It is I, Light

observe me                           on bent telescopes

speed zero                             myself converges

on screen see                         from colors


the moment                              therefore theory

of no movement                       becomes obsolete for

recorded memory                     common knowledge


codes error-prone                    slowly corrodes

yet correct                                  to two modes

remote controlled                     myself (be)longs


from ん, 2015年2月6日

The Station Postpones Operation

The only things accelerating this instant: a freefalling
apple pie and its scent. The floor fogs of warmth.
Steam diffuses like how crowds surge during
rush hour. Elevators, and escalators still
like nearby turnstiles. Passengers remain
as bystanders, as if permanent installations
behind scarves and face masks, concealing
breathing. Disappointment is the same eye
tinted red by the words before them

Delayed   Human Damage Accident
Delayed   Human Damage Accident
Delayed   Human Damage Accident
Delayed   Human Damage Accident

from ん, 2015年2月2日

The Properties of Periphery

Waves rewrite territories. When the city expands
its circumference, the curves of signatures turn
to hard edges. Settlements end with approximation.

After tremors, seawalls rise, suspension bridges
the idea of subdivisions. Residing in a port town
risks loneliness. He was an isolated vertex.


What matters is to generate edges resembling a delicate web. An intersection

for at least three new corners, each sidewalk swept by brooms, tires,

a body. Unpolished bricks imprinting patterns when I sleep. A new map

to keep, lose and keep again. Marks fade with each new cardboard

box stacked folded and flat. Seasons only disappear when one adapts

to temperature. Soda fizzles to solution. How can one measure

satisfaction? Fog becomes smoke. Continue, accumulate. The city

takes care of itself, of how it is wound.

A line passing through the city’s edges
more than twice is a violation. Here was
what you have abandoned. You are foreign
only once. Depart and arrive at each
iteration of a home.

A sidewalk beggar–
Long Live The Great Emperor
of Sannomiya! 

from ん, 2015年2月1日


Window Shopping

I was right not to be
afraid of any thief
but myself: who becomes
tomorrow, the future, a dream
sequence, but my selfish
version yesterday? How come
I am not enough to earn
gazes from polished jewels,
not even the same second glance
to a rusting copper coin? I turn
myself inside a store where
a mannequin fits my silhouette,
but wearing an attire looking like
I will trade my soul to own.
Without telling me how, I am
left with my mask off, call police,
arrest me now. Just so you know
without telling me that I have
a right to remain
silent. I am anomaly.
I am fraud.
I am everything you
should keep an eye on; so for now,
you can begin as yourself
another day without fearing who
will end by leaving me

Katipunan, Quezon City
10 December 2015
3:36 AM

Stained Glass

How much pain does it take
to become immaculate? Create

immense heat from breath, surging
inside the surface glowing orange.

Immolate the heart. Hold
with sandpaper hands until

cold. When breaking, must be
as fragile as bones. Slices

of lifelessness forming limbs,
foreign face. Against resemblance

assemble without attachment. These bodies
of work are not one to own. Cry

until tears solder them whole.
When dry, blind with sunlight.

2:52 AM
from a collection