"Small World" and "Sin Soñar / Without Dreaming"

by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

Small World

In my hand
a fistful of dirt,
a small world
with tiny people,
 
I spotted
my minuscule twin,
and I blew
the dirt off, my twin
 
included,
the small world gone,
the people,
too, and I washed
 
my hands clean.
World destroyer
is the phrase
I heard the most.

 

 

Without Dreaming

I slept without dreaming.
I lived without breathing.
 
I drank pure air.
I walked without moving.
 
The starless nights.
The wingless bees.
 
I lied without words.
I stole without a crime.
 
I ached without a wound.
I cried without pain.
 
I ate invisible bread.
I perspired without heat.

Sin Soñar

Dormía sin soñar.
Vivía sin respirar.
 
Bebía puro aire.
Caminaba sin andar.
 
La noche sin estrellas.
La abeja sin alas.
 
Mentía sin palabras.
Robaba sin delito.
 
Ardía sin herida.
Lloraba sin dolor.
 
Comía pan invisble.
Sudaba sin calor.

 

 

Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal lives in West Covina, California, works in Los Angeles County, and is the author of Raw Materials (Pygmy Forest Press). His poetry, prose, and art has appeared in Black Petals, Blue Collar Review, Mad Swirl, Cowboy, River Dog Press, and Yellow Mama Webzine. His broadsides, chapbooks and poetry books have appeared in Alternating Current Press, Deadbeat Press, Four Feathers Press, Kendra Steiner Editions, New American Imagist, New Polish Beat, Poet's Democracy, Rogue Wolf Press, and Ten Pages Press.  Luis recommends St. Jude Children's Research Hospital.

 

Edited for Unlikely by Jonathan Penton, Editor-in-Chief
Last revised on Monday, March 9, 2020 - 22:37