Thursday, December 28, 2023

Let Me Decide in the Future

 —Poetry and Visuals by
Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal,
West Covina, CA 


I cannot decide.
There are too many choices.
Let me decide in the future.

I cannot decide.
For years I have lived.
So much time has passed.
I will only have one death.
When the time comes to decide
I will ask for another day.

There are so many ways to go.
The decision will not be easy.
Let me decide in the future.

I cannot decide.
Because I have not done
this or that, I need more time.
Let it ruminate in my mind.
That’s all I ask.
Let me savor my youth a while longer.

How long do I have?
I will only have one death.
Let me decide in the future.
I need to make amends.
I will ask for one more day and another.
I will only have one death.


I go to sleep
of tomorrow
and all the work
at my desk. I

curse tomorrow
but I
will not call out
sick. I reserve
those days
for holidays,

where I can stretch
a day
off into two
or maybe three
days where
I sleep without

a thought of what’s
at my desk. I
just hope I don’t
have a
dream about work.


I don’t know
if I can blow
the candles out.
I just don’t know.

But I’ll try
my strongest sigh.
It might just work
or maybe not.

The years come
cursed and often.
These days I block
the door with bricks

and things to
keep the years out.
I roll my eyes
or gaze inward.
I don’t know why.


Borders disappear
into low skies.
Space becomes aloof
with no point of view.
The forest is inhabited
by white cows that
sleep under a bridge
most of the day.
On the other side of
the bridge an old troll
helps itself to one cow.
It likes red meat.
It will talk with its mouthful
about it. Before day
turns to night, there
is a moment when the
sun turns black and
there is nothing that
explains it. At the end of
the forest, life withdraws,
and nothing matters.

After Vincenzo Cardarelli

Here it makes its nest.
Here it seeks out peace.
I am like that bird with
thoughts always in flight.

I make a life with
water, food, and work. I
seek the quietness
of that bird at sea.

To live in the air—
that would be the life.


After Oscar Cerruto

Lift me up
with your words
of kindness.

Caress me
like a new-
born baby.

Dress me up
with warmth and
brand new duds.

Kiss me all
over with
your sweet words.

Please do not
devour me
with those words.

I am leaving
my senses.
My senses leave
my sick mind.
How strange do I
turn sometimes.
My mind goes numb
with screws loose.
I want to move
away to
a place where my
mind is free.
There must be a
place for me.
I am leaving
my senses
before my mind
leaves me.


Today’s LittleNip:

Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.

― Søren Kierkegaard


—Medusa, thanking Luis Berriozábal for his fine art and poetry this morning!
—Sketch by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal


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