Tuesday, February 1, 2022

Selected Works, Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

The Son of Man

After Rene Magritte

Face apple man
stood still for hours.
His self-portrait
was so surreal.

His right hand was
lighter than his left.
I wonder if
he was lefty.

He wore a blue
coat. He only
buttoned two of
the three buttons.

His left eye and
left eyebrow were
more visible
than the right eye

and right eyebrow.
I wondered if
the green apple
and five green leaves

distorted his
vision. He wore
a white shirt and
a red tie. I

wondered if he
picked out his own
tie.  Behind him
was the blue sea

and a blue sky
with clouds that were
about to turn
dark. He wore a
black hat. He stood
in front of a
small wall.  He stood
rigid-like. I

wonder what kept
the green apple
suspended in
front of his face.

If he faced a
firing squad, I
would not be at
all surprised. He

seemed to be the
kind of man that
was a little

Face apple man
called himself
the son of man.
I wonder if

his father had
a green apple
or a red one
in front of his

face. I wonder
if he moved to
the left or to
the right, his face

would be seen and
the green apple
would remain where
his face used to

be. I wondered
if he took a
bite of it, would
the apple bleed.


A marble replaced his heart,
a black shiny marble small
as an eye. His feelings were
lacking; his speeches rolled
around not making sense.
His words rolled around in a
maze and could not find their 
way out. Marbles replaced
his eyes, black shiny marbles
like coal. He could look at
the sun and not go blind. He
would look at things and not
see the beauty or the horror
in front of his marble eyes.
He could not feel love or 
empathy in his marble heart.

In The Blur

After Gerhard Richter

In the blur
of color
of style and
peace make up.

Peace takes shape
in splashes
of yellow
and red/gray

and blue. Art
needs to stand
out as the
saving grace

of mankind.
Priests had their
chance. Freud and
Jung had theirs.

In the blur
of brushstrokes,
there is life.

The Greedy People

I saw the greedy people
on TV. They had expensive
taste and drank babies’
blood. I saw them eat raw
meat without a fork, with
bloodstained hands and
manicured fingernails.
They were like sharks. They
never slept. They wiped
their behinds with goose
feathers and hundred-dollar
bills. They ate the marrow
of death itself and kept
company with the devil
and his accountant.

Close My Eyes

Every time I close my eyes
something dies.

I blink it gone,
an entire empire.

This is my power.
There is no doubt
in my heart.

Listen to me.
Keep my eyes open.
I do not want to destroy you.

I can clear out a mountain.
I can see it gone
in my mind when I close my eyes.

I am not joking as
I peer into the sun.

I can make it disappear.
I can make you disappear.
I can promise you that.

Before I Died of Thirst

The sea sailed right by me.
The ship sailed with the sea.

The sinful knocked at heaven’s gate.
The faithful were sent to hell by mistake.

The tall tree was felled for matchsticks.
The arsonists keep rubbing wet sticks.

I took a sip of water before I died of thirst.
The devil’s backbone was in need of a nurse.

Born in Mexico, Luis lives in California and works in the mental health field in Los Angeles, CA. He is the author of Before and Well After Midnight (Deadbeat Press), Make the Light Mine (Kendra Steiner Editions), The Book of Absurd Dreams (New Polish Beat), Peering into the Sun (Poet’s Democracy), Songs for Oblivion (Propaganda Press), Raw Materials (Pygmy Forest Press), and Everything is Permitted (Ten Pages Press). His latest poetry book, Make the Water Laugh, was published by Rogue Wolf Press. His poetry and art have appeared in Art: Mag, Blue Collar Review, Medusa's Kitchen, Nerve Cowboy, Unlikely Stories, and Venus in Scorpio Ezine.

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