the sound of your poetry is just perfect,
in fact more than perfect, it has the tongue of the witch in mindanao
with the lenght covering the distance between the roof and the floor
and it knows well how to tickle
the numbness of nerves in my mind
it knows how to deal with words, it is bilingual, it is piercing
it creates the labyrinths of mystery
and marvel and wonder and amazement
it know where to start
from the very ordinary handle of a kettle
to the face of the laddle to the the tails and ways of those grinning cats
looking for love on the roof that night
it has a way of making the ash so significant
from ordinariness
to the metaphysical
from the usual hello to the
surprising goodbye
giving  life from the fire that i have long forgotten
it is perfect, more than perfect
i am amazed
there are more meanings that i can attach too
under my skin
and then i am lost
to be candid, after reading them, i have convinced myself
yes i like it
not the tongue, but the words shaped by the  tongue
but i cannot really remember what was said
i have not understood what you pointed out with your hand
forgive me
but i am going to the next page
the one that speaks about love to the heart
without so much sophistication
the one that simply says: i like you let us talk.