Dead Bird of Chinatown
I remember the dead
bird in the streets of
Chinatown on College
and Broadway many
years ago. I wonder
where his spirit sings
today. Who took his
place? Who carries
his dead voice through
these streets that are
ever changing with lofts,
breweries, and young
people moving in at
rents well over two
thousand dollars per
month? I cannot recall
much of how things
were twenty years ago,
but I remember that
dead bird. I imagine he
sang a song too sweet
for these city streets.
The Deep Song
The deep song lies inside
someone or some bird
whose voice is strange
to strangers who do not
understand, who believe
these are just ramblings.
They cannot see the voice.
They can only hear it.
Without a doubt there
are stars that are obscure
to the human eye, their
light is just a flicker, a
song like a murmur,
that will sing on and on.
Somber and Grey
Bury me deep.
I will not thank you.
Somber and grey,
take me under. I
just need a grave
by a shady tree.
I yearn no more.
Bring roses and
mums. In heavy rain
do not cry for
me. The flowers are
enough. I like
that. How can I thank
you if I died?
About the Author
Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozabal lives in California and works in Los Angeles. His latest poetry book Make the Water Laugh has been published by Rogue Wolf Press. His poems have appeared in Ariel Chart, 1870, Fearless, and Unlikely Stories.
