Four Views of Temples


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


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


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


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.


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



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.


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.


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.


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.


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]


Whenever I learn, I remember
the most significant bit, a determining
value. Positive or negative?

The punched card was intended
for switches. There must be holes.
Otherwise, there is no program.

Tonight, I could not function
the same way anymore. All rooms
looked darker, the weather grieving

the same way we lost loved ones.
I thought everything was working
as if theory applies to practice.

Whenever I learn, I remember
The most significant bit: there’s nothing
right? We’re friends that’s all

there is to it?

14 February 2016

28年 10月 16日, 日




How can you blame a place for being so balanced in their weather? Here, there are plenty of open spaces: pocket gardens, parks, big paved area just for bikes, sidewalks that are as wide as the roads beside them. The cold should make you move faster and farther, and the city provides a space for it. But when you only have a choice of scorching hot and depressing flood, you have nothing but alleyways and puddles. The weekend here is different from the weekend there: a typhoon is currently ruining everyone’s plans and cancelling all flights.

All these thoughts were occupying my mind. But as I was staring behind the big mall window at the expanse outside, I saw a hill full of trees starting to color themselves like fall. It was scarred by cement stairs in the middle. There were lots of these kinds of stairs anyway. I finished lunch and headed outside. I crossed from the train station area to the foot of the stairs. I thought I will be running out of breath, but I managed to get to the topmost part. I can see the oblong shape of the terminal station roof, and hundreds and hundreds of rooftops. But instead of noise, I hear quiet, not even rustling of leaves.

At the top, I saw nothing. I thought it was a park, but beyond the colored tiles was a street surrounded by empty lots. It was a subdivision about to begin, ready for house construction. I saw how the water piping was laid out: brown ribbed PVCs looking like post-fallout earthworms digging on the ashen soil. There were also blocks of cement that looked like tunnels. I thought they were soon to be extensions of the train line, but I remembered they resemble basement parking lots of two-story houses which I always see when I pass by other subdivisions built upon a hill. I remember where our house was built. It was also on a hill, but I did not see everything else being built. I just see how the subdivision grows old: cracks and potholes on streets, humps being built and rebuilt.


Also, it feels like it’s such a privilege to walk. Below the stoplight is a button that you need to push if you want to cross. It only takes a minute or less, and all the cars on Route 163 will suddenly stop for you to walk three meters. It’s like it’s an added responsibility or burden to even own a car.

I am always thrilled to use my phone. I see my average walking and running distance shoot up every time I walk these lengths. The day after we arrived at the end of September, I saw the graph go as high as 12 kilometers. I can never do that in the ‘wide’ expanse of my previous university, that although it is actually wide, walking under humidity or impending sunburn is not such a great idea.



from ん