Wanes: Musuwat man ka’g story no? (You write stories, right?) Karenina: Dili. Dili nako mahuman. (No. I (always – implied here) can’t finish it.) Wanes: Hahaha, hadlok ka’s imo’ng anino? (Hahaha, afraid of your shadow?) *First saw him in a dimly lit Ang Suga office. He read one of my angry, not-so-sober bisaya poems… Continue reading Convo with Wanes
I wanna write. Detailed stories of how we’ve been. Of each word and unspoken dream. Honey, don’t you know my name? We walked the shores together, you looked into my eyes and caressed my hair. I love you so much I wanted to cry and I am thinking of you with your scent still in… Continue reading Still
I fell in love with Charles Bukowski since I read Factotum. I liked his resignation, his flawless execution of the unbearable, his candid baring of what it often unspeakable. Writing raw with the audacity of a man who has nothing to spare, Bukowski has made a name for himself – his style striking, revealing and… Continue reading An Almost Made Up Poem by Charles Bukowski
the forlorn weather cuddle a belly of nimbus giving birth to shadows, eating white skies illuminating the tombs of old emotions
When we first met, I thought: he’s gonna be gone tomorrow anyway. When we met again, I thought: I’m gonna see him for just three more times. When I said yes, I thought: well, why not? I always depend on chance, and play with whatever card’s in my deck. But I’m done with chances now.… Continue reading To M
Hopscotch Memoirs 