the heat of an approaching story
(they have their own way of trickling
  your hands are hourglasses on the wooden table,
  the sands of whose sea you have shattered immensely
  with a single stroke of    recklessness)

it will be punctuated by the silence taken to the limit
   of a moment’s finite order
  (I dip my hands into the palms of useless glance
    waving heavily against the concrete lip of this dark
   intervening, standing in between as fury on the other side
   of the city is taken to the streets – barricades and men
        bawl into the fullest weight of the world,
     you said you   see all of it.)

and  will reach the lilt of   embrace,
  in all forms plundered of sentiments,
  all of it taken into the  air where

  I    see the final bird of dawn, flying
   and I cannot.

blank spaces sharpen the same way a whetted blade would
   in a dull moment of assault;

the sky above me, I wished for, over in and caving for,
  a gun doing its own sinister deed

of shoving into the highlighted realm of some peace-distortion
  when it is done, I will hear laughter shearing

the wind with its beautiful imprint
  unless it was always darkness and just that – a place for passion

and so much of it in the middle of nothing, I cannot
  bid well into these frenzied moments of tense

stillness – when it is done
I will hear you laughing, screaming into the wind,

    a name,   *someone else’s

You’re well-received in the Sun, this extraordinary Wednesday with nothing
  to do but to look out the window in transit and feel the breeze
  when it happens, that it takes a sojourn also – imagine it into form of all things
  gone wrong when love took its place.
  a linkage of all misguided features and ghosts, some travesties along the way
but it is all good once you bet on horses in burning stables, each eventual fall
  of hand into another hand – you see his, and sense a potential glower into
  detail. The patter of rain when it falls hard, and taking into account bodies
   flaying in unrestricted pace, breaking – when the impossibility of an immovable object
   meets
                   an almost impenetrable force or reckoning and no distance or collision was met,
  only retch at the volatility of the variables we have no use for
     such as love.

we circumambulated the cathedral
  and whose face of gray for I to wear
  is insisting that I have been dead for
  a long time as obvious as a bell curve?
whose cross is this that I am carrying
  all across the firmament repeating
  in a yelp of command: salvation?
whose nails if not for knives
do I smother at dawn? stone’s hindsight
and a fool for the world deep in the night,
  beguiled – waters decide my home
is permeable. I must have drowned in sound
a dwarfed image when I shouted

your name in all of my silence.

there are many things trembling, disparate, conscious of their
     spaces. things appear colossal when near. rife as tongued word,
     an approximation – a misuse of time;

     dealing more for sight than feeling, things snap in a very short distance.
     fire burning glowers pale. lilt of a sentence in speech.

      a luminescence is nearness. its impact, relative – brands it a different
      form, recalls it, a clear warning as message.

      what is yearned for is distant. mostly what’s ignored is as obvious
      as want. you, both at the same time, undulating.

sa dagliang pangangalawang ng buto dala
ng bawat patak ng ulan.

ang pinapaling lakas ng hangin palihis
sa kurtina ng pag-iisa, itong kamay na palupot
ng pagkalugmok, hapung-hapo sa paghabol

sa pag-uumaga ng mga sandali.
napababalikwas sa tuwing banaag
   ang hinaharap.

hubad ang bughaw na katawan ng mundo
   ang kulay ng karagatan ay pula – dala ng silakbo
   ng damdamin;

magtatampisaw sa tubig
  hihiga at lulutang
      kasabay ng tagistis ng alaalang walang ibang hangad
                   kundi ang umusad.

marahil ay tulog ang diwa ng binigkas ang salitang
tiyak na ikahuhulog ng buwan mula sa mataas nitong upuan;

ang kamay ay entropiya – ang iyong mukha, ang aking daigdig.
lagablab ng mata, halaw sa init ng pagkakataon.

may taglay na lamig ang hangin, lumalatay sa balat,
at sa nagbabalat-kayong anino sa bakanteng silid.

ang mga umaandap na ilaw – ang tahimik na ugong ng iyong pag-hinga

sa aking tabi, ng aking bigkasin
ang hindi kayang wakasan ng katahimikan lamang.