sober in ilocos

my gaze fades

to the far north

of the patapat viaduct

as i inhale the monsoon

that propels

the windmills of bangui

the heat intensifies

and dries the sweat

that clouds the eyes

.

.

castles made of sand

are swept by subtle waves

along the beach of pagudpud

the sand dunes of paoay

bury the memories

that once was

hid by dusts of time

like “the parisian life”

found and forgotten anew

the kapurpurawan rock formation stands

tall, I rise from the sinking

belltower of laoag

led by the potter’s hand

at pagburnayan, and quenched

by the waters of kabigan falls

beyond the horizon

at the lighthouse of cape bojeador

i watch for the maiden  at sea

waiting for the breaking of dawn . . . .

                     . . . .  and the days . . . .

                                                                 . . . .  and nights . . . . . .

that come after

.

.

.

to keep me company

Advertisements