Bihagin ang sarili sa pag-iisa. Paligiran
ng mga bambang, dingding, ladrilyo,
toresilya, kanyon, bubong. Tibagin
ang dayuhan bago makabangon. Bawat
hakbang papaloob panibagong
patibong. Sa paghila ng sangkalan
ilang bintanang titiklop. Bawat imik
ng tao po, walang nagpapapasok. May dupikal
subalit walang insensong umuusok. Walang
dalangin kundi alikabok. Kabayong umiiskape,
nakataparoro, bakal na lumalagatok. May hukay
subalit walang katabing lapida o puntod.
Ligtas dito sa hindi makitang lungsod.
12 Marso 2015
Katipunan, Lungsod Quezon
The cork bobs on the harbor
shore, foam forming from its path
hitting the seawall. A kid picks
it up, curious whether a bottle
is now submerged with its message
or a father now drowns deep
in his drunkenness, spilling wine, homesick
for another long, long year.
Everything is current
affairs: palm leaves
dry up as Ash
winds that fan the fire
coming from the Eastern
Pacific, the undying
bickering of competition.
The height of green moss on gray
walls: a history of a coastal
city that insists being here
even when gone, washed
dirty with sand almost alive
writing temporary obituaries
when newspapers become useless.
(8) There is a loneliness of holding
own hands because they do
not superpose. (7) The first step is
always to subscribe, not follow. (11) Acceptance
comes before a program. (12) Detecting heartbeats
is not the same as watching a green line animate.
(1) The truth of tiling lies
in asymmetry more than
tessellation. (6) The outfit
of the day is an exercise
in permutation. (4) The word
chiral is derived from
the Greek word for hands. (9) Nobody
questioned the fidelity
of pedestrian surveillance. (2) Names
afford homonyms, guess whose order
is complete. (5) The QR code must
accommodate more meaning through
more pixelation. (10) Provinces
competing for the best version
of a dish work towards making it
common. (3) Never wondered if
Hallmark had standard greeting
procedures until now.
25 January – 11 February 2015
Loyola Heights, Katipunan, Quezon City
The noose hangs on the rusted hook
as the people point to an angel falling
up to the ceiling, three-point lights dimming
until the line draws taut with music
called applause, another finale scored with knives
spelling my name in bright, red lights, love,
life and death, how am I supposed to disappear
when the curtains have long deigned to close
Nicko Reginio Caluya
9 February 2015
ang bawat hanay ng ilaw-
ang halinghing ng elisi
ng eroplanong palapag
sa mainit na patakbuhan.
Malapit nang umambon
ng grasya sa lupaing ito.
Sa pagluwal ng mga alay
abuhing neblina ang dumumog.
28 Hulyo 2013 – 25 Enero 2015
Bonifacio Global City, Lungsod Taguig
Katipunan, Lungsod Quezon
Details now matter: what bus did you ride today, how long did it take you to go to work, who are your seatmates (who is trying to sleep while you stare at them, vice-versa), how many tickets were given to you and what colors (but will never matter with a ticket from a printer because it will always be white), how often does one see airplanes pierce through cumulus clouds or the early morning blanket of smog, how many hours were you asleep last night, how many minutes can you keep being the seatmate who isn’t sleeping, especially knowing how long it takes for the bus to exit the Skyway, now measured in terms of the album that you have just illegally downloaded but promised yourself to buy it off your salary with a big chunk of income tax taken away automatically, what cannot be heard from the bickering siblings on the other aisle, what were the promises whispered from one lover to another, how many ounces of care do you pour over to these people, how much caffeine and/or sugar have you consumed just to keep your eyes wide open during a day job, what did you do in between stopping this post for a draft and continuing a whole damn year after, what happens during an imaginary exile at 21, how it mattered only to you
22 January 2014 – 9 January 2015
future self & past self
Bonifacio Global City, Taguig
Katipunan, Quezon City
who oppose our
balloons of thought.
What makes up holes
but entry points
drawn to turn & blur
into lines? Divide
Every space reclaim.
Silence had a shape
the second a breath
blows one final.