workaholic’s haiku

morning without rain–
my notebook’s heavy keys tick
but the sounds don’t stick

noon without the sun–
aircon emits water ice
my room sleeps encased

night without the moon–
i grapple for crescent light
to guide my work night

Scent of ricefields

Inside a fast jeepney
driven down town of Morong,
my mind was meandering.

Until a scent of ricefields
sent by a whiff of wind
permeated my olfactory sense.

Stress it relieved
from my worn and worried mind
and to nature I got closer.

Felt like I've been away
from the hapless rice farmers
I am used to commune with.

Here's wishing
for more jeepney rides
down agricultural towns.

So that frequently
To nature I get reattached
thru the scent of farmers' fields.

Dermic Eruptions

What are these formations
that sprawled like squatters
on my skin?

They began like watery bubbles
About to burst at an instance of
the gentlest rubbing.

As days went by the tiny volcanoes
Could not keep at bay
The flame downstream.

Diaphanous lava began flowing
With the earth in pain writhing
Like being boiled without steam.

And the revolutions concluded
Volcans with black cloth shrouded
As if to mourn the death of victims.

Then torrents and nature paired
To peel off the black cloth
stuck to the rims.

The formations have gone away
But the terrain has changed
And landmarks created, big and small.

With the marks are moments
Of itchiness for remembering
A score of days, restless all in all.