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Poetry

Coming home

walking along a familiar road while seeing a new and different world your home calls you a stranger homesick to what he knows and holds while seeing a new and different world the fragments of history and memories, homesick to what he knows and holds look for a shelter; a...

Rinsing rice

I fed two takal of rice Into the newly washed pot. Scooped water for rinsing. Fumbled, stirred the seeds Of Tatay’s perspiration. Spilled the milky water. Poured out slowly until it subsided.   I saw Nanay outside Retrieving the laundered clothes. I remembered what she uttered a while ago: “Noy, when will we be...

The fire tree

You were born in grace facing the Fire tree entangled with the wind and the sun And pregnant with imaginations of the crossing Lights focused on the direction of the meadow Tarnishing your immaculate shadow with the Image of burning tree gobbled by the horizon And your sophisticated thoughts...

Loonpoem

Under the broken streetlamp a Loonpoem struggles to be born In the ruins. Her voice cried As the earth cracked open And Our Lady of Light came Tumbling down. The selfsame church the poet Clovis had been proud of, A decade before as we drank In Tagbilaran, in the porch Of his sister’s apartment...

I Spoken Like Diss

Diss poym… my powem is entitled “Umaga at Gabi”. Pero na-realize ko na kung “entitled” nga ba itong tula sa “Umaga at Gabi” Na naghahanap ng paikot-ikot na cycle also known as Repetition-repetition-repetition Nang may retention Everytime na mine-mention ang “Umaga at Gabi”. At mare-realize ko bigla na walangsense...

Bitiw

Malalim ang ‘yong mga mata’t Hapis na ang mukha. Hindi ko na mabilang ang iyong mga gatlâ. Dati-rati’y parang tigre ka kung tumingin, Matikas ang tindig, At buong katawan ay may may masel. Nanghihina na ang ‘yong mga tuhod; Sa paglakad ay iipod-ipod. Babahagya ka nang makakain; Kailangan pang lagi kitang pilitin. Madali...

Random Pickings

Grandma

Her hands quiver from sustained pressing of the beads. When her voice starts to rise, the light of the kerosene lamp amplifies from an entirely lambent glow, illuminating the...

THE CALLING OF ST. MATTHEW

In Harmony with Caravaggio Five men sit around a tablewhile two stand at the extreme right.How strange, those seated havefoppish hats, embroidered and brocadedshirts, tight...

I am Woman

I am woman.My menses borne beforesanitary napkins and tampons. I am woman.A breast cancer survivorclose to eighteen years now. I am woman.Daughter of a feisty Waraywho...

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...