i remember waiting tables, , , more bread? allow me to get you more butter while i make mine…
stacks never got too high, neither did dad’s.
“I’ll take you to Italy,” he used to promise, , , i saw how worldy
his eyes got, buttery, in the middle of an asphalt parking lot, 110 degrees,
i remember waiting to get out,
and i did, , , never came out with a degree, buttered my name
upon loan papers; who the fuck isn’t in debt? must be nice to eat bread…
what does a warm buttered end piece taste like?
in Italy? burro italiano. amore italiana. soldi,
waiting tables, , , in Italy maybe?
13 waiting to be 30 – supposedly i’m supposed to have
my shit together, , ,
i hate commas, and something they call ‘patience’,
there goes another one!
today, i buttered me a piece of bread
It was delicious: every word of it.
serving myself Italian-style
didn’t realize god was makin’ it rain
manna honey. manna n’ honey
shit’s better than butter
italians visit my store in sf
i speak of bay area manna to them
in Italian; non ho fame
i welcome myself to the world: the Present: where milk and honey flows with each buttered second:
manna burying my feet planted
eyes as dry as an end piece, wide open:
for me and for my dad.mmmmmmmmmmmm
last sorry. promise,
last hiccup. promise,
last loan. promise,
last bowl. promise,
last cigarette, promise,
last word. word,
last time, last time. promise … ,
last cigarette, _______,
last ,. ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,promise.
if you can think of what has never been done before, is your story done by someone else.
you lived it. the story, ah, yes! i bet you won’t have the same outline as mine.
here’s the hypo-watered down version, cliff-notes-esque to mine:
bulacan – diwa’t dwende
1990 non-immitigration trauma – stockton…
roaches, mold, asthMAMA!
lola dolores – tita myrna
near-death lessons. came outAnthony
bye bye stockton.
sf – city college – 40’s sunset-
mission, s.assaulted, h.i.,vIP
dahdee died 2012…closer to Him
health, the best in my—
today: still frigh-10’ed-ing, not pre
one inch doing, 12 miles braving
There was a woman
looked at the flame
still [kanyang] body like flame
[Siya] chanted away memories
future, past, sound
Ba Ka La
[Niya] planted in mind
glass over eyes
the flame split into–
then still like body
the flame became Ka
There was a man…
I am ready.
r aped…and I survive(d)
I am breathing, and I have beautiful love.
I made it to this day, because I’m supposed to meet tomorrow.
I am ready to live.
I am ready to live.
I am ready to LIVE…
***this was something I wrote after having a dream about my siblings and I; my father had just passed. in Tagalog, there are two words for dream: panaginip (when sleeping), and pangarap (aspirations). more and more, i believe that there are no separations between the realities of our dream-state and conscious-awake state; in essence, it is through <single/collective> consciousness that we exist. in knowing that, we can aspire to do anything, anywhere, anytime, with anyone – even with dahdee. Habbeeburday dahdee…***
i had a dream
that the four of us were talking…
ka’wa’wa, shock grinding at faces,
i look into the eyes of my brothers,
my glassiness meeting with theirs
my sister, hair over face, chin meeting
hair extending heavenward…
bulky tear-swallowing throats,
heaviness grounding our spaces
and our feet
in this dream, tacitness numbing,
and melting our parts together.
ate in boston
kuya, sa Pinas
little brother, whose not so little, in Stockton
and me, in san francisco…
Dah-dee had a pangarap
because his children were everywhere
and he, He was never here…
every road trip,
balikbayan box, kept him home,
where we all met, glassy eyes
in a dream
of his dream, to die
Where his children were born
I remember things were very different two years ago…
I was convinced that I was a victor of some sort…when in fact I was one
Then someone named “Victor” came into my life. He was the biggest bitch I’d ever met (and he became my bf)…
Through our many
perpetual hurdles together not having a job failing classes pills daily dose of fist fighting crystal meth ensakurrity victim I have learned to be very careful about what words I put out there in the universe; I have realized how powerful verbalizing (spoken/written) something is.
<Recently> I discovered that even what we process inside our minds manifests in ways we don’t realize. According to Filipino Indigenous principles, it is essential that one develops their kagandahang loob (wholeness of being), of which the root word of the adjective kagandahang means “beauty”.
Seeingseekingseeing our whole state, the power of possibility, as positive responses to any environment will createshapefulfill the visionrealities we marinate over, even before it reaches our
Victor and I will always be/are no longer together. From our relationship, I learned how to choose to put weight on the shit that will make me
I’m even getting post-racial – that’s some heavy radical shit…
MAKE EVERYPERPETUALTHOUGHT=THEREVOLUTION COUNT.
success begets success.
so if i am indeed in success, it will produce more success:
the answer to if is IS
i call this grammar play, in positive chi
circling to create a necessary function,
and right now, capital LETTERS are not necessary
you and i are affected more than you realize
the talk of capital LETTERS make my mouth water