by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
I awoke in a strange country.
The wing of a blackbird blacked out
the sun. The dim country left me
pensive, pale, and melancholy.
A primitive race of cannibals
wanted to consume my sadness.
There was a terrible beauty
in this world. The giant black crows
warred with the giant blackbirds.
This place made me long for my death.