4am isn't too early
for uber or grab
to take my money

24/7 Mcdonald's
an extra cup of coffee
sunlight creeps in

3 teens next to me jam
to South Border and
small talk

1season
too many reasons
pass by

for the white matter slipping between
us
       sorting itself
to make another way back.

Tell me
       some oratorical satire.

I want to believe you
then laugh at you.

Poetry is a dog's work,
writing is a phase to lose.

There is no food in principles,
the principle is in the food.

To forge without craftiness,
an utter waste of labor.

History is a fool,
vanity is now.

*There is no recollection.

The word spoken in silence
already is.

twitter
twitter twitter
a parakeet in place

echoes in
a forgotten
crowd

Before the beginning,
Man said, "This is a world to conquer."
Hence, Man released his word
and it was a resounding,
"I will."
A bright shining beacon
separated the darkness.

This was how it began.

The next day, Man separated
high-minded thoughts from base desires
and called one educated and planned,
the other, trivial and crass,
and made one above the other in ranks.

Morning and evening passed.

On the third day, the desires were gathered
and separated into virtues and vices.
Each had seeds abundant with
the reapings of their own rewards and consequences.

All was good but the darkness and light
were stark. So on the fourth day
Man said, "I will give the darkness flecks of light
and the light covers of darkness
so that everything will have shadows
and shades to cover themselves upon."
And Man saw all was as he pleased.

Then Man pronounced, "I will fill
the virtues and vices with every sort of thing
to feed on according to their kind.
They shall be fruitful and multiply and they shall
swarm and crawl and fly according to their own kind.
They shall become beasts and livestock which
plot and prey on each other according to their own kind."
And so it was on the fifth day.

When Man saw how everything
was as he made it to be,
Man said, "I shall make a god in my own image, he will
be as I proclaim and
be the bearer of my creation. He will be for me
a cause to have dominion over all."

And so on the sixth day,
Man created a god in his own image
to subdue everything. He said to him, "Now, you will
grant me permission to do as I have always done and
in your name, claim glory."

On the seventh day, Man saw all was absolved
and done according to his will.
Man rested and let the name of god
carry the load.

How we string together
     what binds us
     to ourselves

When did we become
     masters? This
     redundant throne

We buy into glory for
     our satsfaction
     then leave

for another slides into
      the seat of our mind.

take me to where
streams lie still
asleep in an hourglass

i will trade my glider
for a raft
and go around the world

chase after sea turtles
venture into the Amazon
catch minnows with my hand

swim ashore and walk
barefoot into jungle
scale the Andes

drink molten ice caps
and bask in the beatings of a naked sun
to breathe the fresh

thin air
intoxicated with coca
infused with enough starlight

to turn the equator
into arcs of fire
and build

mi casa
mi pueblo
mi corazon de amor

In your footsteps, i'd lose
myself. we'd lead each
other to burn -- forgoing what
i can be.
                 As it is, we dissipate
in each other's space where time
is only an aspect. There, i fold so
many times, the origami of me crumples.

let's save sanity;

write about
the insanities we
see, think, know,
commit.

it will not last
a lifetime

but can save a life.
​

The fire, the foal, a coming of age
in the light of the darkness
be still.

Faithful, adjourning
take flight in the stars.
Wind gushes.

Away, you fools!
Grasping the straws
of camaraderie.

We light
we sparkle
then fade


Amen.

I want to hold you until a certain time 
of day when the sun lays his head 
on the winter grass, gazing steadily unto you.


We turn our eyes and avert meager glares and 
hoisted brows.
Alas!


What makes this day unlike any other?
The telltale signs of freedom and solitude
whispers
among the dreams and fairytaled wonders we foresaw.

I want to hold you one last time.

