Artchil Daug

The fumes of the newly brewed coffee
escaped beneath the buzzing sound of my table lamp

as shadows heaved itself in the living room
...

A turtle is found moving
among the crags and boulders beside
the river that snaked through
the adjacent side of a local habitat
...

The sun was preparing to hide as hundreds
of people gathered by the beach answering the call
of their invisible alarm clocks that probably stayed silent
in their respective rooms after their masters decided to partake
...

The headphone slams into his eardrum a nail
that growls blood inch by inch towards his shallow
Sunday morning spent standing by the sidewalks
and nesting in local stores in that little city of Bais
...

To ask is not
necessarily asking

when the answers
...

The house on the hill embraced
the desert of desolation that lies beyond
the town of Pied Cow north of the Atlantean clouds
and beneath the rocks of the earth, where a camel
...

The doorknob felt the knock
that came with the pounding
of a thousand foot soldiers
who are to arrest a man
...

I found myself standing in the middle of the floor
with men caught clapping by the sound of a bell they adore
black suits, black souls they're wearing listening to a bore
while opening their mouths talking without vestige of rapport
...

The barangay,
in the country sides,
is a small satellite,
transmitting
...

They run, moving forward,
as gazelles, jumping over mountains,
past oceans of agriculture, near lakes
of suburban shacks, temporary Roman villas
...

The swinging axe, my axe, disturbed,
beneath the grim and bitter skies
of Skyrim, the orcs and elves, werewolves
and witches, the great Geralt the Witcher from
...

A RAINBOW for the murals of being!
You intimate time observers hiding in ages few!
You on the mountains, tall and short, beneath the skies of Mindanao!
You smoke belchers and environmentalists! You bigots!
...

The Moon galloped sleepy hills,
Black robe, purple and silver;
Dreams like lightning riding thrills
All in the mind, a quiver,
...

I doubt the sun will not rise tomorrow
or the moon will crawl with its mild corpus
whether we found ourselves in deep sorrow
while standing on a cliff without purpose.
...

Death in the morning,
death in the evening,
stormy death, peaceful death;
...

The art of basic reading
is achieved in fingers
that pointed the syllables
and target the sound
...

Early in the evening
in the minuscule gaze
of fainted stars, overlooking
the deserted part
...

Rosary beads are
hanging on the roadside
post, beside a cliff,
reminding people that
...

The Higaunon,
lost, in time
not knowing, time
never getting tired,
...

Procrastination,
the floating feather,
on soft air, melodic
rhythms of
...