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Arranging Furniture at Midnight

I move chairs at midnight, Adjusting my wife’s preference Which one is facing which. The cats are doing football Banging on tables and walls. All six of them, Siamese versus...

Blink Twice to Mean Yes

It’s not language nor the attempt at a joke: it’s lack of understanding that dooms the animal crossing the road. Still, the same oblivion awaits it inside the...

Three New Poems

The Demanding Gospel For Sunil Stephens “Luke’s Gospel is a gospel of mercy; it emphasizes Jesus’ identification with the poor and the lowly, and His willingness...

Shutter

A fast-clicking cameraCaptures the momentWhen a loaded balloon breaks,The water inside itReasonably in the shapeOf a glass Earth, as wellBefore it quickly fallsApart, leaking...

Seven out of ten farmers have no land

Seven out of ten lands have no song Seven out of ten songs have no scent Seven out of ten scents have no tears Seven out of ten tears have no words Seven out of ten words have no thunder Seven out of ten thunders have no wound Seven...

George Tapan’s Baler

This is us. Hold steady.No shakes please. We need clarity.No blur, but a clear picture of the windAnd clouds, our lives amongThe pebbles, our eyes intent on yourFocus as we face the sea.Surely, you’re an expertOf aperture and adventure,And our lives frozen, our...

BOL-ANON PRODIGAL (Panglao Island, 2022)

either you take the drinkor the drink takes you: choice of tuba, san miguel beer,ginebra or vino kulafu—naunsa ba ka? Naglisud-lisud na ka sa pag-Binisaya! Only the sea embraces—bluest expansedrowning all tongues, all thought:liquor brewed from a brown god’sblood, seasoned with the salt of memory. Bisag unsa...

Two Poems for 2023

2023 Never too sure if thisis still the right way.The world maintains its tilta couple degrees off its axisand the roads shudderat our destinations.From where I standI see rain shooting from the groundlike glass weeds, volatile and feverish.Rainbows bursting out of trees.And the fires,...

Montage (of a Once Activist)

Meet me on Moraytabefore we march to our beloved stronghold,the Peace Arch in Mendiola,where the blood of our martyrscleansed its cornerstone.Swear that we will outnumberthe uniformed men in line.Meet me there, but watch your backlest a stranger followswith sinister eyes. “Don’t forget to pass...

Santan

In the middle of the park,I am a pink and smooth baby – my mother manages to put santanin my fists, the grass makes me rash like hell and I scratch it out --nails like needles, my skin turns the same shade as the flowersI’m molding...

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