-----•○●*●○•----

Look ahead
Buried deep in the ocean's array of waves
Evening passes
The screaming nights

The deep silence 
And the stillness of
This moment
This eternity

dredge in mud
knee deep
but sky high

trudge the sludge
plod the crud
and form tracks

nearly sighted
look far
to reach

growth will follow

i can't see past sanity

    ...tick tock

    the door
    lights out
    creaking floorboards
    of dreams striped and contorted
    you, whirling away
    the night
    calling the cuckold clock

    ...tick tock

    the forest of eyes
    that winter in me
    the tracks in the snow
    bitten off by white waters

    ...tick tock

    i can't see past ignorance

    ...tick tock

    the open blindness to chances
    unrelenting sparks
    of hope faded in memory

    ...tick tock

    in distance
    torn away
    claws scratching canvas
    screeching blackboards
    hands over my ears
    to make it through
    to make it

    ...tick tock

    stop.

A smaller room
hand-me-down clothes
borrowed car

I've no need
for baubles
pets
cliques

I've got less
credit
make-up
options

We were born equal
but you wanted more
so you took everything away
and left me worse than dead.

With nothing left
I found
my self
my friends
my God.

So thank you.

A wave of relief
A sigh
A kiss

A contented smile

I am grateful

*She chatted on an on of evidence of past indiscretions. Having said them again and again, made it easier to piece together the broken pieces of her life. Hearing it once more, felt normal.

There was a time life stopped. There's no real way to descibe it. A cool, clear stream rushing around your ankles, carrying away blood from severed veins, while all you can do is watch that fine, red line escape you.

I hated everything. I even hated hating.

Looking back at all of it, recalling the words, you remember the truth, not the smoke.

Maybe i can go to a better place. Somewhere not as polluted. God knows... more than i can say.

This secret, best kept away
from prying hands that drop
eyes on eaves and awnings.

They stay within
the perimeter of spies and agents
doubling as bartender ears,

drink up and pour
the punch that hits you where
you bleed invisible. The spleen

lacerating split, a penetrating
ooze, cleaves back and forth with you.
Drain out and glaze over. Be very,

very still.

Munting hiram na buhay,                             When will this rented
kelan pa yayaon?                                            lifetime pass?
Pina-walang kabuluhan                                Time has taken  
ang oras na lumipas.                                      the sense of things.
Panahon na sinaksi                                         I have witnessed
pawang di akin sarili.                                    what is not mine.

Kelan ang katapusan?                                    When will this end?
Sa oras ng pagtanggap                                   In accepting
ng tinig mo? Irog,                                            your voice? My dear,
ika'y aking kamatayan.                                   you are my death.

Ano ang pinangakong                                    Where is
payapa at galak,                                               peace and joy
kung puso'y sumisikap                                   if the heart still toils
sa inaasahang pangarap?                                towards it's endeavors?

Kelan mabubuksan                                          When will I unlock
ang pagkakataon ng pangakong                    the promise
ligaya mula sa kamay mo?                              from your hands?
Di pa sapat ang pagsunod?                             Is compliance not enough?

Asan na ang hinanap pangarap na ligaya,      Where is happiness
mula sa pawis, pagnanasa?                               sought with sweat and desire
Gawin ang lahat                                                  of risking all                
sa anumang konsekwnsya?                               no matter what?

Sino ako? Taong                                               Who am I? so presumptive
mapangahas sa sariling kalooban,                 of my own will,
ligaw sa ilang,                                                   lost in the wild,
lasing sa layaw,                                                  drunk for indulgence,
lulon sa kadiliman at kawalan.                        drowned into its depths.

ano ako sa Yo?                                                   what am i to You?
yapak.                                                      ­           footprints.
alabok.                                              ­                  dust.
pinag-duraang basura ng lansangan.            garbage spit in the street.

Ginawa mo aking kapalaran,                           You made me thus,
palayok at pinggan.                                           as a clay ***.
Sa yong kagustuhan                                          Transformed and used
tadhanang pupuntahan.                                    for what you forge.

