not much

I know too much about ...

too little

My parents always told me ...

to fix my own bed.

My childhood ambition ...

to turn into a migrating swallow.

My favorite memory ...

as a kid, climbing guava trees and watching people below.

Why I write ...

this is how I breathe. Really.

What I am reading/watching/listening to ...

Reading (repeatedly) Bienvenido Lumbera, Raymond Carver, Bertolt Brecht, John Berger, Jose F. Lacaba. Listening - Joey Ayala, Nina Simone, Iron and Wine, Kings of Convenience, Gorillaz, Bjork (always). Watching - the bug in my cold cup of coffee. Hi there. Cute legs you have. For real, I prefer excellent non-English language films. I see those big-budget movies a waste of money that could've been used to build schools in the so-called "Third World" (how many worlds do we have anyway?).

My first job ...

being assistant to con artists selling miracle fridge cleaning solutions to the nearly homeless. One day and I was out of there. I still have the invisible scars to prove it.

My best moment ...

finding out I wasn't allergic to Kryptonite. Now how come people always thought I was from another planet? Hang on, there are other planets!

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Death of a loved one

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Pictures and Absences

pictures off the wall
leave a different colour

a different arrangement
of things that used
to be a particular way

like these pieces
of cutlery on the table
they lay with a stillness
they never had before

a dull glint
a colder touch

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