Sheet mulching with a banana leaf base

Laid the fresh leaves around the kalamansi. Not exactly along the tree's drip line, as you should have somewhere to plant a ladder for harvesting.

Braced the sheet base with wood. Layered with carbon from dry leaves of kaimito, coconut, and the kalamansi itself. Then, nitrogen from grass clippings.

Made a smaller version around the turmeric plot. At some point, all this must benefit the lemon grass and that younger avocado.

Should sprinkle in soil to mask possible smell of rotting from the greens. Or rake in more browns. Fresh leaves from birds of paradise laid over the mulch might help, as all you need is a few sunny days and you get that burnt smell from back when they ironed clothes, resting the iron on banana leaf shreds.

Mostly rain though. Should give up the big, ruined tire from my brother (brought in by my sister) as it could brace a smaller but thicker mulch, a weed layer over which will sit fourteen inches and eleven months.

Gel Candlelight

Formulated with a rich dose of Entitled Papers and tissue-bombing, which, they said, was perpetrated by sectors to bind moisture to the “traditional” for enhanced radiance, suppleness as they add/press them on surfaces.

“We are worried this may lead to C treatments, it maximizes your daily calibration with the fall guys and Layers, the printmakers, resulting in Fine wariness of when to end a life.”

We are not reduced, transposed as sculptural detention of what smooth, bright, and youthful attack.

Ikalawang tula

Alkohol

Kumusta. Ayun, may pinanood ako. Kami. Ganoon. Sasabihin ko sana, plantsado na ba ang mga kailangang plantsado? Saan naman papunta yun? Lahat na lang ng puwede kong gawin dito, fishing. Tas kapag walang artifice, walang saysay. Hindi nga. Bawal ka raw maghugas ng kamay.

mula sa “UN day sa Kalsada”

(pakpak ng manok
unan sa baywang
sanggol na alpombra)

     _____________________________________

mababasa ito, “Sa Lilim ng Motto Stella,” “Eksenang Midlevel sa Dyip”
at marami pang ibang tula sa Bukambibig Volume 1, Issue 1: Crowds

Filipinos who fanboy Nina Simone

Someone’s hurting and not by your hand, not this time, or there. Milieu, well that they teach early on in the special places, breathable air and the lights up, you’ll need a ladder and five Jesuits just / touch. Ask me. Draw wind for it any number of ways, the M alone makes for dreamtime, but just . . . will you look at this, looking as if at six joints with alleyways and bare plumbing and a body, not as any standing for elses, as meaning’s yet another M-sort stretch, one that’s going on seven which assumes you living that long. Pronounce it any number of ways—pounce, for is that not a pop method of methods?—if you ask me, I’ll go for what bounces through all six, taking all of nine minutes, taking more. We’d still call it biting, you and I. Not any half-cake chewing. My flat where you say baby, baby, someone’s purple-crying and your pronoun, it’s “it” is it not? For all purposes, it is a noisy shape of land. Someone’s cooing, and it’s only anywhere near clear as you choke something back, get past that door.

A a a