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