Thursday, February 28, 2008

Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

THE LITTLE SAINT GERARD


The little saint Gerard

Couldn’t hurt a mouse.

Brother Jack will testify.

The little saint Gerard

In the Lord’s house

Watches over all God’s creatures

Large and small.

Illness got the better of him

On earth, on earth, but not in Heaven.

The little saint Gerard

Feels no pain at all.

The Lord won’t allow it.

The little saint Gerard

suffers no more.

Brother Jack wrote it down

In his Visions of Gerard.





AND I DON’T KNOW WHO I AM


Far away with thoughts of nothingness.

On a cloudlike surface is where my mind

Threads on and I don’t know who I am.

Traveling to distant locales,

A wandering spirit, lost in the world,

And I don’t know who I am.

My face is unrecognizable to me.

Could you shake up my mind?

I don’t know who I am.

I don’t know who I am.

Miles from where I stand is the real me.

A cloud surfaces in my mind’s haste

And I don’t know who I am.

These hands attached to my person

Feel like the hands of a stranger.

My face is unrecognizable to me.

Could you shake up my mind?

I don’t know who I am.

I don’t know who I am.





I WAS ANGRY WHEN I WROTE THIS



A slave is one

Who can’t find time to read,

Always doing

Favors for everybody.

3 comments:

Diogenes said...

The art of being a slave is to rule one's master.


The slave is freer than the master as the former can get by quite fine without the latter.

Dogface said...

to alexander--

quite stealing my lines ye twat and stand out of my sun

alexander said...

to dogface diogenes--

if i were not alexander, i would be diogenes