Disyembre sa Baguio

sa lamig ng haplos
ng kalungkutang
bumabalot sa kabuuan
ng Baguio,
naalala kita.

ikaw na kahintulad ng bulalakaw,
nagbigay ng panandaliang kinang
nagpasabog ng mabilisang liwanag at ligaya
sa aking langit.

noong Mayo,
narito tayo sa sari-saring
larawan at tuwa
ng mga ngiti at pagmamahal
sa Mine's View,
ng pag-asa at kasiyahan
sa Burnham.

ngunit ngayong Disyembre,
madilim ang himpapawid
sa katahimikan ng aking dibdib.
wala ang mga bituing tanglaw sa haba ng gabi.
wala ang awit ng libu-libong kuliglig.

hindi na rin ako naaalala ng iyong pag-ibig.

Here in Dancalan

It is all quiet here in Dancalan.
The waves seem to have stopped
stroking the beach sand,
the wind is sighing
at our torsos' glistening tan, and
the sun, hah!, he is blind to it all
sleeping perhaps, a little like us
with eyes closed, mouths full,
orifices opening, and yes...

aaahhh
there is really no sound
seeking Dancalan now.
The beach is quietly still
as it listens to our
sucking tongues sing one song
into two endangered sea shell cones.

3 April 1997
- for FRS

a serenade

as i begin to strum
the strings that is your skin
of this guitar that is your being

i slowly close my eyelids
for this solitary serenade
building up in the darkness

my mouth trembling
my tongue waiting for the rhythm
of the song i often sing

and in the hurrying tempo
of my seasoned band
watch me uncase your gleaming microphone

warming in my well-practiced hands
and hear me sing your song
silence in the wildest performance.


31 May 1994
- published by the Philippine Free Press in June 1994

A Flower Story

see your darkness move
behind the pale curtains
in your hidden cove
taste the roundness
of the smoke on his tongue
in your burned lips
hear your soul breathe
as down you slowly slip
to heaven, he said

and touch the flowers in your bed
one by one, smell, caress
capture their essense in your nakedness

for tomorrow gone he will be
while the petals rot
and turn to dust
and you wait for the curtains to sway
and again paint the crazed
craving of your flower spirit.


17 November 1993
- an earlier version of one of my poems published
by the Philippine Free Press in June 1994

Mango Island

the waves gently lick the wooden boat
as we sail to Guimaras
the wind is a lullaby in my ears
i try to close my eyes with the image of a lover fading
in the periphery,
then darkness.
then misery?

i wake up as if in a dream gasping for air
the sea waits underneath
the vessel fingers sand
Mango Island beckons.

Ligaya

nakinig ako sa awit ni ben
isang umagang hanap-hanap pa rin
ng lamig sa aking katawan
ang alaala ng aking kapusukan
at kabataan

bakit nga ba, kung kaylan
natagpuan ko'ng muli ang isang iniibig
saka ko naramdaman ang matinding hagupit
ng pag-iisa?

siya na aking minamahal
ay nasa malayo
nakikipag-usap lamang sa pamamagitan
ng mga pindot at tawag ng makina,
bihirang magpakita

mga labing tila asukal
mga matang animo'y tsokolate
mga haplos na mistulang minatamis
ngunit wala ngang init
tanging mga alaala lang
at pagbabakasakali

dapat nga bang ipagpatuloy
sabi nga ni miguel, lahat naman nasasaktan
lahat umiiyak,
lahat nalulungkot

sabi ko, ayaw ko nang mapabilang sa lahat
ako naman, puwede ba
nais ko ring lumigaya