Ritwal (Para kay Babs)

Hindi sumikat ang buwan sa langit,
nagtago sa likod ng kumot ng gabi,
nakipag-taguampung sa mga gabutil na salitang
sumingaw mula sa makipot na mga siwang

ng aking kamalayan. Hinanap ko sa usok ng ulan
ang bilugang hugis ng buntis para tumiktik
ng sariwang bahay-bata – lahok sa gayumang
ipapampahid sa tigang kong tiyan – upang

gulatin lamang ng katotohanang
katabi ko na ang mapaglarong buwan,
walang belo at matiyagang naghihintay
na pawalan ko ang mga usal na hahagad sa kanya

at magsasabing, “Taya!” (Kapag gising masikip
ang siwang kaya tinatapalan ito ng mga nginangang
dahon para di maghilom.) Nag-usal ako ng dasal.
Umungol ang buwan. Sinimsim ko ang pait saka

idinura ang latak ng damong kanina pa
nginunguya. Pinalapot ko sa aking paanan
ang magkahalong laway, latak at alikabok
saka ipinahid sa likod ng magkabilang tainga.

Natigalgal ang buwan sa ritwal. Umungol
kasabay ng pag-init ng ipinahid na putik.
Hinawakan niya ang aking tiyan at lumuha
sa naramdamang pagkalam nito. “Heto

ang bilugang hugis ng buntis. Samsamin
mo ang tamis at pait ng minsan kong
pagdaplis sa maikli mong buhay.”
At doon nahati ako sa baywang

nilipad ng maiitim kong mga pakpak
habang naiwan ang kalahati ng katawan.

Cannibalism

Sa paghawak
sa armas kong pilit
binabayo
dama ko
pagkaupos ng sigarilyong hithit.
Sa pagningas ng aso
at pag-init ng laman
nararamdaman
pagkaubos ng kaluluwang said.
Bawat ulos
tumatagos
sa diwang nananaghoy.
Mga ungol dumadaloy
sa bawat hinga ng kalul’wa’t
usok na binubuga.
Bawat hampas
umaalpas
urirat.
Mga mata’y di maidilat
sa kahubarang bilad.
Humahagod.
Hininga’y inaanod.
Nalulunod sa kahibangan ng katawan:
Lamang pilit na ninakawan,
sariling katawan pinatulan.

Stigmata

Minsan kang sumuntok sa buwan
sumadya sa aking luklukan
nag-iwan ng pilat na pilit
tinago sa paningin ng mga
mahadera't usyosero.
'Di kalakihan pero maitim
nakasisira sa paningin
dahil sa harap ng marami
marumi. Kahiya-hiya.
Sugat na 'di naglangib
galis na 'di maalis.
Ngayon inaamin ko na:
ang minsan mong pagkanti
sa natutulog kong kaluluwa'y
sumundot sa pusod ng pagkatao.
Gamit mo'y salaming humiwa
sa balat kong manhid at kinakalyo,
nagbalik ng imahe ng katotohanan,
ng kahubarang pilit iniwasan.

Ang pilat mong iniwan
mukha ng tunay kong kahinaan.

- written some time in 2000 for Tina

I Said I Loved You

I said I loved you
but now I wonder
if I knew what it
meant; the loss
of you left me
broken,
unkempt, blind
in an alley of mirrors
that reflect different mes,
lost in a thousand selves,
holding on to that one
reflection that caught
a fleeting moment
of bliss on my face,
but drawn irreverently
to the corner where
broken glass flash
back pieces of an
irreparable soul;

truth untold:
I could not have loved you at all.

