a thought while driving towards dusk

[24X10]
let me burn in the afternoon fire of the saffron sky beyond billboards and electrical wire.

hands

[14X10]

the hand on my thigh is different from
the hand on her head is different from
the hand on my lips is the same as
the hand on her lips is different from
the hand on my heart is the same as
the hand at her side

it rained in boracay

[18VII10]

the ocean slicks over the
backs of unseen beasts

an invisible horde
returning to shore

driven by stippling rain
and roaring thunder

38 degrees

[06V10]
we congregate on the streets,
trying to escape from sheets
drenched in sweat and dreams

shirtless beggars
whistling for a breeze

last night, it almost rained

[29IV10]

you were so close,
i could smell you.

but you never came.

old ideas

cruel beauty
[01IV10]

the desert loathes not the barrenness that defines it nor does it pity its self-inflicted solitude.

but cruel beauty dreams, sometimes, on its bed of sand roses, of a fecundity that shatters the diamond-sharp silence blowing over its dunes.

like a nubian queen, it drinks from an oasis
whose illusory abundance soon grows tiring.

and so the desert wakes with sated lips dry and cracked, embracing its own arrogance like a lover.
___

somnolent seas
[01IV10]

i want to see you when your somnolent seas
are roused by the habagat wind,
and roiling thunderclouds hide a sand-scratched sun

enough of your placid submission,
give me your undisonant violence at its loudest
then let me have the pleasure of taming your tempest

sauteing in the sun

[09I10]

we spend afternoons sauteing in the sun:
marinating in human juices, skin crisping until golden brown

under a salmon-pink sky, violet-gilled and veined with light,
we breathe in dreams and await the rising of blue moons