war zone

my hands are
flamethrowers.

i could have fought you,
but instead i produced a
white flag
and together we painted it
red.

***

all along the international date line
flowers were blooming from miniature
window boxes.

we carefully allotted ourselves
rations
but they were devoured
by the constant
changes in time.

***

your finger
in my belly
button
as gentle as

a grenade pin

pulled out
quietly
into a place
where silence rings out
like shellshock.

texas tea

we sat in the yard all night
and set off
black fireworks.

you & me

fat sparks raining down upon us
in an oil spill of light.

gradually you turn to me,
cloaked in that thin greasy slick

and my shivering body just
disappears

a nib

dipped into the darkest ink.

gastrology

you send me a txt msg
with my horoscope in it.

it says:

with so many guns in this city,
no wonder
you’re shooting yourself in the foot.

and i believe every word.

***

there will be three more hours
of darkness
before the city lifts its head
on the morning set aside
for remembering
its softest revolution.

i brush my teeth with tea
and take a photograph out of the window.
the car horns
have already started for the day,
although it is doubtful that they ever stopped.

we hear reports that
crowds are massing
at the people power monument.
i’m drinking calamansi juice
and concentrating on the sensation
of ice rings on my tongue.

***

belt slung low
white teeth and orange shirt
i stuff chocolate cake
into your back pockets
and we walk down the middle
of the road
hand in hand
believing that we can
stop traffic.

prostitutes in ludicrous outfits
are soliciting all around us
we buy some shabu-shabu,
two bowls of halo-halo
and drink eighteen litres of water.

somewhere along the line
you notice
that i have
taken off my shoes.

tip of the tongue

we perform a valentines day vivisection

rows of red paper hearts
pour out from the sky,
dangling like messy handwriting in the thick clouds.
leaking paper blood into the gutters.

you are still humming to yourself
a body memory

it takes me a whole morning to remember
the tune

(& for that moment
i thought i had found
a soft place to fall.)

rest in peace

we'd seen cemeteries in every city in the southern hemisphere.

-i was looking for a place to take you when you die-

the smell of cremation smoke buttered my lips.

kids were singing karaoke from the tops of tombstones.
chewing american gum.
john lennon echoing from grave to grave.
and i imagined
all these people.

it was late in the afternoon
by the time we left the funeral procession.

on the way home the cab driver was playing country music.

'pass me by, if you're only passing by'
'pass me by, if you're only passing by'

i thought to myself, i might just be
developing a sense of humour.

wendy

there was some kind of tension between us. she wore cowboy boots, had remarkably good posture and i hadn't seen her for three years.

she picked her way across the cafe towards my table. i stared intently at my newspaper, pretending that i had not noticed her come in the door. this meant that when she finally sat down in the booth in front of me, i had to elaborately feign surprise at seeing her there.

"Wendy!", i exclaimed. "You look marvelous!"

Wendy said nothing. My coffee and eggs lay cold and untouched. She fiddled with the cameo brooch clipped to the collar of her blouse. She crossed her legs and then re-crossed them. It was apparent that Wendy would not be making this easy for me.

st augustine

another room with another view

postcards

i'd already lost ten days to february.

each morning, i would send you a postcard
with detailed instructions for seeing the world.

on the front
the photograph would always be the same.

on the back
i would say,

picture this:

thousands of bodies
embroiled in each other before the bay.

the street lights are neon hallucinations
coloured in by a cacophony of sound.

there is an expectation
that the couples might all
start kissing simultaneously,

although you do not see this happen.

white lanterns are raised to the sky.
in red letters they say,

'Breathe Life into your grand Expressions of Love'.


picture this:

a landscape of synthesia.
the merging of the senses

like a horizon lost between
sky and sea.

you put your arm around my waist,
forming an equator across my body.

clouds move backwards above us

the Southern Hemisphere is hot and sticky.

the Northern Hemisphere is colder than ever.

room with a view

manila truck

manila bikes

health

you traced an image
of a desperately celibate skyline
somewhere on the back of my hand.

all of these cities
we've built beneath my body
will melt like dynamite
in time.