The painting started out as one crude sketch,
lines and proportions silly. All over the scenery,
smudge of trees and houses. There was form
and there was no form. Even the wind thwarted.
Galaxies like fireflies searing into the canvas,
the firmament incandescent. And big words
won’t convince the...
Charito's pace slowed as she neared Barbara's, the renowned restaurant in Intramuros that is next to the centuries-old San Agustin Church. The cobblestone streets shimmered in the late afternoon sun, their rough edges whispering stories from the past. Horse-drawn carriages passed by, their...
Trekking the road to house of aged, those
grown feeble, fatuous to outside world.
I come as servant to bring that which is
longed for to nourish souls that thirst.
Room gets filled with hum of tasks.
one by one, they come in wheels, cane.
Lucky those who ambulate,...
(Short Fiction in the Style of Joaquin Antonio Penalosa’s God’s Diary)
When the Cherubim settled down and the fluttering of wings turned into soft rustlings, the Father said, “So tell us, My Son, tell us, what happened.”
The Father knew everything, of course, from...
Confucius Say
The dreams I can’t recall on waking
Must be shaking their heads if they were
Folk, from not a false universal
Sense of waste that extends to even
The airy nothing that they are – such
As, if the ruthless truth be quoted
From Quixote, we all of...
THE SWEETEST RAMBUTAN she had ever tasted grew on their neighbor’s tree. When it was in season, the tree brimmed with loose hanging clusters of bright red fruit covered with fleshy pliable spines. Birds flocked to feed on them and bees buzzed with...
A Filipino Stillness
Not the light in Amorsolo’s canvas but the smile that kindles the frame.
Not in dreams, where I lose you among crocodiles. Your...
Shoes
Paper cutouts folded to fit
my back pocket. I carry them along
through bus ride and train tracks.
I’ll be gone for a few hours.
My daughters look...