- written some time in 2000

Claustrophobia

What do you do at two o'clock in the morning
when everyone
in your house is asleep,
when all your friends are with your other friends
in bars
patting each other's backs
for their fast cars and silver spoons?
Whom do you call when everyone you know
has gone to their beds
happy
they have someone beside them
to kiss
and have breakfast with in the morning?
Whom do you talk to when you think
you are ready
to fall
into a mere
sub-existence
barely able to feel yourself
or hear yourself speak
or see
your reflection in the bathroom mirror?
How do you wake up from a bad dream
without
losing your sanity from realizing
that a bad dream is more sufferable than
a wretched life? How do you regain hope
stolen from the womb that bore it
or confidence
bought out by malicious capitalists
that hog fame and favor and leave
you
with canard?
How do you live to see yourself
perverted
corrupted
reduced to a
demeaned level of polishing shoes of honchos
day
after day
after day
dismissed at whim like
cheap perfume?
How do you keep yourself from
consummating
that suicide note long written in your head
when you find there is
nothing
to hold you and keep you from it?
How do you deal with conscience?
How do you keep your mother from prattling
about how your job sucks and
your appearance
never right?
How do you endure
the ceaseless playing
of that effusive
record by your deplorable neighbors
when your ears
bleed
from the steady
drumming of polka? Why can I not scream
from frustration
without passersby looking
with eyes bulging and brows twitching?
When can I take that vacation? Where do I
go
for solace?
Why does it hurt to dream?
Why does it cost to love?
When does
this migraine leave? When will sleep come
when it is the only
source of happiness
and rest
left?
When does life become?
And when
will death be gone?
How do you begin to exist beyond
imperfection?
When do I transcend finally the evil that
surrounds me
so I can live in peace
free
from judgement and prejudice
let alone
for being me and not somebody
else?
When will I be let loose
emancipated
from the superstructures upon which
this whole goddamned world is built
under which cowardly peoples
and men of half-wit
hide
so I can live
to relish my days – and my nights –
without having to feel rejected
dejected
alone?

- written some time in 2000

Taciturn

How unsaid thoughts
Tell of tales untold
Of love, of hate,
Of courage, of fear.
How gestures undisguised
Speak of feelings undescribed.
How plainly clear
What needs to be said
And obscuring the mask
That hides instead.

Oh, how much silence lets through
With the passing of minutes
Thirty and two!

- written in 1999 for Larra

Ramblings

I heard you talk about your insight
on affairs of the heart one night.
You caught my attention on-site.
Have I...?
Nah, it was the view at Kelly Heights.

I came to know a really great person
fun-loving and always in season.
For an ailing heart, you're like a potion.
Have I...?
Nah, it's out of season.

I hear your strong and reassuring voice
everything else becomes noise.
To me your voice is music of choice.
Have I...?
Nah, I'm not like most other boys.

I often catch myself looking your way.
I just caught myself the other day.
Didn't exactly know what to say.
Have I...?
Nah, not me, Jose.

I miss the smile that brings me cheer
whenever you're not near.
Now I don't want you ever to disappear.
Have I...?
Nah, unlikely, a bit queer.

I miss your punch and gentle attack
whenever I'm out on backpack.
You make me want to hurry back.
Have I...?
Nah, I don't want to turn blue and black.

I search around and look for you
and when I don't see you
I feel blue.
Have I...?
Nah, must be getting the flu.

And then one night you decided to trust me
with things you held in secrecy.
You can't imagine how much that meant to me.
Have I...?
Nah, I'm no sucker for intimacy.

I stayed on the phone with you 'til dawn
not wanting to put down the telephone.
To you I think I was drawn.
Have I...?
Nah, I've always been alone.

I guess I'll always remember
the day we dined together
when time really didn't matter.
Have I...?
Nah, but I think it's becoming clearer.

I sat beside you and wanted to stay
couldn't find a reason to go away.
I didn't want to leave you anyway.
Have I...?
Nah, it's too early to say.

I touched your feet and felt alright.
Can't remember if it was the left or the right.
I just knew then that it felt so right.
Have I...?
I don't know, maybe my head was light.

Then yesterday I saw you
with somebody else, someone I knew.
I didn't know what to make of the view.
Have you...?
Oh, how I wish it wasn't true.

I envied the hands that held you.
I envied the arms around you.
It was only then that I knew.

Yes, I have fallen for you.

- written in 1997 for Ruth