Live Nude Poems

37 After Jose Hernandez Diaz Jose, you have opened my eyes, with the poem about Nick, the quick, Van Exel. Why didn’t I ever think about writing a poem about that team I rooted for since my youth? Why not a poem about Eddie Jones, who was smooth and steady player? His number should have been hanging in the rafters, if not for Kobe Bryant joining the team. I would have loved to wear an Eddie Jones or a Nick Van Exel jersey, but I could not afford either. I watched those games on Channel 9 with Chick and Stu announcing. I could understand why Nick Van Exel was your favorite player. Come to think about it, he was my favorite player too. Drafted 37th, such a steal. He played with a chip on his shoulder for being dissed. He made his share of buzzer beaters to the cheers of the crowd. This poem is for you, Jose, for Nick, the quick, and for smooth Eddie. In this arena we practice our crossover, three-point shots, and behind the back passes. ...

Star Gazing Softly gazing at the stars; If I could name one, it would be a lucky guess. To be versed in astronomy, to know just a little bit more; I only know that stars are small from where I stand. What do you want me to do? I want to decorate my room with them. I would take a point, small as a needlepoint. These are my musings tonight. It is not all I think about in this empty house, in this empty room. Often, I think about you and how I love your laughter. I am on my own tonight. There are no barricades in front of my door. But I digress, I do not take the stars for granted. Just between us, I am going to learn their names, or just one or two once each year. Luis lives in Southern California, works in Los Angeles, and has a new poetry book coming out from Rogue Wolf Press in 2021. The book is entitled Make the Water Laugh. His prior books and chapbooks over the past two decades were published by Deadbeat Press, Kendra Steiner Editions, New Polish Beat, Po...

To Ann’s Typewriter for Anne Menebroker Will you tell me HERE, typewriter, what you miss most about Anne since she’s been away? She’s with you still, you say. Are you SERIOUS? The words remain. Someone still reads them and finds joy. Will you tell me more? My ears have perked up. Let it all out in typewriter speak. I am down. Tell me more. I am right here. Drink in hand, I feel so peaceful like if the ocean was outside my door and the mountains on the other side. Will you go on typewriter? The sky is crying. Rain is falling down. Can I come back again someday? You’re a lovely LECHEROUS MACHINE. Like Ann said, with a slow and greedy excitement , you find a way to end one’s days. Luis has lived in California for 45 years. He works in the mental health field in Los Angles. His poetry has appeared in Ariel Chart, Blue Collar Review, Kendra Steiner Editions, Mad Swirl, The Rye Whi...

Brief Conversations With Gary In Downtown, Los Angeles  Thanks for the pancakes. You should smile more. You are my heart, Luis, you are my soul. What is your name man because I don’t want to call you Fraser? You remind me of Fraser. Hey Luis, what do you know about Jennifer Aniston? I saw her driving in a red car. My stomach is killing me. I should not have eaten that Chinese food out of the trash. It is cold, Luis, aren’t you cold? There is this guy at the tent that tried to stab me last week. Could you get me something to eat? It’s my birthday Luis. I have a 25-year-old daughter. Voices told me that I should jump off this bridge. Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal , lives in Southern California and works in the mental health field in Los Angeles. His first book of poems, Raw Materials, was published by Pygmy Forest Press. His other poetry books, broadsides, and chapbooks, have been published by...