Bonsaic Verses


the emperor’s new haiku
no season word
no kigo

not sailing tonight
on my coffee cup¯
the crescent moon

dances with words¯
finding my rhyme and rhythm
barefoot in the rain

August sun¯
with Basho and Cummings
in my noosphere

reconfiguring my pond
or delettering a word

a long brisk walk
from Baclaran to Coastal¯
here’s to my heart

if you want to sign
your name on the sands of time
don’t perish the thought

make words not war¯
let the world reverberate
with lilting verbs

let the ampersands explode
punctuating peace with poetry

a kigo remains
from my sense of sight

and just this moment
a word takes off with
a breath and a hush

in every passing storm
a new genesis

bee apocalypse¯
an impending global war
between two empires

chasing buses¯
my random textimony
and rush hour poetry

radiant green¯
longing to hear
a peacock song
in my noosphere¯
wretched poet that i am
not knowing your storm

send me your thunder
to stir my lazy morn still
cocooned on my bed

hard rain¯
the crysong of a bulbul
losing its nest

Agno river¯
reclaiming again
its native demesne

after the rain¯
I long to see the blue moon
of Aquarius

and the verdant green
of ten thousand trees

in my haunting dream
looking through my mind’s eye¯

an hour-glass on the desert
and the ruins of Babel

strange two suns¯
I can sense you now
O Nibiru!

new age poetry¯
tantric or dancing
the harlem shake

one with
million people march
at Luneta Park

writing on a page
vandalizing my wall with
a hundred haiku

evening tea¯
contemplating on a word
hanging in my mind

rocking Pegasus¯
imaginary battles
with my childhood selves

in the hillock of duendes
under a tamarind tree


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