BAREFOOT

by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

Barefoot, her swollen feet
are weary of the road.
She ditches the road and walking
and sits on the bus bench.

When people see her talk
to the advertisement on
the bus bench they become weary
of her. The woman pays no

attention to the people
or to the police on the scene.
She could barely walk to the
squad car with her swollen feet.

THE PRESIDENT

by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

The President
killed my family
a few years back:
He killed billions
of people, but he
did not kill me.

I was kept alive
to be President.
I’m waiting for a
new heart and new
brain before I can
lead this nation.

I will be the first
Latin President.
The first thing I’ll
do is raise the wages
of the farm workers
and tax the rich.

MEDICATION IS FORNICATION

by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

Medication is fornication.
You know it is, doctor.
You just want to fuck me up.

The modification of my life
is in your hands, doctor.
You just want to change my ways.

There is nothing at all wrong
with my mind. Perhaps you
are the problem, not me.

I need to serve dinner for the
celebrities, doctor.
They are coming over.

How can I fix them dinner when
I am in here, doctor?
You just want to poison me.

Since I was four years old I have
been poisoned in my head.
You are just like my mother.

She never let me have any fun.
I always had rules I
had to follow, just like now.


*you can order t Luis' new chapbook, THE BOOK OF ABSURD DREAMS from New Polish Beat.

THE IDIOT

by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

You could spot an
idiot with
ease. Sometimes you
only have to
look at yourself.
Sometimes it is
the guy sitting
across from you,
the woman who
wants to cut you
off in traffic.
Sometimes it is
the voice you hear
on the phone, the
fool sending you
spam e-mails, the
restaurant cook
who ruins your
day and stomach.
You could spot an
idiot so
easily. You
just turn on a
television,
the radio,
or hear your boss.
The idiot’s
in most of us.
The idiot
is everywhere.

WATCHING TV

by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

While the world
went to shit
we watched TV.

The dumber
we became
the more we watched.

We laughed our
asses off
watching TV.

We escaped
to a world
of fake heroes.

We watched
in awe with
our eyes open
and our minds closed.

IN THE END

by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

In the end
our hearts wilt
like ordinary
flowers.

Not all of
us find what
our hearts truly
desire.

And it is
not fair and
it is no one’s
fault. It just is.

INVINCIBLE

by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

I tried to be invincible.
I read books.
I searched every sentence.
It did not help.
I tried to find the truth.
I should have sought the lie.
I should have sought out
hope, but I found despair.
I did not know
the difficulty I would face.
I attempted to find phrases,
words, which I could swear
by. Each time a new thought
put its fist through the old
thought, and perhaps
it was a good thing.
Yesterday was yesterday.
The future will come.
In the end no one is invincible,
not even your enemies.

SICKLY AND DECOMPOSED

by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

The dead don’t take good care
of themselves.
On earth
they appear lost.
They are too frail
to turn doorknobs.
In ghost form
wind blows them away
like smoke.

The dead don’t feel embarrassed
when they appear
sickly
and decomposed.
When they go to bed,
they dream
of being alive.
But their dreams
never come true.

LIVING IN DARKNESS

by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

I cannot grasp life sometimes.
There is a shadow that follows me.
It blinds my view when I need
to see. The shadow is not mine.
I try to stand upright in
my own quiet way. However,
the shadow knocks me down without
making contact. I feel a deep
emptiness in my soul. I live in
utter obscurity. Each ounce of
my being is living in darkness.

STUPID THINGS

by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

I will not answer
your questions.
If you want to know
my name, it’s
John Doe, fool.

I know I do some
stupid things
sometimes, but that is
my business.
I feel good.

I want to go home soon.
My mother
needs to pick me up,
she has to,
I’m her son.

I do not need to
take meds. I’m
all right. You could give
that shit to
someone else.

You cannot make me
stay in here.
My rights are being
trampled on.
I’ll sue you.

I will own this place.
The first thing
I’m going to do
is to fire
the doctor.

