muse

[to greens]

to poke your
funny curiosity

me?

a muse,
Greek mythology,
you know,
with apples
dangling on
my flowing hair
i'm reflected on
the pond -
his
there
narcissus
and his

muse

a bitch,
if you will

my take

thirdworld dorothy

and so i perch
on a street divider,
take off the wings,
some mess
for another day
high heels kill me
(take platforms
AWAY!)

love299645,
checked

i walk
cigarette lighted
barebreasted
crossing to be
falling in rain

not Oleanna

i went straight home
bearing in mind
limits of doing things

that was before
the simple presence
of another DNA evidence
soaked in blood
my hands got hold of,
trembling

can i stand behind
my own 'cultural' limits?

a certain repertoire
strikes you as a limit case
so uncalled for
or is it a 'perfumance'?
must be. must be.
its nauseating summon
of the spirit

tell me, Henry,
this thing should not
go to the updated list
of bibliography,
should it?
thing as disturbing?

am i losing focus again,
Henry?

a thing deciphered

sad ashes belong
to the have-nots
you're not

was i not
clairvoyant?
goosebumps,
itchiness,
80-buck therapies,
my dead laptop
preceding all
that had happened
(or perhaps i was just
a little sick)

but not unfounded

excorcism
at peace

it's a haha moment
now, is it not?

'labuhan'

sail the ashes to
the south sea,
first class ticket
look up to the sky
kites of butterfly
hankies

broken white

on my part too
two
a GREAT confidante
an advice, mine
tainted

proved to be true
when it was all
late

"you shouldn't have gone
in december"

but how exactly would
the story have
changed?

doesn't matter

just maybes

textures

on the same
leather-likeness
we put on

the glass

in a tea stall with a friend
years back
talking about emptying
my glass,
adding more tea,
sugar or bitter
Kahlil Gibran charmed
our young hearts,
inxperienced,
thirst for a stroke on
the breasts
and rampant
fire to dust
of poetry-songs
beers and rain and
the guys' hands
capable of tearing off
shirts, virginity, and
dancing with piano,
guitar, and violin
with our voices
with our bodies

then of course
broken glass incident
years, subsequently,
i couldn't read from
her eyes when they said
she wasn't virgin
therefore she was
undeserving
underselling Mary, her
bearing a child
no physical wounds
no fire for the eye
out of sight, now
out of touch
songs depleted
from our chords,
archived or just
gone

over ten years and
still in this teadrinking
business, growing old,
never trained
to be experienced
except to be more
mechanical
just let my glass
blackteastained,
keeping it away
from uncaring dust,
boredom&co.
my fingers
my palms
get in touch with
some kind of
warmth

remember

how did you remember my birthday?
she asked

one year passed
distance uncrossed
what did i forget?

i must've dropped 'em
while i was rushing
through the crowds
and city lights,
through cold winds
and browniesdesires

things i forgot
to remember your birthday,
my girl

in the fitting room

goin’ somewhere, honey?

quitting a roller-coaster after

an upset stomach, for another

no more of that Frost’s vintage

yellow wood [chuckles]

but this is contemporary

“the adventure

of a cerulean leather belt”

looking divine with chocolat

waist to waist?

curvy to straight

sweat to sweat

walk on, cat

[flutters]

fab!

is it too tight? does it look good?

teal or burned orange?

how do you feel?

the mirror may lie,

like I

walk on, cat

then, ½ modulation

to the next season