Sunday, January 28, 2024

All About Blue

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

After Beatriz Villacanas

How blue was your birth?
Like the sky or the sea?
Like the blue note from Miles?
Do you dream in blue
as darkness surrounds your dream?

Are your heart and mind blue?
Does your lost desire leave you blue?
How blue is your past
and how blue will your future be?
Of course, your nickname is Blue.
And does your bluebird sing?
And do you sing along?


After Fernando Pessoa

Joan, it is!
It is my name.
It is not a pseudonym
like Alvaro de Campos,
Alberto Caeiro, or
Ricardo Reis.
I’m not so clever.
I have read Fernando
Pessoa and I’m no
Fernando Pessoa.
I have heard my name
butchered since
grade school.
I laughed at teachers
who didn’t think
I was so funny.
When they pronounced
my name, some tried
their best to come close.
But there were some
who asked me
seriously, how did
I pronounce my full
name in English?


Today it begins,
the welcoming sun,
generous with warmth,
it burst its light,
it threw it far and wide,
the door of its heart.

Not evil at all,
but stare, and blind
you will be. And
still, it is generous
and welcoming.
Scorching, searing,
the sun brings
warm air.

Its blade cuts.
You feel it in shadows.
In the open sky
it shines again and
again. Feel its needle
in your flesh as it
towers over mountains.


singing, darting
back and forth
in the schoolyard

pigeons and
white doves
toss their bombs
with severe
and precision.


Hey, little bird on the top of the roof,
what is the song you sing?
Is it about the sky so blue?
It sounds so gentle and pure?
You fly to the eucalyptus tree
and move on to the pines
as the golden sun warms your
wings. Is it a song of childhood
before my hair turned gray?
You’re so small with a song so big.
Hey little bird on the edge of the roof,
sing me a song I never heard.
I stand by the door listening
to your beautiful song.
It is more satisfying than chocolate.
You make my house a happy place.
I stand by the door listening.
I get all misty with tears of joy.


Make sure
you water
your flowers
with love
and care.

Too much
or too little
will not let
them grow
as well.

Make sure
you sing to
them and let
them feel
your love.

Treat them
with care. Don’t
mistreat them.
They grow
for you.


Today’s LittleNip:

—Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

Two more weeks
for the winter sky.
I wonder if I will
be blue still or if
my blues will be all
gone. In the past
I felt much better.
This blue soul
can testify to that.


—Medusa, with thanks to Luis Berriozábal for his fine poetry and visuals today!
 “… so small with a song so big…”

A reminder that the
Wakamatsu workshop which was
postponed last week due to the weather
will be held at Wakamatsu Farm
in Placerville today, 12-2pm.
For into about this and other
upcoming poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
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and keep an eye on this link and on
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 during the week.

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