DENNIS ANDREW S. AGUINALDO
Dennis Andrew S. Aguinaldo teaches a course called "Science and Technology
in Literature" at the Department of Humanities of the University of the Philippines
Los Baños. His fiction, poetry, and essays have appeared in the anthologies of
PEN and The Sunday Times, as well as in online journals such as The Cabinet and
Transit. He lives in faculty housing with his wife and their children.
Seizure of pedestrians
How to tiptoe and peek with my maybes
Hugging your maybes,
Without locking us in place, my dead
Drinking ginger ale with your dead;
No sugar added, what an enticing smell to them—
"They're down with it"—one whistling
A list of lights, a note re: properties.
Is able to just
Run with it.
A garland of opaque balloons,
Potato chips dancing:
Each in its allotted darkness.
What is with the greater land
Mass of the programming?
Come down to it and fashion for us
Some door chimes not trying too
Hard to draw you in, the other shadow
Was all snot, not one fart out there
Saying oh, I've not
Eaten all day, not caring how peacock a figure,
It's still a face that chews through
All the syllables of "masticating," nothing
Elegant about that.
Least of all if yours,
The quality of gush and slipperiness
At last sliding us out of age,
bronzers. Some defense gear
We've yet to ring up, or we say search
Engine now with the amount of free
Will the test (as meant) ought
Smoke into the undersides of sinks. And I squeak this with glee,
No reservations whatsoever, how semi-
Formally were we requested to worry,
Regarding each other: I over you, you over me,
Till heads do we tail.
Cocktail season, so off to overhearing
At the palace (clubs to hearts,
Episode 2): "...just our luck, we knelt
On some sort of a bleeder..."
Our key weeks they kept from us,
How newborn we slid
Back into midnight—too
Needful now of syrup.
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