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ALBERT B. CASUGA, a Philippine-born writer, lives in Mississauga, Ontario, Canada, where he continues to write poetry, fiction, and criticism after his retirement from teaching and serving as an elected member of his region's school board. He was nominated to the Mississauga Arts Council Literary Awards in 2007. A graduate of the Royal and Pontifical University of St. Thomas (now University of Santo Tomas, Manila. Literature and English, magna cum laude), he taught English and Literature (Criticism, Theory, and Creative Writing) at the Philippines' De La Salle University and San Beda College. He has authored books of poetry, short stories, literary theory and criticism. He has won awards for his works in Canada, the U.S.A., and the Philippines. His latest work, A Theory of Echoes and Other Poems was published February 2009 by the University of Santo Tomas Publishing House. His fiction and poetry were published by online literary journals Asia Writes and Coastal Poems recently. He was a Fellow at the 1972 Silliman University Writers Workshop, Philippines. As a journalist, he worked with the United Press International and wrote an art column for the defunct Philippines Herald.

Sunday, June 12, 2011


It would be a classic Dali: bleached carcass
limp on a branch like a wayward pancake
and a brittle bracken leaf thrown over it,
instead of melting clocks draped in a landscape
of swarming ants and a piece of Catalonia.
Would the stalking feral feline be a Kahlo
then? And the gamboling arboreal rodents
a persistent memory of an abandoned lunch
where Monet could have etched them gleaning
atop a table that has not been cleared away,
instead of his son Jean playing quietly
alone in the dappled shade where sunlight
falls and the colour sparkles? And the sodden
cat’s gravel gray fur? And the palpable tension
there? Clive Hicks-Jenkins, sipping Welsh tea,
could easily paint that in a corner of his canvas
between a raven and a firebird and let it bode
disaster for those absently unheeding squirrels.
Except that he would not. He is too gentle.
He would have those rodents dancing with the cat.
—Albert B. Casuga

Poetic Prompt: Dead bracken leaf: a sun-bleached carcass. A feral cat pads down the road undetected by squirrels, its sodden gray coat the color of gravel. ---Dave Bonta. The Morning Porch, 06-11-11

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