The Black Moor

Fiction by | October 7, 2007

“So how’s everything?”

If only one could establish a pattern from its movements, he could perhaps assume that it is perfecting a complicated terpsichorean sequence. “Mmm… Okay.”

“Well, I will just tell the guys you’re coming home during the sem break. Perhaps you will have news to tell by then.”

The black fish in the bowl moved to the right wagging its tail as if calling attention to its translucence. “What? Ah, yah, sure…bye.”

It hurled upwards. Its mouth formed a small “o” while meeting these brownish crumbs its owner, the eldest son of the landlady, was sprinkling into the bowl.

Continue reading The Black Moor

Yang Agta / The Giant

Folklore by | October 7, 2007

Narrated by Patrocinio Lemente , 48 years old, Bangaga, Davao Oriental

Awon adlaw na ako yakadto sang suba dapit sang kawakatan. Yamunit ako ng daro-daro mga alas dos ng dum da. Pagpamunit ko ng daro-daro sang isa isa ka oras yatinga ako yawa ing kanak mga timaan. Doon tungod ng kyahuna-hunaan ing Ginoo. Yanguros ako tapos kalit ko kit-an ing agta. Mga siete ing kataas, mahaba ing buhok, bagas na mapuwa ing mata, tapos yagahinukot. Pagtanaw ko sang awog iyan ing baroto, yusakay dayon ako wa da ako lingi, yudiretso lang ako pagtabok sang awog. Gikan sidto di da ako mag-kadto sang suba.

Continue reading Yang Agta / The Giant

Yang Itlog / The Egg

Folklore by | October 7, 2007

Narrated in Mandaya by Lucia Minglana, 83 years old, Baganga, Davao Oriental

Awon mag-asawa na yaminyo ng diyes ka tuig way anak. Pagkuan yangayo silan ng anak sang ginoo. Pagkautaw ing yautaw kay itlog. Ibutang nilan sang lundan ing itlog kay yasawaing silan nangasa itlog ing ihatag. Duon yutogpa yang agila gikan sang mataasay na butay. Ida naan yang itlog sang bukid. Pag- alindu doon yahimo na otaw yang itlog. Gwapahay na bubay.

Duon awon anak ng hari yaniro ng langgam pagkatimprano. Yakaabot yaan nganidto na lugar. Ihangad ng prisipe yang bubay doon kyagustohan man naan. Doon laong ng hari, ‘Tuntuni ako ng buhok mo’ kay ibaton man ng agia yang bubay ngadto taas. Doon yukadto silan ngadto taas apil ing agila. “Daha ing ama mo na hari para pag-istoryahan ta yag kamayo kasal” laong ng agila. Ikadtuhan dayon ng prinsipe yang hari. Iistoryahan naan yang ama naan. Yukadto dayon silan ng kanaan ama. Ipyag-istoryahan dayon nilan ing kasal.

Pagkasal yang agila yutambong. Iimbitar tanan. Duon yagtiyab da ing hari. Iistorya naan yang kaagi ng ya0asawa ng anak naan. Doun pagkadungog sidtong mag-asawa yagdumdom silan kay silan da sa ing awon anak na itlog. Yaghankupan yang mag-asawa. Kita da sa laong ing yanganak ng itlog. Pagkasayod ng hari ipatibo dayon silan sang kanaan palasyo. Idto da agaw silan maghuya.

Continue reading Yang Itlog / The Egg

a new york poem

Poetry by | September 30, 2007

ten minutes before mass
you slip through the church doors
wrapped with time

you watch the sermon drone on
lifting its message
heavy with guilt
towards the blue
eggshell-painted arches
pillars pointing long white fingers
like stems, elongating
the shadows behind you

you bow your head
and close your eyes
in a brief murmur of amens
golden censers and fragrant incense
chasten your secret sins
dissolving the end of words
as your fingers trace the cross
laid bare on your withered chest

forty minutes later
you step over autumn’s dry leaves
feeling less brittle and
lighter for now.

The Bullet-Ridden Agong

Nonfiction by | September 23, 2007


By a great coincidence, the title I chose for the American overkill that occurred eighty years ago on a hill outside Jolo town matched that of the recent Tausug youth musical theatre entitled “Ang Antigong Agong.” These very creative descendants of a massacre by the American military of more than 1,000 Moros at Bud Dahu recreated symbolically through the search for the antique agong the agony and psychological black-out still lurking in the Moro soul.

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Heaven is Just Beyond the Cathedral Window

Poetry by | September 23, 2007

Half way between
one corner to the next
the soul walks right through neon

lighted city traffic
across the space where the doors
of the blue stained-glass cathedral opens

to walls painted
faces of innocent angels
their eyes chipped off

from age
looking vaguely at
the years passing.

Every thousand years or so
clouds gather above,

voices echo in chorus with
wind and the honk of city buses
all holy hymns, Hallelujah

Wandering their ears linger to
listen awhile then go
their busy ways to the beat of jazz

Beyond the cathedral window
one surely knows
Heaven is in there.

Kon Mahibalik pa Ako sa Pagkabata

Poetry by | September 23, 2007

Kon ipatuyok pagbalik ang taknaan sa kinabuhi
Ang katigulangon mosugod sa laing pagkabata
Sagopon ko na gayod nangataligam-ang mga hiyas.

Unya ampingan ko ang kahimsog sa panglawas
Magtungha nga madupoton aron silid makab-ot
Himoong dugokan sa haruhayng pagpakabuhi.

Kon kining kahimungawong midan-ag pa kaniadto
Sayo unta kong nakat-on sa bili sa buhat ug pagdaginot
Wala gyod ing mailiw sa pagpatighulog sa kahaponon.

Apan ngano bang naulahi kining kabasolanan
Wala unta ko magpasagad sa mga bisyo–
Sigarilyo, alak, hugoyhugoy sa kahilayan.

Sanglit tawo di na man gyod mahibalik sa pagkabata
Sa mga bag-ong subol sa henerasyon ko na lang ipasilsil
Ang leksiyon sa akong mga pagpasagad ug kasaypanan!