I found a poem
In an LRT station
Garbage can
Written on the back
Of a 7-11 receipt
In blue ink

It was a letter
Of heartbreak to
A hometown lover
Four stanzas
And a couplet

And then the train
Arrives in cold blood
Like an army captain
But I decided
Not to join

There is something else
That needs my
Presence
I put the receipt
Back in its place

There was a poem in my head
As I woke up this morning
I tried writing it at breakfast
But lost it by noon

I walked through the garden
In the hopes that I
May find a trace of it hiding
By a flower or a fountain

It talked of two angels
And a hunger for love
And a smile that had the glory
Of the planets above

By evening I left
The university disjointed
And went looking for company
In a church assembly

And there I met a friend
Who I lost years back
And slowly I let my heart sink
Into the sea of warm regards

We talked and exchanged smiles
Like newly formed planets around
The same star; A shared understanding
Of the night’s meaning

My friend soon left, and I did too
And I walked slowly home
With an angel in my heart
And a newly written poem

Madness is the beginning of wisdom
Wild longing is the beginning of love
Come dance with me
Inside the courtrooms of Dionysius
Let us get drunk on wine
And make songs out of our heartbreaks
With a choir of those who come
From the highway of despair
******* off the old gods of Sumer
Let us make love like we're in a soap opera.
Drive a car across the Sahara desert
And pick wild flowers on the Serengeti.
Come, let us transform our longing into a constellation
To be picked apart by a mad astronomer
To be wondered at by others like us
Let us debate with existentialists
Create theories on the human soul
Retire and raise chickens on a farm in Kansas
And celebrate Christmas in Manila's suburbs
Fear not, for angels will guide us the rest of our lives
Fear not dying and let the emptiness of existence be your rest 'til death

The morning throws us one way
Coffee sends us another
A message flies us off the earth
While glances chain us to the sea

A thought, like a drop of ink
In water, spreads and covers
Our quiet demeanor
With its demands

I missed the bus today
And after an hour I feel
The riptide
Pull me from the shore

As I looked out of my
bedroom window,
two sparkles of light
equal in brightness hover
in the distance.

One, bursting forth
from a slab of rock holding
visions of a woman, a fridge,
the opening and closing of doors,
a drunkard, a mute, a broken jar
the booming screams of a child,
the thunderous fall of a chair.

In the second, farther still,
an ocean of bright plasma.
Swirling with great force
between white birth
and red death. Flickering
with great intention then
thinning out into
nothingness.

A poem should be light
Like phosphorescent fingers
Touched by Saturn's rings
A poem should be musical
Teaching God to dance
Barefoot on the Andes peaks
A poem should have grace
Feeding the hearts of angels
As they clothe the bare lilies

I dreamt of a former lover
Half forgotten
In an unknown cottage
We kissed

Outside was a field of flowers
Facing the sun
On the warm bed
We cuddled

And then comes the electric
Winter wind
And my body shivered
A deathly blow

My lover has disappeared
I'm left alone
In a dark room pierced
By broken glass

Throw me like
        yesterday's newspaper
I'll come rolling back
       around like tommorow's weather

Abandon me
        to the elements
I'll still cling to you
         like the sacraments

Forget me like
          an unwanted memory
I'll be what you need
          your deepest remedy

Ignore me like
          you ignore the flies
I'll be the one
          to remember your lies

Some poems last a century
Some poems last an hour
Yet others are satisfied
With holding no real power

I’ve done my purpose they say
No need to delay
Like a breeze that cools an infant’s head
Like a gentle kiss before bed