Poetry

I So in a fit of righteous anger I washed the pots pans plates bowls knives spoons glasses even cleaned the kitchen sink and the drawers, which I haven’t been able to do for a long time. The leftover food I did not care to save for the dog. I...

Mornings do not rise Above this leafy prison. Time hangs midnoon Over sharp sugarcane leaves, Striking against the downpour Of cruel sunrays. All the sounds enclosing Are the rustle of the peering enemy And the striking of our espading Against the earth's unflinching deadness, Whose parchedness is under our tongue And whose flame is...

“You’re free to dream,” is what’s often heard For wishful thinking seems to be done daily And nobody had to pay a dime to keep it in their minds Or really is it so? The price of a dream never comes cheap It has, and always has been,...

Aimless and astray—“I won’t go far”But most times, I am lost in the intricate streets and manmade blocks Not knowing the way back to your bosom I am the leaves, bloodless even with the stomping feet of menand most often I am the leaf that...

I walked barefoot on the Pacific beach,the sand a chill, the sun a dying coal.Waves whispered secrets to the rocks,and there it was—a spiral waiting in the breath of the tide.Its surface shone,etched with lines curling inward,like a road curving toward a hidden...

Here my mother, who must have been in her early forties, sits on a stone ledge at Fort San Pedro overlooking the Guimaras Strait. The sun must have been strong, as she smiles, trying not to squint against the glare, as her left arm holds my then six-year-old...