Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

Rely on the Moon

by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

I rely on the moon

to calm my teary eyes.

From where I stand, I see

the white moon turning blue.

The moon is my present,

my gift from the heavens.

In my deepest despair

I could not live without

its presence. The moon works

on my eyes. It does not

hurt them like the sun does.

I prefer evening. Day

and its sun wears on me.

The moon leaves me drowsy.

I can always count on

it as well as the stars.

Trembling Shadows

by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

The trembling shadows

search for the root cause

of such trembling; left naked

with cold hard facts, they

go on trembling at all hours.

The lives of shadows are like

cigarette ash, stinking if

left unemptied. The trembling

shadows, transparent as

silence, feel twilight’s claws,

on a moonless and starless

night. The shadows retreat,

trembling, as the dark sky falls.

Crawling at Night

by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

Crawling at night,

crawling out of my hole.

The stars summoned me

to feel the fresh air.

I climbed to the sky,

left my footprints on the

ground along with my howl.

I searched with my mind

and floated so high.

I searched for joy

in my ragged clothes

and in newfound hope.

I needed this life

to go through all these

pathways, even if I

had to walk with my hands,

crawling, bloody, with

pain, with all my strength.

Night was comforting.

The stars above showered

with me with a rain of light.

This old man felt so young.

In Your Garden

by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

To be a flower

in your garden,

to be your shady

tree, either of

those two things

I would like to be

for you. You could

wet my petals with

water or with the rain

that comes less

frequently. Let the

wind shake me and

in autumn gather my

fallen leaves.

The Past Is Over

by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

The past is

over and

then you die.

You think back

on the dream

that was life.

No longer

here. The world

goes on and

on. Life is

like this. I

wonder if

all those who

die are not

really dead.

Will they talk

to us as

spirits? Will

they float out

to sea as

morning fog?

Looking at the Sea

by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

Without you

the sea is just water to me.

I am out

of sorts. No one can soothe me.

It is just

water. Without you, I am not

on my best of moods.

Where can I

go? The waves in

the sea call to me.

I close my eyes.

I put my head down.

The sea is looking at me.

What am I going to do?

I open one eye.

Looking at the sea,

it smiles at me as I drown,

feeling anonymous.

Twilight Zone Kind of Days

by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

It is one of those Twilight Zone

kind of days with the sun swallowed

up by grey, fluffy clouds. 2023

feels like 1980, with my hair long,

down below my shoulders, and

Van Halen blasting from the radio,

Everybody Wants Some. A green

Dodge Dart, with its windows

down all the way, provides the

sound. The brunette behind

the wheel smiles at me and blows

a kiss at me as she drives off

in a haste. KICKER, reads the plates

in black letters. I am transported

to those days, where I was literally

half-the-man I am now in weight

at least. My 80s do in my mind,

looks like I have hair to spare.

I brush a chunk out of my eyes

and drive down the road where

KICKER is only a distant memory

and the music switches back to

2023. Black Summer pumps out

of my radio, with Anthony, Flea,

John, and Chad making this

Twilight Zone the place to be.

Bird of Night

by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

Bird of night,

how does tomorrow look?

What world will

the wind guide us through?

Your shadow

and your song at this late hour

keep me up,

wondering if I should stay home.

Will it rain

hard enough to flood

the streets and

make the road impenetrable?

Should I call

out sick and plan my day

around sleep

and the gentle raindrops?

Bird of night,

you know I am unrealistic.

For days the

heat is consuming our world.

Tomorrow

will be more of the same

but your song

is the one thing keeping me sane.

Last Night

by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

It was dawn

and last night

I fell for

you. Trees swayed.

Red clouds moved

in concert.

Raw fruit fell

in someone’s

yard. Last night

I was out,

in love, but

extinguished.

The fire in

my heart no

longer burned.

Dawn came and

took it all

away. I

fell like the

raw fruit

from someone’s

yard and wept.

In the Serene River

by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

As I float

in the serene river

quiet as I will ever be,

the water

cleanses my body,

but not the occasional bruise.

My heart stopped

beating hours ago.

The last swim,

no more words will be

spoken from these lips.

A bird sings

in the distance.

It is a seagull

that calls my name.

The river

has no song for me

on the first week of spring.

It is just

a mirror for the sun

and clouds.

In time my

body will be recovered.

Who Does Not Love You?

by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

Who does not love you?

Wind that kisses and cools.

Who does not love you?

Rock that skips on the waves.

Who does not love you?

Sky of sun, moon, and stars.

Who does not love you?

River of perpetual dreams?

Rain and dust of tomorrow

and yesterday, be gentle.

Who does not love you?

What is there to be said?

Who does not love you?

Children that laugh and play.

Who does not love you?

Bird of bloodied feathers?

I shake my head in search

of dreams unfulfilled, lost.

Who does not love you?

Depart if you must? I

will linger in shadows.

Who does not love you?

Death, darkness, why do you

bring oblivion and plant

green grass over my grave?