has anybody told you
that there at the end part
of this journey
is only a certain height
a depth that you can see like
a chasm of
fading darkness
down to the earth
and then to the highest
sky

that when you arrive there
there is only a sky of
cotton
made of all the elements of
air
which when your finger touches
touches only
nothing?

they all made it up
so that you can be like them
hoping against hope
dressed
and heavy with their thick
clothing
to solve a coldness
to walk more miles
to have a basket of nothing
but
metaphors

a garden of eden
an ark of triumph
a manger of humility
a revelation of
fear
the much awaited next
book of
light and glory


one should not be mindful

let us try to see
a window open
a dove with a green leaf
on its beak
an eagle lost in the wild
feasting on
the flesh of the dead

seasons of love

dainty white daisies
spread over a hill
dancing with the wind
under the sun

dainty white daisies
wilting upon the hill
wet with the rain
dead and rotten

wilting time

it's is wilting time
says the flower

seduce the sun
let there be conflagration

on the leaves
let all these yield to

the drying of veins
and dehydration

the sun comes
and the flower bows down

it is wilting time
& Love says

it's a lovely day
just perfect for me

alien song

in a song
which he felt
alien as
he is to the language
yet his
heart
completely
understands

wedding notes (Planta, Bacolod)

 i

from the heart
she sings
her passion to
the groom
who
surprised in
such joy
profusedly
tears fall
like pearls
on the
floor

ii

the food perhaps
fall short
the simplicity
was
enough
to quell the
longings of the heart
it was her passion
above all
that made the occasion
more
memorable

iii

when passions reach
the heights of
flames
when the heart burns
like
a ball of fire
we have no more words
we can offer
only bouquets of magnificent
silence

smoke , alcohol and talk

something in us
feels the need
for smoke for
alcohol
for talk

it is not at all
times
that talk is there
so we
compromise
with
smoke and
alcohol

we must not expect
much from
talkers

they too need to
talk
somewhere
and with
someone else
other
than us

smoke gives you
the idea
about how is it
to float
and be gone

alcohol
illustrates
the value of
loss
the need
to take in something
without
gaining
anything

at Karl's

that evening
i smoked three packs
of winston cigarettes

i love the menthol
soothing in my
nostrils

i did not refuse
the bottles of beer
i was taken by
the bottles

cosme thrived
on glasses of coffee
and stood up
to sing
a bocelli


i have the manners
of the drunkard

no one noticed
that
all those were
my first
time

oh i love it
and no one noticed
how
malfunctioned
had my nerves
become

the following day
i never had
the hangover

i longed for evenings
and i want
these evenings
repeated

lovely drinking
sipping
evenings forever

these my youth
missed.

love has nothing to do with virgins

i have long
discarded
unicorns

love has
nothing to do
with the
virgins

it has something
to do
with the usual
things that we
do

making everything
unusual
familiar

nothing to surprise
us
nothing painful
because
we have become
used to
all that is
there

an ode to loneliness

come
join me in my bed
of thorns

let us
both suffer
the
consequences
of the
reddest of
all roses

to depression

when you are
tipsy
i know what
you will
say

you're not
drunk

i have not
asked

the tryst under the full moon

how can
i forget the
full moon
on top of
me on top
of you