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...
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...
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...
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...
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...
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...
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...
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.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...