Monday, September 3, 2012

Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal- Two Poems


From dust he
became man
to find a
new dawn, a
rebirth, that
would launch him
like ash to

the strange sky.
He would sleep
in the morning
and burn.


I often wonder
how it would feel
to live in mute city,
where every word
falls on deaf ears
and lip reading is
a way of art.
They only voice
in mute city is
the wind and its
sound is foreign
to the human ear.
Only flowers and
birds understand it.
In mute city one
could get lost in
their own thoughts.
One could pretend
to understand
what the wind says.

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