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Poetry

Still Life with Twelve Sunflowers, after Scrolling

Van Gogh’s sunflowers  — all twelve of them  — so lively, lush, standing, bending; they do not submit to ikebana’s poise and posture — golden — no — bronze — beautiful yet strange. I am certain this is the color of grief thick as impasto, of desire leaping like a gazelle, beyond the canvas’s frame — wedged in...

GUERILLA DOWNPOUR

There is no warning— the sky, a sudden insurgent, opens with                     guerrilla downpour. Torrential rain, an unrelenting witness, assaults the fragile spines of trees and the quiet bones of houses. Water spills, not as mercy, but as a force that shatters the brittle calm we cling to. In the heart's small orchard, the fruit...

Salt Prayer

"There must be something strangely sacred about salt.It is in our tears and in the sea."from SAND AND FOAM (1926) by Khalil Gibran Matthew 5:13— "You are the salt of the earth. But ifthe salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made saltyagain?...

On Sundays…and Belonging

On Sundays and belonging,And when I used to mess around with Lolo’s typewriter:Clicking and clacking the worn-out buttons, it is legacySounding against my stubby child fingers. You would often tell me stories about Mindoro:Of your father and the town hall—how he would walk a...

Tropical Sundews

this is the timewhen the greens are greener than beforeas above so belowthe midges regret worshippingthe false god of all false beingsthe dewdrops and dropletsof this rainforest in early mornings they longed what it felt to prayand kneel before a deityears forgiven they could...

In One of My Lives, I Became A Drone

so I asked the queen ant: “beforeI mate with your young queen, may Iat least have the indulgence ofmating with all of the femaleants here, since I’m the last maletoday and they probably need me?” And the queen ant said, “it is use-less, you...

Random Pickings

Dalawang dosenang diyona ng pag-ibig

  Busilak Perlas sa karagatan Ng iyong kalooban Na aking natagpuan.   Pagiging Payak Palamuti mong taglay Na aking hinangaan At sukdulang minahal.   Aking Habambuhay Dahil ika’y pinili, Ako’y mananatili Sa kandi mo’t kandili.   Antikwaryo   Kahit hindi na...

Tears for Sparta

Sparta, thank youfor being my faithful friendI am not your masterYou are my teacherFor you taught me to smilewhen inexplicable sorrows came byYou are...

Jazz

You don’t listen to jazz because It is neither pedestrian nor broccoli. “Who’s Mahatma Gandhi?” asks a man Who had somehow gone through twenty Years without learning a...

On Womanhood

Being a woman is thrust upon you. You walk under stars and suddenly casually, make a fist in your pocket and hold your key—like a weapon. It is keen awareness of fabric...