Aking tanggap                                                    I accept
kawalan ng karapatan,                                      lost of rights,
pagsuko ng kalayaan,                                       surrendered freedom,
layag sa kagustuhan,                                         adrift from wants,

yaong kababaan.                                                and lowly.
Paglisan ng sarili, bihag                                    when i abandon myself, as Your
at lingkod mo,                                                      captive and servant
nawa'y malaya sa mundo.                                  may i be free of this world.

i see that
smile
but separate from my lips

i see those
tears
but not of my eyes

and that
sweat
from brows

not mine
but the voices
pretending to be me

i am perturbed of
the two voices
in my head
so sure of themselves
of where i should go

i tried one way
thought i could
have what i want
resulted in how
the other said i'd be

i went the other way
unable to go fully
and i could not
identify myself
apart from them

.               they said
.                               so
.                                   it was let
.                                                   alone
.                                                            in the dark
.                                                           ­                     side
.                                                                ­                       by side with me.

in the in-betweens and half-steps
you took me away, into
and out of
the go-getters and lay-lowers

with you, the en-compass-ing
points of origin do not end

so you bring me back
to a beginning.

If I should fall a thousand steps into your arms,
will they not wait? For I
let not Cassiopeia move beyond her throne
to encroach my bed.
                                       Let gravity
seek its master upon my feet
and warm itself in my slippers,

carry me through curtains
and clouds of deceit to reach a haloed moon
in an airless night. If I

should wait a thousand years for a single step into your arms,
will they not open? For I
let wide the gates and fiery the oil

to relinquish the kingdom and forge
against the current into the quiet distance.

I

It rained at each night's birth, and I wonder how things never go as we
intended. Each howl is a reminder of how dark it gets as we soldier along
the low visibility from the meconium we dump on ourselves. But we
tunnel our way into that night sky, lapping up any spark and shadow --
teetering between what is and was become us.

It shouldn't matter because it never did, not to you,
not as much as it did to me. That's why the day came to you much earlier,
and yet the rain still poured, murky and no matter how you clean it, it stains

between skin and nails, and that spot where it all begins,
between lung and air. I could breathe it in
and drown out of water.

II

Funny as the rain goes farther away, thunder is heard more distinctly.
Still trying to breathe, that was when you cut us off. One by one,
choking through the daylight at night, while the windows shatter
on the white-tile floor. "Water!

I need water!" someone shouted. It was warm
and cold at the same time, what my insides
were telling me my outsides were feeling. Just then, some semblance
of progression, a rhythm that tethered complacency began
to show. Something made me believe
it isn't suppose to be like this, but nothing
showed me otherwise.

The rain has stopped.

III

Blood and glass litter the once pristine and antiseptic. Shards
get missed, but it doesn't matter. No one talks about those.
It's made for an easy clean-up. It all sounds fishy. The smell
was the problem,

stuck to our hair, our skin, even the fresh linen
covering our nakedness did not escape the memory
of the congealed and spent. Our petrichor
binds us all, until we're not anymore.

I can be enchanted by how sunlight
through your windows filter brighter
around dirt. Everything out of
your open doors screams self-less "I!"
How the architecture astounds
and enlightens ignoramuses, balconies
bear shortcomings of the uninitiated.

I bought your portraits of
rising from the garbage
left you from those
who ******* you over.

How many people could praise you enough?

Ungrateful, to believe
your enemies and other frauds.
I dare doubt your methods?

The castle surrounded
by gas lamps and
gas lighters can not
burn down
so long as mirrors show
only the beauty of your
astounding heart

-shaped head.

I've letters of a thousand
summers simmering under
a closet of dust and bones

Night fell with the dewdrops
when single blade grew
into a mighty sword

My lips tasted rust
as the sun rose
as they knew you

no matter how
often i seek
it is you
who must allow
me to see

to dance / on uneven
footsteps of our
endeavors / black and white
photos / on others' walls /

our feast / doenjang guk
egg caramel custard
sinampalukang salmon
white wine / from
retail therapy and stress / devour /

i only drink / cheap wine
politicians
celebrities
criminals / i want
less of the more
they show /

i dance
while i wait / share
a mismatched meal with me

Let water fall
forlorn down,

cascade sorrowful
past perpetual loss

sourced from wellsprings
that saturate pinnate lines

and sustain interstitial spaces
of silent missensed mourning.

