Meaty Words By Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

I struggle in my search for meaty words.

I know no confabulatory myths.

The words slip like rain through my mind.

I am groping in darkness where my heart

is permanently living in the night.

I cannot conjure magic or clever tricks of

the craft. I turned over tables and throw

chairs searching for answers. Day turns

to twilight and I have nothing of substance.

I offer flowers to the drunken muse.

I go back to the beginning and start 

from scratch. This is where it will end.

Born in Mexico, Luis lives in California and works in the mental health field in Los Ángeles. His poems have appeared in Ariel Chart, Fearless, Mad Swirl, The Rye Whiskey Review, and Unlikely Stories.