February 26, 2015

Two Poems by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozabal

With your kiss lingering on my lips
I died without regrets of this life.
Blanketed in this bed, I am glad
I didn’t have to see my shriveled hands.
I died kissing you in my last thought.
After all the loves I sent away
I thought about the blue sea where
we walked, where I died when you left. 

Talk With The Trees 

I made small talk with the trees.
The apple tree would not speak to me. 

It did not trust humans.  It felt  
the world was better off before us. 

I left it alone.
I could not lay under its shade.  I felt  
the world was big enough for all of us. 

Some trees liked to laugh
and some trees were serious and wise. 

The trees would question human thought.
Their questions had validity.
The trees could see through our lies.
The trees knew they were at our mercy.
We had cut them down one after another.
We were transparent like light. 

They saw us as imitations of those that came 

before us.  To them we were all the same.

Luis lives in Southern California and works in the mental health field in Los Angeles, CA.  Pygmy Forest Press, published his first poetry book, Raw Materials.  His poetry books and chapbooks have been published by Kendra Steiner Editions, Alternating Current Press, Democracy Now, Deadbeat Press, and New Polish Beat.

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