Highs Tomo LVII, Bilang I:

Smog loops, touching stones.
Leaping prayers pursue Heaven,
barefoot on Earth.

the northern star,
a hole through your hands;
tomorrow’s flight.

At the Amoy Lumpia House
pork / duck / oyster cake
love / lumpia

I remember triangles, my toes,
my hair, holes. Naked moons,
consumed. Memory:
we hit the water.

Lost buildings, peddlers all.

for the pubroom

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