A. G. Bawang

I watch a tiny auburn ant
Make its way into my shoulders
Like some cocky rookie mountaineer
Hungry for an adventure
...

It is a very urgent radiating itch
Somewhere at the right of my back
Reached finally by my finger’s tacks
...

He turned the lights off
and pretended to grow deaf
at the nagging of the internal drum
His trembling hands began to stroke
...

Each step of your big steel toed foot
used to sound like an angry hammer at midnight.
Last night and tonight,
they were mute.
...

Sir,

They asked me
...

We
naively
squander
our
...

appetite
is
what
fuels
...

The pen thought it romantic to be sliding
At the back of this fast food receipt
As the rains gush like green ink
...

The water from the ancient plastic pipes
Gushed furiously like that minor water fall
I discovered when I took a side trek
On the second day of the Banaue tour
...

A cave is dug and is seeded

Someone comes out of it greeting
The obtrusive light with intense wailing
...

...

My name is never
Totally me

Sometimes it’s them
...

It is running with sweat suits,
Albeit barefoot, in a room
Reeking with cheap coffee
And stale take home pizza.
...

Today, you fall softly
On the multi-colored play mat.
You then gently push the guitar’s funny shadow
While your cousins dance erratically with the curtains
...

this
old
gui
tar
...

The dance of the pine needles is the first to come
Followed naturally by a flock of birds whose names
Escape him now but whose songs are incessantly in his ears
And whose paths he followed for three summers
...

You flow naturally
Like ink into paper

Scattered blot
...

Squeeze my hand
And if you’re lucky
You’ll only be soiled
With white dust
...

I’m wearing my favorite shirt today
It doesn’t go with my shoes
But that’s okay
Eagle’s swooping for their prey
...

I remember my first stick
Like I do my summer of circumcision
I had to stumble to get it
Now, I tell myself “let them wait.”
...