
doldol nga panganod
asul nga langit
tin-aw nga dagat
mga bato nga
nagkahibat
patay nga kahoy
pagkamakalolooy!

usahay malibog ko ngano nga 

miabot ang amerkanong naminyo sa 
sa pamilosopiya ang tanan kuno dinhi dili baya tinood.
langgam nga kalkag na og balahibo
miulan.
KON mag-ampo na gani ang atong mga kamot,kay makita sa iyang body movements ang iyang 'freedom of movement', iyang high awareness...
resulta, iyang kontra, morag mga bulag...atubangan sa iyang presensiya...
mao ba kini ang tinood nga imong gipangita?
true to life, qoutation gikan sa usa ka conversation, sa usa ka chat?
ug tungod tingali kay grade 3 ra siya, wala na daot iyang natural brightness,sa 'yes, maam, nga education', keep quiet class, don't ask
blind
Pacquiao, sama ni Bruce Lee, iyang idol.
(idol pod nko))\thirteen years. the line at the blackcat box office is two blocks long. the punk in front of me has pink hair fashioned in liberty spikes, his get-up complete with pocket chains and converse all-stars. thirteen years. i didn’t bring enough whiskey for this line, the flask is dry and i’ve still got one more block. the girl behind me is chatting on her cell phone, relaying the play by play of the line’s progress. her voice is candy enough to warrant a choking death right here on fourteenth street. thirteen years. the blackcat is a nondescript building boasting turn of the century brickwork and boarded windows. with each step closer my adrenaline and anticipation rises. for thirteen years and the albums that span, my self-awareness has been constructed through questioning authority and partying until daybreak. for me, this show is the equivalent of a christian meeting jesus, without the disappointment. the clerk at the box office has lobe plugs the size of golf balls and a monroe piercing on the left side of her face. sweaty money in hand, ms. monroe beats me to the punch. sold out. thirteen years. walking the four blocks to my car, a punker is bootlegging an extra ticket. fifty bucks he tells me. the show cost twelve at the door. i tell him to fuck off and die slow. back at the house i pour a double and grab the bottle. out back i finish half. with the remaining half, and my cigarette cherry still burning, i turn my vinyl collection into a trash can hobo fire.
'be like water my friend, formless...if you put water in the cup, it becomes a cup....if you put it in the tea pot, it becomes the tea pot....Be water my friend'
puree one
libertine libel
limerick
mince three
sestina steamed
soliloquies
peel six
modal missive
meters
combine
vowels in
sauce pan
to simmer
bring
consonants
to a boil
add vowels to
consonants
samtang ginantang
ang magbasa ani
mavuang....
you see? did you get the foint?
madlang fefol, this is it.
sulat nga walay hunahuna.
tagam!
unsay gi enter?
WALAY TIMIK,
adunay pamaagi sa mga numero
tupad sa mga dahong laya

Gozos:
morag gamay nga rabbit
Kana ganing mosakay ka



