by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal,
West Covina, CA
West Covina, CA
INTO THE WALL
Into the wall
we go, to get
to the other side.
Let’s go. Come on.
Don’t worry. I
said, Don’t worry. We
will come back home
and talk about
it. If you are
patient, if you can
free your mind, we
won’t remember
when we walk through
the plaster flakes or
the crumbling sound
as life begins.
Into the wall
we go, to get
to the other side.
Let’s go. Come on.
Don’t worry. I
said, Don’t worry. We
will come back home
and talk about
it. If you are
patient, if you can
free your mind, we
won’t remember
when we walk through
the plaster flakes or
the crumbling sound
as life begins.
FOG EVERYWHERE
There was fog everywhere.
There was fog everywhere.
It was like a cloud blanket
covering the street and the
sky. It was like a puff of smoke
going inside my eye. Behind
the fog there was the greatest
show on earth that no one
could see. Dumbo and Mighty
Mouse flew in the sky, their
red capes had sparkling neon
lights. There was Marvin the
Martian and Lee Marvin arm-
wrestling with cigarettes
dangling from their lips. It was
the smoke from their cigarettes
that brought on the fog.
GENT BENT
Triangles are not square.
And circles
go around
and around.
Three points of
a square less
one point is
a circle.
Some get bent
out of shape
when they feel
like square pegs
in round holes.
Triangles are not square.
And circles
go around
and around.
Three points of
a square less
one point is
a circle.
Some get bent
out of shape
when they feel
like square pegs
in round holes.
EVENING OF SILENCE
Another evening of silence,
all the houses are asleep.
I enjoy it this way. Without
sound, and preferably no lights.
I know I need to get a grip on things.
It seems everything
slips away.
Even the lights and
sound dwindle to nothing.
THE TABLE’S BLUES
The table blames me
for not having company
over. The table is empty
of food and drink for
family parties. We have
grown apart, too busy
to spend time together.
Each chair is in the same
place for days. I spend
most of my time in my
room sleeping depression
away. I come out to the
living room to eat alone
and watch tv now and
then. I think the table is
more alone than me and
perhaps more depressed.
The table blames me
for not having company
over. The table is empty
of food and drink for
family parties. We have
grown apart, too busy
to spend time together.
Each chair is in the same
place for days. I spend
most of my time in my
room sleeping depression
away. I come out to the
living room to eat alone
and watch tv now and
then. I think the table is
more alone than me and
perhaps more depressed.
SPILT WINE
Ocean
with reflections
of the skies
and its children,
who go by sun
and moon, who
go by clouds
and stars, what
offerings do
you prefer?
Shipwrecked
boats and sailors,
spilt wine?
Such loss have
you inherited,
spilt blood and
oil, barrels full
of alcohol, diamonds
and pearls, precious
gold and spices,
perhaps too much
to cleanse, perhaps
too much spilt
blood and wine?
Let’s take a brief
bow, ocean and sea.
In the deep transparency
below the waves,
extraordinary treasures
are buried and drunken
sailors no longer bitter,
no longer breathing
the cool air, no longer
quarreling over
spilt wine, with clothes
too loose for their bones.
Ocean
with reflections
of the skies
and its children,
who go by sun
and moon, who
go by clouds
and stars, what
offerings do
you prefer?
Shipwrecked
boats and sailors,
spilt wine?
Such loss have
you inherited,
spilt blood and
oil, barrels full
of alcohol, diamonds
and pearls, precious
gold and spices,
perhaps too much
to cleanse, perhaps
too much spilt
blood and wine?
Let’s take a brief
bow, ocean and sea.
In the deep transparency
below the waves,
extraordinary treasures
are buried and drunken
sailors no longer bitter,
no longer breathing
the cool air, no longer
quarreling over
spilt wine, with clothes
too loose for their bones.
IN A DAY
In a day
I want to measure
a bird’s flight.
How many
miles does it fly
in a day?
Over a
body of water
its shadow
reflects. It
is a small shadow.
It’s so small.
In a day
it carries its song
and message.
Its shadow
is so small but its
song is long.
___________________
Today’s LittleNip:
Every bad situation is a blues song waiting to happen.
—Amy Winehouse
__________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Luis Berriozábal for today’s fine poetry and visuals, and to Joe Nolan for the photo below!
—Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan,
Stockton, CA
For future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
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Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
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Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.
Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