Let sensate streams buoy
and suffuse afresh to rise

fertile, fecund, fulfilled.
Now wash the withered

and woeful
past away.​

i watch those shows
you mentioned. the ones
about writers and the
lovers of writers.
i sit naked. typing.
the day wears on me, humid

like you. you are

no lover of writers -- poets, even less.
i sit naked, typing because
of you. ******* you
from me. i no longer write
to you. you are no lover
of writers nor poets. i am
unseen. i make do and make it
worthwhile. i am naked. you
are not. it is better this way.
you will pass naked, too
someday.

II  silence


"I fear I may lose myself
before our first kiss..."


Fifty calls later
we still talk
about nothing

And nothing
is certain
Not the wildfires
Not the rainstorms

Just this beating
of the clock...

I   "LIGAW"

"The vibrato of this gypsy dance
Wanes under the midnight sun"

It's blue and amber all at once. In those brief
moments, i imagine a future for us. 

A flutter of a smile passes. A deep sigh.

I hear a million tones of "maybe",
watch the moon fade.

The blur stays with me long after.
It covers up a hollow beating and
a thrill of the unsaid and unmet.

There is no way
to describe that tug
away,

no words to call
that pull
of two poles,

one that anchors
a grave and another
that catches light.

There are no silences
to fill the moments
gone

no way to revere
the deadened
foot trails

no choice to go
but where the heart
leads logic to stray.

Blue and somber white, I ask that
you ponder in your waking dreams and solid songs to bare the fruits with these eyes
like children and horses and such.

Naked and trembling. You frighten me.
Words of a thousand suns are witness.
They cross out the years of servitude and grace.

Absolutions. They yearn
to survive until they crave mortality.

I am about to give way. To see you with fresh sight,
hear the voice of another betrayal. Thus far,
there is only One

I have never seen
I have never heard
I have never known.

Cruelty abates
itself, shuns itself.

We wait in silence and petulance,
longing for a day to last
a thousand days
and more.

I sleep to feel                                                                          
your touch sway                                              
pendulums.                                                        

                    Images swirl                                                                            
                    in a couldron                                                                          
                    they boil into                                                    
                    mist.

We looked at the stars
and the moon to navigate
within the time and spaces of our confines

I see the lunar ricepaddies give their soft glow
and well-lit veins tremble under thin tranquil clouds

Once, I had no home
Tossed in the waves of uncertainty and disbelief,

I looked to the stars and further
for patterns of usefulness
The bright lights were glaring

while the empty seas inside turned dark

I found no reflection.

A minute passes.

I’m miles ahead of where I used to be

We strive to be first
on land, run off into the end
of our discoveries, then jump.

I am an ascendant. Derived
from none. The wide spaces
between us bleeds

into open waters. Salt has scarred
the umbilicus and feeds
me no more. I breathe

the tides. They recall their dead
and wash them of sins. They
call to me to join them .

Heart, 

you make me flutter, 

you make me scatter, 

then you make me tatter.

The well overflows
floods all things.

My reflection swirls
into the tunnel
swimming in a cul de sac
of wallow, like goldfish
in bowl slime.

I could say...

make love to me
and touch me here...there...
etcetera.

I probably shouldn't.

Some things are better.

it was winter when i wrote you ;
crags, rocks, trees, were all black
on white and ice --

ice,
it beat on my door --
slivered on the mattress,
sheets of it --
a bedfellow, willing,
eager.

when did the scorpion bring
warm coals to temper the night?
the howl of the moon,
the scorch of the sun --

inside was fire, gurgling.
it was froth and magma.

i heard the tempest, both sea and sky --

faith,
they called
it a rock.
a deep,
black,
rock


in ice.

10

She knelt
in the hunger days of youth.
Castrated, *****
and ****** up.

"All in the mind,"
they said
"don't isolate yourself
from the wolves."

One by one
a chunk of flesh
is just a piece of
stolen candy.

"Don't fear us,"
they said.
"We'll keep you alive.
It will be our pleasure."

  20

My thoughts are written
on the side of my head.
Yet, they hide from you.

Under the letters,
your commas and clauses,
your conditions.

Words.
They mean nothing.
Yet everything is seen in them.

Why.
It never ends.
Well.

  30

It went on. This series of
talks. It ails me. 
The cheapness of this
masquerade.

