something is missing
like a stone in a pavement

too obvious sometimes but
invisible

he looks for it for a time
finding it finally delicious

at first but after too much
familiarity had become

oblivious and dirty, and so
he throws it again as though

it has not any connection with
itself, rest and forgetting, but

who can not remember it
over and over again?

its dirt has become a part
of your hand and you eat

it everytime you take something
to fill your hunger

for we are too dogs

at first i feel the fear of that stage
when we keep telling ourselves of dreams

last night and the other nights about
our ancestors how grandpa talks how

grandma tells secrets that we too keep
telling to ourselves after we slept

on those silent dawns where we get
so restless for having nothing to do

short of visions and so we gather every
dream like those left in ricefields after

the bumpy harvest as though we want to
keep all these at ease and contained

but we must be as realistic as the dogs
which in their short lives have to get

rid of the sound of their past barkings
sharp paws and teeth and cold noses.

not just that

the cold winds are here
we have prepared for this

we have kept the door strong
the windows are in place

the fire in the kitchen keeps
what warmth what hearth we wish

the preparation is just that
we did not bother we left the house.

what did you do
with the seeds?

i throw them all
away

why did you throw them?

the soil was barren
nothing grows in there

you could have fed the
birds?

i do not like them for
they have wings

birds have wings as
always

i only feed bird with
broken wings

why?

i always feel sad and
betrayed when they all
fly away from me.

let it be simple
i like it when it is made simple
no sophistication
i like it when you make me understand
do not leave me hanging on a cliff
i do not have those strong hands
i am heavy
and i will surely fall
and i may not survive
and no one can tell anymore
what sorrow
you have.

the list shows how deep you are
how admirable and the resulting envy could
be inevitable
sometimes i wonder if that deep ocean
belongs to you and that what i have is only the
shallow part of the shore where i
content myself with foams and sand
and passing wind

i am not yet familiar with the path of the shell
the labyrinths of your chosen words
but i am not that dumb
challenged i shall soon learn all these tricks
but not with a dream to be like you or anybody else
i am handsome in my own way
and in some ways untold
you are ugly.

expiremento sprikitik

nothing moves without a cause
kon mosayaw na gani ang dahon sa lantipay
unya wa tay nakita nga tabili nga nahulog gikan sa
kahoy sa ylang-ylang
then we think that it could be the wind
nga milabay lang sa gawas sa atong bintana
for who has seen the wind?
nobody

it is the leaf which danced which speaks to us
nga miabot na ang hangin

skin is meant to be touched
caressed
if its nature is not met it wilts
and becomes another
problem of the body where it is
always attached

it summons the power of the feet
so that it can go somewhere else to meet
its caress-er
it summons heaven and hell
to fulfill its thirst and hunger
and here comes the body
shamed.

the body is the house
fronting the street where people pass by
some consider it a temple of the
Holy Spirit

it has a door, four windows, a bed,
a kitchen
etc.
where is its heart? in the kitchen?
is the heart a bowl of soup?
where is the libido of this house?
could be in the garage where old cars
and some unused tools are kept
where is the love of this house?
all the children have left a long time ago
and they have their own lives now
at the tips of their sex organs
has anyone remembered the death
anniversary of this house?
do you have a candle and a daisy
and a match?
will you burn this house now? it serves no
purpose at all.
the people who pass the road beside it
cannot even recall the name of the owner anymore.

when you walk away
it matters not to me
i am small and i can keep the house
you are vast, you can keep the world if you like.

when you walk away
someone must stay, and i choose that someone
someone who knows what silence means
what silence speaks about
what it can give to the sorrow of the world
what it says when you say you have something to give in return.

tolerance is
observing for a while
agreeing here and there
and a lot of listening
as though you are
the buyer of the wares
and you let the vendor
do a lot of convincing

at the end
tolerance ends too
and it will say what
usual judgments do
it takes a side
and clings to it
and throws away
what is not
necessary

i am warm

it's been a long time
i lost six dogs, i forgot
an old house, i am retracing
a path, figuring out what
is it that i really want

or need for now, i am a
confused traveler, lost my
map, and missed a flight,
i have no language to guide
me where i must sleep.

