Oblivisci

I've been meaning to ask
you: have you forgotten
all about us? It's been a 
lot of days, weeks, months--
oh, I can go on. Do you 
remember how you used
to prefer cutting my finger-
nails for me? You always
loved the short, cut grass better
than tall, wild grass. I never really have
figured out why. You were weird.
But I had loved you anyway. I 
remember how we always
slept in buses; we avoided
small talk almost always. On 
my sixteenth birthday, you 
cooked some eggs for me;
then when you brought it
to me, you slipped. The eggs 
fell to the earth. You frowned.
But I also had a surprise for 
you that day: I adopted a small,
black and white puppy.You
loved him so much I had to 
remind you that it was my 
birthday. So you told me that
I should name him. But you
had to name him Jon Snow.

I missed that.

Sometimes, I wonder if you've
dated more boys than the days 
Jon Snow had lived. 

Never mind. Well, I hope you
get this message one way or
another. I graduated an honoree
from this big-big college; I know
you'd be happy if we'd been 
together back then. After that,
I went to work as a manager
for this security firm in 
Ortigas. It was all new for me.
One night, I had to stay in 
my office so late. I ended up
dozing off so they fired me. No
big deal. In a few days, I got
myself another reek of a job.

I worked as this call center
agent in this logistics company.
I met someone there. She would be 
my wife. We often had dinner
since we both worked late more often 
than not. Yeah, and eventually we got
hitched. Not that many years ago. 
Well, in that continuum, as you would
always say--well in between then and now--
we had two healthy kids. Weirdly,
my wife named my first child, a boy,
Jonas. I miss that stupid puppy. So
she preferred that I name my newborn
girl. 

Well, Diana, I always did love your
name. Won't you look at her? Hey, I 
brought her here; you should be happy. 
She's four months old, Diana. Yes, don't 
worry, I'll take her here occasionally.
My little Diana might also learn to
love the short, cut grass. Yes, I will tell 
her not to sit on your headstone.

Multam Aquam

splashing    water,
no, not         water

a splash of blood 
turned my stomach.
             My blood in 
my   stomach.

I stand as a 
   witness to
horrible       things.
Things     no     man
can                    imagine.

I knew not
         what 
       I was in 
for:
I was deaf
I was blind
I was weak.
    I felt not;



A splash of blood,
        no, not blood,



splashing water
                 in my streams
interconnected
                 to my dreams.

Sol et Luna

Does anyone know
how feelings give
birth to feelings?

Or simply: how
horizons have
no endings?

More simply: how
madness, in the
blink of an eye,

turns to a rush
of tranquil;
tell me why.

Does the Moon
envy the Sun,
I wonder?

Or is it the
other way
around:

Does the Sun
covet the
lustrous

company of
a thousand
other stars

when She
is rather a
star herself?