The farce 
is fun to watch. Happy with
this comedy
of silence, and the cold.

Children used to play,
now used for play-- 
like bots,
or chess.

If I didn't have
a God, a heart, a soul,
you'd be happy
with your ghost in a shell.

  40

The legal guy spoke as if
he knew what was right.
Legal is something else.

What do i know.
"You know nothing, John Snow."
is a fine meme for one of us.

I can hear the anger in your tone,
the hysteria rises each time I dont go along
willingly.

When I was a child,
I thought like a child.
How convenient that was for you.

you see through me
the way shadows are cast
on the ocean floor

slit between
open mantles
i seep unto you

Nobody talks
of love
thrown into a gutter.*

There is no glory in leaves
rotted to mulch,
turned with dirt.
They drain
and clog.

One look begins our pain,
one sweep ends their suffering.

We attend
at all times
a need to strive
and tend our strife.
To clear the heap,
we burn,

return to ourselves in a corridor of light,
and make do with the bareness of our hands.

The mind follows,
the will carries.
We reach

and let go.
Our smoke
glides the current,

for dreams do not die,
only granted
to the passing-by.

What it is,
tethered to your arms?
*** has gone.

******* hurled itself
out the door and into the highway,
lured by the hitch hiker's course.

Your ****** shaft bears
no resemblance to a sheathed dagger
that once slayed

indiscriminant of ***** lips and vulvous tongues.
Hands that hailed eyes
shut to meaning, mouthed

delirious to more than ailments of corporal pleasures.
Flesh to flesh,
breath to skin,

sweat of your brow
dripped into the last sheets
soiled and saturated.

But what is it,
tethered to your arms still?
Transfigured

to what lingers beyond
a look and a touch,
strings the web to another bridled day.

she got hit by a bus
that fine day he took the car for a spin.
around the block to buy satè beef noodles
from the little store in the alleyway

that night, dama de noche spilled from the trellis
a fragrant moon covered the ground
petals tiptoed the pond
and little fish lips kissed them

I'd have drowned
not for air
but for tears
and salted knees

they glanced at us with iron
a bamboo stick drew blood from our backs
you left for a dream
and us in cold water

i still buy chips
coffee beans in bulk
i give them away
buy more

barefoot
soil worked its way in between my nails
it washes off in the streams
rocks no longer draw blood

the hot sun
the cold water
a clean breath
and me

it is always today
every other time never was

i am always here
far away from you

blades of grass gather
the wind

cattails sing
of shallow rain
tremors of dragons
litter the sunlight

some carry tears
others cry away
a curl of absence
embroiled with relief

They march
withered but undying
with mud
fallen sweetly on their faces.

A new sky and a tender wind
grant severance from the sea.

Haunt us no more
with your pikes and arrows.
Blend our moanings and call our names:

the sunflower,
the wind,
the moonshine breaks

a mirrored frame,
a knighted sky,
and iron cast in embroidered lace.

I lay my hopes in
a hinterland of grace/waste.

What will a soul bring
that a body cannot
in sorrow or in death?

When sentiments of corpses
hang high from windows
paneled by offense,

stars fall on broken strings.

i've never been without you, neither
have i felt any real need for you.
you were someone that was there,
you made living (dying?) more comfortable.


then, there was the time that i wanted you. so much
to have you, prove i could have you,
say you're not a big deal. that was the time
i was so angry for not having you,
not being able to get you, not being able to prove
what you are or are not.


i hated you. what it meant not having you.

i can still taste that hatred sometimes.
it tastes like fat. like oil.
deep fried
satisfying
it hits my stomach
absorbs into the intestines
inches its way to those places
separating organs from each other
then seeps to that fine fine space
just under the skin

it sits there, i can't get rid of it
but i want more
that slick, slimey feel on my lips
taste buds tingling for release
until i'm not sure who's devouring what.



i haven't a stitch of you left with me now
im a liar and a thief
and even i being me
wouldn't trust myself if i were someone else.
why should you



a strange thing
to be free with nothing
not even a calculated expectation

outside
everyone despises that

but the taste of it
is like sweet water.