Poetry

Random and I find our landscape a chore. Every day we push this sunset up a hill then see it roll down. Random knows. She has joined the sunset. His Wawa, adding to the weight of the grey boulder of fading light. I now know why it was the colors she feared. Sunsets everywhere in big cities and small towns. People...

Lord, there’s no day that can carry the load Of living without the help of your grace.  No sun will shine on a land without hope.  The morning there will have nowhere to go,  Like a child who loses sight of its mother,  And then she came, her...

My tongue used to be made up of copra, salivating oils that indicate who I am and where I’m from. A place where coconut husks roof people’s mouths. Instrument to ignite brittle vowels and wavy coir tones. When my people speak, one can hear songs that carry the...

We have our palms embedded in the trunks of trees, embroidered in its leaves were desires left seasoned by the worms. That the fruits were products of a hundred laborers, scattered throughout the jungle of civilization, undisturbed, and the seeds outgrown the narratives of the past, filling the...

To the Woodcarvers of Betis 1 if i could feel the cold hardness of wood, would i also know your will, woodcarver, your will to hew a soul out of a lifeless slab? what skill does it take to craft complete an art, a promised beauty, defined and fulfilled? if i find the wisdom, then, i...

For its brick walls were blotched with rednessLike a child with a high grown fever,The tolling of its bells, bounty and scared. The plaza on its façade, a space of endearmentFor the taho vendors in selling their drinkable breakfastAnd the jeepneys whose wheels turning...