There are things bigger than me. Like husking the coconutto sip its water,hacking the shell, and scraping the meatinto strands before the third moon sets. Perhaps your oracle eye fishesin the shallows for the glimmer of a treasurechest in the waters off this Palawan...
The world is woven in a hazethinner than white,cloaking this bay of people who have finally learned to wait.An idol, eternally squatting, staresout the window of a divine sorrow. The instance between fog and rain dangles on the tip of my tongue. Such precipitation is...
He loves me, a salty woman made of sobs with knobs and handles and spigots that bob and weave salt pebble wishes drips down my face — until no more tears dissolve and my lot of wife that has looked too late, too long — fades. He’s happy for a while to while away time...
