Sometimes, and Maybe After a Cold Rain

sometimes, and maybe after a cold rain
that briefly washes some old irrelevant fears,
a face becomes indelible
in my imaginings.

sometimes, and maybe after a draft from
a cigarette and restlessness settles,
a familiar feeling sits on my chest.

an ache perhaps
or the missing gravity
of skin to skin.

sometimes, and maybe just some times,
you are atrociously stubborn,
frightfully ineffaceable:

you and your weight sitting on my chest,
you and your weightlessness on my arms

you or maybe,
still you again.

The Stranger of Culiat Bridge

in a little cramp space,
where time slips in and peeks
with furtive lashes,
a mumbled prayer is realized:
it took the form of a
lover in red,
mysterious lips in a half-smile,
a knowing crease between the brows;
there is beauty in her eyes,
a wise radiance that seems to
come from a dream.

a strange guest indeed, the neighbors had.
a strange guest in a strange house under
the bridge of 'Culiat,' where buses and trucks
disturbs the peace of sleep,
the calmness of breathing,
and the ritual of meditation.

in a little cramp space,
where time slips in and peeks
with furtive lashes,
a mumbled prayer is realized:
the lover in red
smiled down at the little girl
and said, "you've had enough,"
and then the girl smiled her last.

the trucks and the buses never stopped,
the family was out selling rags,
only her breathing

and her smile stopped.

Distance

Gusto kong matukoy ang eksaktong layo ng puso at puso –

sabi mo andyan ka lang at ‘di malalayo,
kahit saang sulok ka man humayo
walang dagat, bundok o taong
hahadlang pag hinanap nitong puso.

sabi mo, maghintay lang ako dito.
hindi naman ako umalis sa inuupuan ko,
‘di ba’t ganyan ang kapalaran naming mga babae?
maghintay. maghintay. maghintay sa inuupuan.

sabi mo, “huwag kang makulit, babalik ako.”
hindi na ako umimik nang lumamig ang
'yong unan at lumao’y dumilim ang anino ng orasan.

blue nga ba ang mga mata ng amerikana?
totoo bang malambot ang kanilang buhok?

alam ko na.

alam ko na ang eksaktong layo
ng puso at puso:

puso(puso)puso.

Marahil Kumunoy ang Puso

marahil kumunoy ang puso;

unti-unti nitong nilalamon ang ako,

ang ikaw,

at siguro pati na rin ang tayo.

dahan-dahan ang proseso

walang pagmamadali.

sistematiko ang paggapang

ng manhid.

may lason ang bawat kumpas -

dahan-dahan din itong pumapatay.

Do You Remember That Night When You Whispered

Do you remember that night when you whispered
to my ears, half-asleep, half-dreaming of sleep,
that everything will be as they are always meant to be?
that the certainty of that night will
cancel the uncertainties of the days.
we were two naked souls, my arms around you,
stroking flesh, painting murals on your soft skin.
that night, a sprocket was removed in the wheel of our lives.
i think of that night as if in a haze - a dream, in a dream of Dream.
a cloud of smoke hovers on our heads and a sensation
of lassitude overwhelms us after that sex: like the lazy heat
after a storm - flies buzzing in our ears.
Do you remember that Tuesday night? when the moon
is an imagined boat, rocking to the steady breath of lovers.
we exhale and inhale at the same time, moving the moon-boat
to the sea of living, dead and dying stars.
And did you see the parting of clouds as the moon-boat
approached them? the open window lets in the sighs of a
thousand broken things. I said to myself: "If only I can remember this night
for the next hundred years." and as if an exhumed god heard me,
took note of my prayer in his moleskin.
Do you remember the sound of brand-new sheets? ruffling in
answer to our passions. and the muffled TV, and the cooling
of the coffee on the table? it was a deafening orchestra

to match the cicadas of summer.
That night, we invented Eden. we named every living and non-living
creation, we made love in the presence of angels, in the wide-open
eyes of demons - in the darkest eye of myths.
Do you remember I whispered the secret names of God, that night?
Do you remember the ten thousand things we named?
that night, all the figures of speech covered their eyes and feigned deaf.
we became both the simile and metaphor of the night.