Alipustahin

sapilitan pinatulis
lapis sa pantasa

hihipan sa ulunan
aalisin sa tinalupan

pipilitin ipanulat
sa pinilas na pahina

alaala tatapusin:
tula, lapis, tula!

ilista, itala
tipan, tipanan

punahin sa isinulat
at talas, pupulpulan

aapulahin, papupulahin
alipustahin, alipustahin

at hinala, pustahan! sa tapunan
nila hahanapin, hihilahin

lahat: talata, tula, tala
alipin lilipunin

salita, salita, salita

2013-2017
San Pedro, Laguna
Ikoma-shi, Nara

Body Against Light

I.

Here, pornography is clean yet threadbare:
       stores tucked behind blockbuster stalls
       or on the second floor.

Expose skin smooth but blur
       private parts to noise.
       Pixels turn to clothes.

II.

Tonight, a disappearing act.
       How to feign interest
       with a couple of bodies

huddled in a steam room. Breathe
       but keep lust to yourself
       covered with a thin towel.

III.

Silence is a giant monster shadowing
       the skyscrapers. Superheroes cry
       out underground, their frames possessed

by frenzying lights. If everything not saved
       will be lost, surrender these figures
       to their own darknesses.

つづく
from ん
10 July 2017
Ikoma-shi, Nara

Four Views of Temples

I.

The perfect match
can ravage this temple
glistening in the middle
of winter. You are
the secret I
desire to keep.

II.

Love is not
falling. Look at fog.
Escaping the sharpest
leaves. Lovers wake
up on a pilgrimage
catching soft cotton
unclothing mornings.

III.

Mind beautiful pain
only when noticed.
Imagine cruelty
as thousand summers
fading the surface
of the temple
tirelessly varnished
with sweat.

IV.

Whatever is between us,
would this remain
hidden? Decide.
With one hand, nothing
springs forth. On
your other hand,
everything blooms
for me to ruin.
All I dream of
is this temple
formed by hands.
I arrange
its imaginary bouquets.

21 June 2017 / Summer Solstice
Takayama-cho, Ikoma-shi, Nara

P.S. This is such a nice break, writing.

Drowing

Tapos, nang maglaro ang mga bata,
humupa ang alikabok. Ang laro: hanapan
ng kayamanan. Walang mapa. Wala na

silang hawak na papel kundi ang guri-
guring drowing. Hanapin ang taong
kamukha nito. Lumagabog ang mga yero

at palanggana. Nagsitapon ang sabong
panlaba. Nang mainip, hinalughog
ang eskinita. Huli na ang taya. Bang-

sak! Nagkalat ang mga bakas
ng yeso sa tabing bangketa. Sa guhit,
anyong katawan, tuldok ng gintong kalawang.

Tapos nang maglaro ang mga bata

28 Pebrero 2017
Ikoma, Nara
Larawan mula kay Keith Haring

Soneto 80

O, paanong liyo ako tuwing ika’y isusulat,
gayong may makatang lalong higit ngalan mo ay hayag,
at sa pagpuri’y ginugol ang lakas n’yang lahat-lahat,
ako wari’y nauulol, bigkas ang ‘yong pagkatanyag!
Ngunit ang iyong halaga, sinlawak ng karagatan,
Tangan-tanga’y mga layag kahit hamak o palalo,
Halinang gawa’y kay hina-hina kung sa kanya’y laban,
nangangahas magpadayag dito sa kalawakan mo.
Anong kababawang tulong, ako’y ‘yong pinauunday,
Habang siya’y bumababad sa ‘yong tahimik na hilig;
O sa pagbuwag man, akong isang walang silbing lunday,
At siyang ubod ng tangkad at may dangal na butihin:

At kung siya’y magpunyagi at ako’y mapapalaboy,
Mangyaring pinakasawi: pag-ibig ko ang pagluoy.

salin mula kay Shakespeare
13 Pebrero 2017
Takayama, Nara, Japan
from A Collection I Chose Not To Give You

Arrangements

0.

My household adopted a tradition: every new year
leave quarters on every corner of the lot.
Let them rust unspent behind door hinges
on window sills with broken glass.

Fate will take care of worth
anyway. How much luck will
it cost for a piece of memory
to be lost? My exhaustion

adopted a habit: leave bills
on a pocket of today’s jeans.
Starve the next day. Keep
forgetting until sorted for laundry.

1.

Know your place. This time,
the authority was my mind. Too tired
of repeating the same name
from weeks of fever dreams.

I see my feet swinging along
with what I eat. Rice spooned out
of getting stuck in a corner. My answers
do not know where to sit on my tongue.

2.

Sad Heaven in June
mandated that your gaze
and mine do not meet
every single time.

There, the unnoticeable
attention span: were you
listening or asleep? I did
not care until something

gets out of hand. Requests
from a nervous voice, from
a nervous-looking boy. It was
raining when I closed my eyes.

3.

When I told you how I felt, it was admittance
rather than confession. I would resist.
Leave that to sinners. I would rather
admit as if I were devoted.

4.

Every morning, I look at the mirror
and brush my teeth. The taste of mint
replaces rust. Dirty mouth should not have sung
the heart out. Rinse. Avoid aches of the body.

If only fate resembles fortune in furniture. You will
stay there. This portion of the day, of your week, would be
forgettable for you. And I will be incense:
disappearing, inconspicuous, yet the scent will waft

away from you.

[28 January 2016, from A Collection I Chose Not To Give You]