Waking up alone

Alas Singko Y Medya

Nagising

Na ramdam ang yakap

Ng iyong bisig sa ‘king dibdib,

Ang init ng iyong hininga dito

Sa ‘king balikat, at ang dagan

Ng iyong hita sa ‘king hita.

Pumikit

Muli upang namnaming

Lubos itong mga pakiramdam,

Bago pa sila maglaho kasabay

Ng lamig ng umagang mula

Sa magdamag na pag-ulan.

Subalit

Bago pa dumilat ang mata’y

Naalimpungatan ang diwa upang

Ipamukha ang aking pag-iisa

Sa kalawakan ng aking kama

Tuwing ako ay gumigising.

Kay lupit nitong umaga.

phnom penh, 2008

copyright Michael P. De Guzman

Love letter

Untitled poem dedicated to no one

Waking up from a dream

Of walking with our hands

Clasped by each other and

Kissing you on a deserted

Street, I squinted against

The bright rays of morning,

Wondering what I was doing

Believing I have fallen in love

Again, even if there is no direct

Answers to my questions and

Promises for my screaming

Heart– not a simple prayer

To pacify my soul, except for,

Perhaps, your strong presence

In my life right now. And yet

Even this seems so unreal.

When I’m with you the feeling

Is like I’m underwater, dis-

Embodied– between living

And a gentle kind of dying,

Buoyed along by the currents

Generated when you’re being

Who you are. Like an eagle

I can soar to unimaginable

Heights, ecstatic, then plunge

Into the depths where no

Shaft of light dares venture

To penetrate the darkness.

My feelings are too strong,

There’s no use denying, and

All I have to do, from this cold

Morning on, is to fashion it

So that I don’t lose sight

Of myself, which is more

Important that whatever

Our future might become:

Together, or not. However,

Like all promises, this

Is easier said than done.

phnom penh, 2008

copyright Michael P. De Guzman

Notes on a scandal 2

Rigodon De Baile

Tinapos ng ilang

Maaanghang na salita

Ang ating sayaw–

Pansamantalang aliw

Sa aking pag-iisa.

Tinangka kong

Ayain ka muli sa gitna

Ngunit wala ka na–

Tumalilis nang lihim,

Iniwan akong mag-isa.

Kungsabagay,

Kung isang katulad mo

Ang laging kasama,

Sa tagal ng sayawan

Ako pa ri’y mag-isa.

At ang ating sayaw

Na nagsimula sa wala

Ay doon din mauuwi:

Kay rami ng hakbang

Tungo sa pag-iisa.

para kay Daden

phnom penh, 2008

copyright Michael P. De Guzman

Notes on a scandal

Conference Blues

In this huge gathering

Of colleagues and friends

I wondered if our paths

Would cross and ricochet

Like a bullet skidding

Across a metallic surface.

People we both know

Came up for conversations

Some I acknowledged

For afar with a friendly wave

As I pondered what to do

Should I come across you.

Mercifully, in the throng

Of colleagues and friends

The meeting I feared

Remained inside my head

And my knotted innards

Soon untangled themselves.

Still, a small part of me

Silently wished to see you,

If only to check if the sight

Of you will exert its old effect

On me, though I know that

It doesn’t really matter now.

phnom penh, 2008

copyright Michael P. De Guzman

Rendezvous

Pagtatagpo

Sa alinsangan ng hapon

Sa alikabok ng kalsada

Tayong dalawa’y sumilong

Na tila sabik sa pahinga.

Sa bagong katahimikang

Bumalot sa ating dalawa

Agad nating sinubukang

Punuin ng mga salita

Ang mga hindi nababatid

Tungkol sa ating mga buhay

Kahit may kabog ang dibdib

At kiming libog ang katawan.

Sa alinsangan ng hapon

Hanggang sa pagtatakip-silim

Tayong dalawa’y sumilong

At nagsilipan ng damdamin.

Umusal ng kahilingang

Pagkakaibiga’y mabuo

At agad sanang masundan

Ang una nating pagtatagpo.

para kay N

phnom penh, 2008

copyright Michael P. De Guzman

These imaginings

Giving Birth

At night’s end, as I think

Of our brief encounter

And what it has given me,

A poem comes rushing out

Of me, swift as an overdue

Infant, equally belligerent,

Wielding its metaphor like

A flaming sword poised over

My little agitated heart.

It is so like the child

I will never conceive, but

Will nurture, feed, and rear

For how long, before leaving

Me old, gray, and hollowed:

A husk of my old self.

Under starlight, as I think

Of children we’ll never beget,

The wife I will never become,

The poems tear themselves

Out of my mind’s womb,

Prescient, crying like mad,

Landing wetly on the blank

Sheets of paper: immortals,

At least, until I say otherwise.

It makes me wonder if all

Our union—imagined or

Wished, will ever produce are

Poems, borne out of pleasure,

Or that excruciating desire

That turns me inside out.

manila, 2003, edited phnom penh, 2008

copyright Michael P. De Guzman

The body remembers

Maraming Naaalala Ang Katawan

Pag-iisa’y di yata makakayanan;

Patuloy akong mangungulila dahil

Kay-raming naaalala ng katawan.

Ang iyong karikta’y di nasisilayan,

Kaya nakakulong sa dusa’t panimdim—

Pag-iisa’y di yata makakayanan.

Malamyos mong tinig na kinabaliwan,

Salita’t pangakong puno ng paggiliw,

Kay-raming naaalala ng katawan.

Labi mong matamis, bangong nakakintal

Sa aking isipan—sugat sa damdamin—

Pag-iisa’y di yata makakayanan.

Haplos mong nanuot sa kaibuturan,

Ngayo’y nagmumulto sa gitna ng dilim:

Kay-raming naaalala ng katawan.

Pagsasanib nati’y di ko malimutan,

Parang isang sugat na ayaw gumaling;

Pag-iisa’y di yata makakayanan,

Kay-raming naaalala ng katawan.

maynila, 2003, nirebisa sa phnom penh, 2008

copyright  Michael P. De Guzman