Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal- Two Poems

SMOKE RISES

 

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.

 

 

 

WRITE INTO THE VOID

 

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.