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Poetry
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...
Naked
I’ll wear nothingbut my trembling desirethe wild beat of my pulsethe lingering whispers of my past.
I’ll wear nothingbut the ache of my lost love the sweet sigh of my first joy The ecstatic cry of happiness.
I’ll wear nothing but the fire in my eyesnaked in your...
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 details of
her room. Mound of frass
and dead winged
ants on the altar; archaic cross
nailed askew on a bole. Might these,
however...
Inverted Horizons
The sea and the sky
Swap their eternities
The waves with the clouds
And everywhere
Fishes fly birds swim
Farmers cast seines
Fishers sow seeds
Waterways counterflow
Waterfalls go into reverse
All of this unbeknown
To Siri Alexa and Cortana.