i watch the movie of the
world, went into a theater of
porn, ejaculated many times,
eventually suffered the
sequences of ecstacies
fell into a chasm and melted
into depression, but i am

alright now, knowing what
i want, pretensions uncovered
i do not mean to serve
i only mean to love myself
till the end, shaking my own
hand, congratulating myself
for this feat of living, how i
did not end a life, how i must
care for a flower in a pot
by the window of my life.

i have loved and realized i
did not love you more than
i have loved myself. I am sorry
but i must keep you.
It is my need and i still want
to live. Hold my hands i am
warm.

THE LOGIC OF THE STRANGER

from one tree springs the trunk and the branches
and it seems to me that each part of us always wants to branch out

leaves fall inevitably leaving a
bald space
sort of, i want to go this way and sometimes
i want a
clear butting and
i want to cut you away from my life
so you can grow on your own
independence is a dream of all living
creatures
the strangers look at us: one tree, just one tree
and so pleasing to their eyes
giving shade is enough comfort for a passerby
and hence, i know the reason why,
you are still part of me.

ADVICE TO A LONER
I will attempt not to
misspell
loneliness

at any rate let me inform you
that i have always
correctly spelled it during those times
of extreme depression
to spell it correctly
i need to see a flower
blooming in the desert
that i created myself
and since someone asks
for its scent
i have to make the necessary concoctions
it could be jasmine
or cherry perhaps but i know it all depends on me
and my
way of imagining people and places
colors spring from the rods in my eyes
and scents are sensed by the sensory of my nose
if you are lonely
why not join me in my cup of tea
sip this
it is good for your tongue.

learning from you

three things before one dies

plant a tree
write a book
have a child

not necessarily
in that order perhaps

or make another

write about a child
in a book
and draw a tree
on its cover page

somehow
one must avoid the
chaos

or consider the
situation that you are
in

imagine, what if the
tree bears no fruit?

what if the child in the
book will have
two mothers?

what if the book
will cost
your one and only life?

ask:

have you lived
at all
before you have died?

having that personal space amidst the chaos

the way she lives
in that big and crowded city
is simple
like being packed
sardines inside a night train
bound for home

she sits there, opens a
book
about romance
and focuses her mind
on a page
like a moment in her
life
she feels like a planet
traveling her own orbit
keeping a certain
distance
in order not to fall
or explode
there is a need really
to prevent a head-on collision
with some
inevitable realities
keeping balance
not that high to hit her head against the sky
and not too low
to drown herself in the ocean
it is, as she narrates,
just being between heaven
and hell
that safe boundary between
good and evil

someone inside us

there is someone inside us
someone who is outside the fence
and wants to go inside a house
who keeps on waiting for the right
time to open the door
and then close it again

and there is another one
lurking behind a door
peeping upon a hole and wanting
to see the world out there
always planning a escape but
who cannot
because he holds the key and
then loses it
after so much thinking on how
to really live
while waiting for the light that comes
only from the moon.

without the eye contact

when we talk
we do not really look at each other
in the eye
we have so many places to hide
and we choose the words to conceal
what we really want to say and
mean

i try once to see you straight
in a moment
a flash of having to be candid
even for once
you evade my stare feeling the stab
of truth
and i respect the way you avoid the
pain
somehow we are two islands
set apart by the deep water and lovelier
still
between the rush of the surge
the storm

when you were born
mom did not tell you that the stars in the sky
made a thousand winks
a feast of lights
and a rendezvous of universal droplets of
distances

all the planets however maintain
there respectful distances
trying to show how dignity works
what they did not tell you however
was the silence of the world
tiptoeing not to disturb you with your
first cry

upon robin's death



unexpected
but it happens
most of the
time

the comedian
has been pleasing
to others
but he was never
pleased about
himself
sad, sad really,
but who knows?
he must have seen
more important
than living life
he must have seen
the light and we who live
still in the dark
whatever that is
are saying that
it is another waste of
life