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Dale As I Explain to Him This Weird Thing Called Love

Is love visceral? Is love political?We elect emotions as tyrantsDictating the rest of our historyWhile I hold your hands gentlyWalking down the parliamentOf desire...

Bloodsheds on the Rainbow

Delivered from the lights of heavenand strolling earth with the likeness of Godsuppressed by society’s sanctioned sinsconvulsing norms and gospel’s grounds Mother of many but...

Two Poems for 2023

2023 Never too sure if thisis still the right way.The world maintains its tilta couple degrees off its axisand the roads shudderat our destinations.From where...

Red

Everyone says that Red is the color Of love and passion Which adds meaning to lovers’ days and inflames their hungry nights Yet some of us forget That red is blood Personifying...

Bound by the Same Umbilical Cord

Stone and Scratcher after a photo by Frank Cimatu My human knows how to scratch ecstasy and submission out of me, rendering my retractable claws cold as a wet nose. My side turns into a Zen garden. I lie, a stone smoothed by hands of love, slender fingers tracing landscapes on my...

Hypnagogic

I see a scarecrow On the yellow moon By the window Of the third kind Woman or man I ought to know I look to the left It shifts to the right Towards Venus I look to the right It pivots to the left Away from Polaris But the night Out of the spotlight Restarts daylight

Two Poems for the Road

A Dirge (Majayjay-Lucban Road, June 16, 2024) How swift the shift from Thalia’s smile to Melpomene’s frown. One moment, Jack was about to crack a joke. Then smack into our bus the trike smashed, a deadly strike. Traffic crawled at the bloody spectacle of the sprawled body splayed in a strange angle. Dazed in shock, I brace myself for a...

Three New Poems

The Demanding Gospel For Sunil Stephens “Luke’s Gospel is a gospel of mercy; it emphasizes Jesus’ identification with the poor and the lowly, and His willingness to forgive sinners. Yet it is also a demanding gospel, for it shows that being a follower of Christ...

Slaughterhouse Poems

When My Father Passed Away This theater is a slaughterhouse where filaments of grief are too shifty to cut, amusing guests who come  along with gestures broadly understanding what brought them in, inscribing very clearly associations overhanging with the deceased. The bereaved insists on what needs to be preserved along fertility lines, which unkind behavior should be dismembered. Here,...

Reunion Introspection

Life at 75 My silver mane shows Natural beauty of age With warts, lines and all My silver mane speaks Of struggle and redemption With passion and faith On departed classmates Gone forever now Memories we celebrate Lives well lived and loved On our humanity Human lives deserve Peace that is socially just Fight for it we...

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