sparrow songs: a haibun

When I was a child, our rusted roof is usually dotted with sparrows looking for leftover rice. Hop. Hop. Hopping every morning. Singing to the tune of my mother's waking up pots. We are pardoned from the persimmon leaves of fall. The spooky skeletons of winter. However, our pockets are filled with flood that knocks,… Continue reading sparrow songs: a haibun

our Christmas lights

Made of wood - old unnamedwood - our tiny home. Fragilein the surface. Look beneath.After a minimum of 20 typhoons per year, it's still proud after acouple of decades. Unlikethe tamarind tree, the acacia,the guava, the hibiscus, thebanana. September is clothe in blinking little lights. The countdown forthe manger starts. It is a season of… Continue reading our Christmas lights

my teeth are missing

once we hear the rustlesof plastic bag, the heavy footsteps of my dad tired from a day-long toil, we know it's here. the treat we call Indian mangoes. Kings ofPhilippines summer (inhouses where cheaper varieties were considered best) dressed in grass-greenits flesh more honey than vinegar. if you're luckyat its center you may getyour own… Continue reading my teeth are missing

little girls with chocolate cake feet

A two-minute quick sprint out of a wooden house with wiggling eight-step stairs ("our" because we live there, but is not really ours at all) and I and my two sisters are out of reach of our mom's arms carrying the fourth young mouth of the family. Under a soft-roast summer noon, bare feet and little… Continue reading little girls with chocolate cake feet