Monthly Archives: September 2006

Poem of strange affection

I.  He/She As is her style, she draws the first blood. He’s got a survival kit: He looks the other way. He has started on a very bad slope: He’s damn too deep in the rocking chair. This baby loves … Continue reading

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A notion of poetry

You get the good with the bad: You keep in the grave the soulful love.

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Dosage

So we measure our lives in coffee cups. The cubicles of our prison house stock up the hours we whittle laboriously away on chalks & blackboards for another zero-sum that stares into everyday. A new friend here or a new … Continue reading

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The visit

It’s almost natural: His boys at the forum will frisk you down, open your bags, take your snapshot for fear you could be a militant or a suicide bomber out to get the general seated at the front, like one … Continue reading

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Dry run: A poem for fans of the Rolling Stones – Sarah, Camille, Lala, Kat, Pot, Choi, Michael & Omeng

I It was, of course, bedlam. The kids couldn’t be comforted with words smelling of blood: After all, they could handle the truth. They knew the brutality of aging hands. So the irrepressible pursued the logic to the bitter end: … Continue reading

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Tragicomic

The children wanted simply to ask why? But the dogs of war were sicced on them (& the dogs, loyal to a fault, didn’t know why either)

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Reworking a poem at nineteen

The grand señor prefers his barako black Now & then, a whim of milk drop, or sugar cube &, like the regular chime of the antique clock, he goes about his act like Chaplin with a hat He stands out, … Continue reading

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