The time has come for their gabble to rest
And in discreet places descend into mere
Whispers. Within their houses, they will
Bow their heads as sweat trickles near
Their eyes and lips, and the bells ring
Choruses declaring the baptism of their land.
Tonight, they will sleep with dreams adorning
Their idle brows, and, before that, their lovers
Will love more passionately, their kisses
Like pan de sal rolling against their tongues. Read more »

It is in these rare seconds
When the body is stilled
By afternoon rivers like the Seine
When we momentarily look out
From the banks, come upon finest
Seine, upon a sudden space

From the tight spiral of our lives.
We are informed by shadow
Quietly fishing from a rock:
By reflections on the river wall
Of the sun busy with colors
On a canvas of late water. Read more »

The cool tropic wind soothes
as it subtly weaves its way
through moon-drenched palms
and sampaguitas.
And over to the east,
a slumbering hillside cascades
into the overwhelming arms
of the sea—its paramour.
This love child,
born of the beguiling romance
of sand and surf,
bleeds with the light
of the stars that guard
the midnight sky
and in its placid bosom Read more »

The first time we entered the city,
you said to pay attention to the stones
soaked in afternoon sun; buildings, narrow
gates, boundaries of road roofed by trees.
Their filter of green, rendering light

                  — lighter, more
supernatural than the script of breath
passing through glass or bone

       At that time, our concerns Read more »