WAITING FOR MY PLANE

by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

I am waiting for my plane
to pick me up and take me
out of here. If anyone
should be in a psych unit,
it is my husband, not me.
I am tired of him trying
to control me. He should mind
his own business. The first thing
I am going to do when
I go home is take all my
things and file for divorce. I
will get on a plane and go
to Florida or Egypt.
I will go anywhere my
husband cannot find me. I
had my share of breakdowns when
I lived with him. I need to
be alone for a change. I
want to end my marriage.

WHEN SHE DRINKS

by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

When she drinks
we suffer.
She is small.
Do not be
fooled by that.
She goes off.
She threatens
us with knives,
throws coffee
cups, and blunt
objects. She
thinks she is
all right. But
she is a
time bomb, a
loaded gun,
ready to
go off. She
would not drink
so much if
she did not
have such bad
friends. They come
around and
influence
her to go
with them and
drink. She is
a pretty
girl. She is
much better
when she takes
her pills. When
she stops them
the voices
come back and
make her do
crazy things.
When she drinks
she cannot
be controlled.

THORNS AND ROSES

by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

In the broken concrete
thorns grew out.
The rose petals remained
deep in the earth.

An angel heart bled out
in the sky
above the thorns growing
from the earth. A

cloud emptied its tears and
let out a sigh
that shook the earth.

A wave of roses burst
out and the thorns
fell into the earth.

INFILTRATION

by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

I used to worry
about Khrushchev,
Russian spies, and
the infiltration of
communists into
the American way
of life. I warned
the FBI through
correspondence
and occasional
telephone calls.
I was a newlywed
then and my husband
was still my husband.
These days I am not
so sure. My husband’s
face might appear
the same, but his voice
gives him away. He
is an imposter. I want
the FBI to investigate
the man who doubles
as my husband. Now
I worry about
terrorists, who don’t
believe in our God.
They seek vengeance
upon our system of
laws and our love
of freedom. Their
infiltration is nearly
complete. My husband
is a Taliban operative.
I found his Turban
in the hamper. I found
a homemade bomb
in his pants, which I
diffused in the rinse
cycle of my washing
machine. The FBI needs
to do something before
it’s too late. My real
husband has vanished.


*Luis at MySpace:
www.myspace.com/cuatemochi

SEX THROUGH MY EYEBALL

by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

I am under a spell.
There is a witch
who’s having sex
through my eyeball.

I want to kill the witch.
She lives over
on Crenshaw in
a real shit hole.

I need to talk to the
President or
with someone who’s
in government.

She is wishing me to
hell. The devil
has cast this spell
on me because

I was watching porn on
the internet.
I saw the witch
in a threesome

with the President and
Ozzie’s Harriet.
I want to tear
my eyeball out.

SPIRITUAL BRIDE

by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

All my problems
started when Selena died.
She was like my wife.
Now she is my spiritual bride.

I never met her.
But I always had this mental
connection with her.
When I would watch her on TV

I knew she was
singing just for me. I would
watch her eyes and she
would be watching me.

On the radio
we had a more intense
relationship. I
knew she was reading my mind.

I would read her mind
too and I knew we were like
Woman and man, like
husband and wife, you know.

Since she has been dead
I hear her voice, no longer singing.
She asks for my help.
But I'm helpless and hopeless.

If only the cops
left me alone, I would not be
in this situation.
I never tried to hurt anyone.

They claim I renounced
my real wife, who is not Selena.
But I have no wife,
other than my spiritual bride.

DEAD PETS

by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

I have been
on the wrong
medicine
for two months.
All winter
long I was
suffering
intensely
from voices
of dead pets
and visions
of their deaths.
My first dog
buried out
back under
the pepper
tree whispered
into my
ears. I saw
it being
crushed under
the wheels of
a neighbor.
Its limp and
bloody head
spoke to me,
Please save me.
The white cat
who slept on
our porch for
years, died of
old age. I
hear it at
night purring
and talking
with the voice
of a girl
whispering,
Please join me.
Die with me.