Nob 22, 2016

Silver Queen

Pulled out four roots from a clump of evergreens to make two pots. It’s Ma’s plot, planted before Noam was born. Though the leaves bear traces of bugs, you may still consider them whole rather than truly chewed out.

Made the mistake of leaving the pots out in full sun. Amended this after learning both name and care: Aglaonema, low light. You’ll find the pots cooling under a shade near the door, beside some thyme and chocolate mint.

Nob 18, 2016

Cordyline

Heard my mother refer to these as Dugo ni Kristo. Dracaena might do as model for propagation, as you could note some easy  similarities in terms of leaf and stem. Soil’s wet enough for putting in cuts without pre-soaking for roots, but you’d have to put up with initial wilting.

The plant might serve for marking a plot of ginger, turmeric, or more garlic. Maybe a row of eggplant, come summer.

Cordyline could fence the yard itself. Malunggay presents another fence option, along with other contenders: Auntie’s flowers (cans are overflowing), Mother-in-law’s tongue, or Song of India.

Nob 12, 2016

Higantes

The aroma of her sentence was temporarily stayed. The outdoor husband seeks reed diffusers as “confrontation is not earned with smoky hints of her present plight,” like-minded fans said. Meanwhile, the written are afforded the right to cross and re-cross the fa├žade.

We are sorry, but we are unable to ship fragrant embers to the Philippines.

Nob 10, 2016

Homemade Cemetery

Start on the ground or start with finished
visitors that will bear upon entering
in layers rather than vertically. The more surface
crying out for air. This is your cue to stab and

Gate, a large concrete tripod with a stairway
leading to an eyeball the size of the bulk you put into
the dignity of his birth, but I do know the glory

When you cut your grass or rake up
marble pillars representing the three brown
islands: twigs, sticks, dried leaves—

Inscripted on the tomb are the words
discharged from the judgment of an offense

Not everything breaks down easily

Nob 9, 2016

M A R S

through the Lacabas


Death pure with love
Unbounds, departs, returns

The vulture sits on my
Eye

Rust in the twilight sky
That defy damp

Emancipation’s breath
The vulture stirs

Unbounds, departs, returns

To pluck out a grave fist
A god out of sight.