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The Lake Has Craters

As Zac walked towards the archives building, he noticed a bent betel tree growing dangerously close beside an old Ficus. Both old and young...

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The King who Had Nothing

“What makes a man a king?” A young pauper asked as he sat on his father’s lap. They sat meekly on the side of...

An Affair to Remember

Monsignor Sullivan was seated at his glass-topped desk, the letter from Vikings Cruise on a linen stationery before him. Should he take up the...

The Pruning and Other Poems

The Pruning Deadhead the ground where petals lay, not the blossomed branch, rivered & riveted this garden, this square of pear & pine. Unlock the pruning knife, cut the roses back to thorn, back to distel, to angled light. Be frugal, light-handed, bent shrubs are rain-heavy, grit-weary, saddled with the days of May’s cloud weeping. This June cuts back to essential bone, the boughs watered & wounded. Fold your knees before the muted ground, listen to the...

The Nature of the Beast

THE MOTORIZED BOAT DELIVERED AN ear-splitting growl, then a moan, and we were aground — the steer man, his co-pilot, and I — in the shallow water.  I grumbled loud when I realized that we would have to wade the rest of the...

My Magnificat

In the Marian month of October Magnificent madness My savage spirit you stunned Bones leap out to dance Something inside You touched and exploded Unleashing the torrent of one hundred springs That rush to embrace The vineyards lost in my memory     O blessed be Walls you have broken down Oppressors you pinned to...

Cassandra’s Tale

Leafing through the brittle pages and reading the short story again and again, Cassandra seeks the rhyme and rhythm she thinks necessary for it to flow water-like into the mind’s nooks and crannies, and thereby gather sufficient momentum to push itself forward, whether...

SHARK WALL KEY

(Or Triste at the Santa Barbara Sea Center) Maybe it was the quiet desperation of the     sea horse, holding on to a spine of sea grass  inside a cobalt blue aquarium that brought it on. Or perhaps the distressed Stingray flicking  a missing tail, as the frantic hands...

The Long Road to Capiz

The dawn had barely broken, the rooster was still asleep, and stillness enveloped the sleepy village of Casanayan. There was no moonbeam for now since it was a new moon, so the room, carrying the scent of aged wood and memories, was wrapped...

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