Along the boulevard medium
(we call it the neutral zone...
The sunset warning
to which i heed...
Silvery tangles frame
a face spun with spider threads...
My mind visited today,
imagining walking over...
And...
as a rusting boat slouched sulkily...
I've known for some time now
that writing has given me the strength...
If I could build
a wall...
If I bury my poetry
underneath Manila skies...
Contrasting colours
of nature shine equally...
What if the sky is made
of trees, the sun of white silk...
Climbed sacred mountains
swam in pools of the goddesses...
Our home is decadent in
peeling plaster...