Friday, July 3, 2015

Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal- Two Poems

The sun bursts.
The emerald trees melt.
The smoke rises
up to the azure skies.
Spring heats up
as summer fires await
to huff and puff
across the drylands.
A fountain
spirit dreams of growing
like a giant shadow
to put out the flames.
I’m the 99 percent
of the one percent
who no one reads
and no one knows.
I write into the void,
into the great abyss,
and I do not
expect riches.
People used to find it
interesting I wrote
poetry.  They
were curious.
Nowadays they just
make small talk, such as
“Do you still write?”
I could answer
yes or no and they
would not really care.
They would say, “That’s
nice" either way.

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