Poetry

1 I will contain my excitement I will take a deep breath and close my eyes 2 I will think that six days will pass as usual without notice, and 3 the nights will be restful, I will sleep without counting the hours 4 my stomach will be alright, breakfast will be as big as they always are, and 5 later in the day, I will write poems ...

1 he talks to me about the cats when I am sad and I think the cats think that is funny 2 then the cats are anxious when I am sick and they like to sleep on my belly 3 the cats understand three languages now, English, Tagalog and Bisaya, I talk to them a lot and so I learned to speak catese 3 of ...

my child take care of your soul it was forged upon love that is rare upon a bond that endures your father cradled you with his songs and endowed you with the blood of his mystic ancestors and your mother thinks of you constantly in her meditations she is pensive when she sees you hurting she is old yet she gathers her strength for you to keep you alive, my child feed your soul ...

Now I am about to finish the final draft of a book of poetry. It took a few days before I started feeling better again. He always greets me in the morning and helps me sleep at night. I like the seclusion. I get ignored sometimes. I felt too exhausted. Maybe I can start traveling ...

it was of course a breach of trust that he couldn’t even remember what he had done and so he couldn’t even remember how he ridiculed my pain amongst his whores and how they laughed! and he denied where I had walked since he abandoned me to the crusades yet I offered peace and he dismissed and can’t remember without memory he claims without any idea of what he was doing and so ...

for many years he was relentless meticulous in the craft of the knife carving out letters on pieces of wood that the river carried after every storm he carved the messages for no one and yet he let the river take them back to somewhere he wished for in jest perhaps and so he becomes weary and weary with the knife yet the craft of the knife gave him the skill of the fork like the ...

he must’ve been eight hours dead when I saw him I identified the body and they gave him to me without asking who I was and I didn’t know what to do except not to cry because he didn’t want me to cry I should’ve been there when they took him I should’ve been washing his body I should’ve been combing his hair but now everything that should’ve been have already been done in the ...

1 this time it will be like the first poem like the very first steps of a child 2 and somehow this frightens me I feel like I am very small like I return to my mother’s womb 3 outside there is turmoil, a bustle of things they make me feel insignificant so free 4 it is the simplest of all forms the most basic of all fears where I as ...

1 yes, it appears to be the first poem of someone the very first steps of a child, very simple, very careful 2 I started making the brush poems, illegible, when I was in the city in a very small room, very crowded, there is little space 3 perhaps, to wish away the turmoil of the city and yet at ...

Now I am about to finish the final draft of a book of poetry. He always replies to my maunderings. He insists our work should relate to each other. He always greets me in the morning and helps me sleep at night. I wanted to destroy all my work. I get ignored sometimes. I felt ...

1 change my freedom for a mortgage 2 amicrazy? amicrazy? 3 change my sunshine for a wage slave 4 noway! noway! 5 change my old love for some candy 6 wotthehell! wotthehell! 7 I got ham and bacon to make lots of salad lots of tea 8 my love is so romantic I’m impetuous and he loves me we’re toujours gai toujours gai! Inspired by Don ...

1 after the storm here in the city it is gray and dreary 2 so I get excited when a ray of sunlight enters the room 3 back home after the storm the sun shines through the trees and suddenly 4 there’s a field of pink flowers in the garden sometimes they are white never pink and white at the same time 5 the goat ate many of the flowers but they keep coming back 6 here ...

1 it will be a sacred ritual to contain the delirium of our fasts 2 pour carefully the emperor’s wine upon my tongue 3 molave smooth like your thighs beneath my feet 4 the bed is soft and not in shambles where our weary bodies lie 5 my breasts upon yours the light scent of sandalwood where we touch 6 now let us kiss gently, softly drench these lips we are parched 7 with your finger stroke ...

1 ah there you are yes you my mighty bull white raging bull 2 upon whose horns I sit my toes on your nose you tickle me! 3 you yes you my frisky dragon burning your breakfast while eating! 4 let’s dance the fire on your tongue let us drink wine! 5 ah there you are yes you my dear Neptune 6 the pearl of my aching loins 7 I am ...

1 I’m on fire, love the saudade of your lips 2 I’m glowing with the heat the saudade of your fingers 2 hold my little berries in the warmth of your mouth that wonderful warmth that saudade! 4 my lily of the valley glisten with the lick of your tongue 5 in the thrill of the sultry saudade of your kisses 6 oh! love this belly so tenderly misses 7 the glint of your jewel on my lips ...

1 so you say folks at the market they all ask about me when they see you getting by alone 2 then at the city the tricycle drivers they’re cheering where I am, why you’re all alone 3 seems in the village folks they’re betting do I return to you or not 4 my folks they’ve been asking if you’re coming to take me back 5 I know it’s been crazy it’s been hard but you ...

1 often I say foolish things, let’s not talk just hold my hand and look at me, I’ll shut up 2 if I won’t let you kiss me, just bring me lilies from the garden, I’ll smile 3 I lie in bed and won’t get up, let’s have breakfast in bed 4 if I’m crying, please kiss me! 5 if you cuddle the cat instead of me that always makes me ...

Now I am about to finish the final draft of a book of poetry. I wrote the poems during a very difficult time in my life. He always replies to my maunderings. He always greets me in the morning and helps me sleep at night. I get ignored sometimes. I like the seclusion. We have an ...

1 when I am angry and confused ask me for a walk in the woods 2 though I often refused ask me for a swim it makes me happier 3 on doleful days ask me to sit with you and wait for the sunset 4 or cook a meal together it’s fun 5 and it was nice I thought when you ask me to look at the beans you’re growing in the garden 6 or in ...

1 my first winter and spring was with you, we entered the Pfynwald and I wasn’t cold, perhaps the Alps love me 2 and my first temperate summer we went swimming in Scheveningen though I couldn’t swim 3 when you first came to Asia the gods must love you because in Hong Kong they gave you a wonderful banquet! 4 we were weary but we walked through ...

1 he cried, so much when he saw me enjoying the water like a little girl 2 the baby pink flowers he got them, to decorate my hair so cheap, but they made me happy 3 after we made love, he said I had changed, I have matured he caressed me until I fell asleep 4 I urinated on myself, yet he massaged my wet feet ...

Now I am about to finish the final draft of a book of poetry. I am beginning to miss my husband. She said she kept hearing voices. He always replies to my maunderings. He always greets me in the morning and helps me sleep at night. My tumors are all behaving themselves too. I like ...

In the heart of the bustling city – a peculiar hunting expedition – Where female is stalked daily – by gatherers of a certain sort – They watch her silicones reflected – on the tall mountains of glass – In the dusk a feeding frenzy – the clink of glasses and jewels – The deafening synthetic music – to deaden the screams of the ...

In the twilight of mental male there is plumbing of great complexity – It grinds to a halt – – repairs are D.I.Y. – but the pipes are the finest the Christofle of silver In the dusk of the male sex there is appliance of great interest – It sputters electric – – revived by D.I.Y. – but its cogs are the finest the Baccarat of ...

There was talk in the market that morning of the bombing of Manila and so I collected the rice and tomatoes swiftly, and passed by the church with a prayer, a quick touch of my fingers to the Santo Rosario and to my lips the church will be full tomorrow when they begin to count the bodies of the dead I crossed the road ...