Wednesday, September 11, 2019

Apologies to W.C. by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

I could be drunk,
resting my bones
in the red wheelbarrow 
glazed and dazed
by the white chickens 
besides the fence,
but alas there is no
fence or white chickens,
and there is definitely 
no red wheelbarrow.





Luis was born in Mexico, lives in California, and works in the mental health 
field in Los Angeles, CA. His poems have appeared in Ariel Chart, Beatnik Cowboy,
Dope Fiend Daily, Unlikely Stories, and Zygote In My Coffee.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Wasted Your Life, Now What? By Chad Parenteau

You can’t take anymore. This taffy pull of a  cocktease, a cyclical  jerk that can never end happily. So you’re a  hitchhiker now, realizing...