Shot glass poetry 3

Napagtanto Kagabi

Larawan ka ng ligayang

Di mapapalubog

Tuwing ika’y gumagalaw

Sa saliw ng tugtog,

Tuwing ika’y humalakhak

Sa buwan na bilog.

Nawa’y lagi kang ganito

Araw man o gabi

Dahil nasilip ang lalim

Ng iyong pighati,

Dahil nabatid ang lihim

Sa likod ng ngiti.

Mabato ang mga daan

Tungo sa ligaya

Mahirap ang paglalakbay

Pag laging mag-isa,

Ngunit maraming karamay

Kahit mukhang wala.

muli, kay King

phnom penh, 2008

copyright Michael P. De Guzman

Shot glass poetry 2

Flight of the Neurons

or, seeing the universe in a bottle of whiskey

I could tell by the way

Your smile bloomed on your face,

By the weight of your arm

As it landed on my right shoulder,

By the way your words

Flowed like water out of your mouth,

That you were inebriated.

And the only way for me

To accept and return that smile,

For me to let you invade

My well-guarded personal space,

For me to comprehend and

Engage in this dizzying discussion,

Was to be in the same state.

So in this night it came to pass

That between us the bottle got

Passed, its contents poured

Into squat glasses with cubes

Of ice, the whiskey sparkling

At the precise moment when

Brain cells turned into stars.

again, for King

phnom penh, 2008

copyright Michael P. De Guzman

Shot glass poetry

Usapang Lasing

Nang lumalim ang gabi kasabay

Ng ating kalasingan, natagpuan

Ko bigla na tayo’y nagtutunggali

Kahit di batid kung ano ba talaga

Ang pinaglalabanan, tumaas

Ang mga boses, nagsalimbayan

Ang mga opinyon na tila kidlat

Na gumuguhit sa kalangitang

Binabagyo, naghalo ang tatlong

Wika sa pag-ikot nitong usapan–

Hanggang sa kusang nahinto

Ang palitan ng salita at ikaw ay

Natahimik, waring nalukuban

Ng walang hanggang pagod.

Hatid ng umaga ang pagkalimot,

Dahil nang muli kang makita’y

Nagbalik ang palitan ng ngiti’t

Mga biruan, at ang karugtong

Ng ating tunggalia’y sasapit uli

Marahil sa pagsayad ng alak

Sa sikmura at sa pag-akyat

Ng mga espiritu sa ating utak.

para kay King

phnom penh, 2008

copyright Michael P. De Guzman

Son of a beach

Cocktail

I wanted Sex on the Beach

But I was told they didn’t have it–

I told the barman maybe he just

Didn’t know how to make it;

So he poured me some vodka

And watched me with eyes that

Sparkled like ice until the world

Seemed to spin around me;

When the music switched moods

He took my hands and spun me

Gently, and we quietly headed

Towards the sand, hand-in-hand,

Where, in the dark, he showed me

How he made the best-ever

Sex on the beach.

sihanoukville, 2008

copyright Michael P. De Guzman

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