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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.

Saturday, August 13, 2011



Why do I remember the feel/of underclothes on skin/at two, at three? ---From “Each Question is Always the Same Question” by Luisa A. Igloria, Via Negativa, 08-11-11  

We were young and had our hearts and heads
trapped in dreams of mansions in the sky---
we said we will get there somehow, not afraid
of taking on the wherewithals of getting there: 

How could I have stayed in that graveyard shift
relaying  news around the planet, and sowing
anger in sponge-like minds at the abbey’s
colegio de artes liberales at the peak of day? 

How could I have crawled back to put the day’s
paper to bed on dog-day afternoons, and come
home to sweat-caked sheets thereafter? All,
all in one grabbing day to eke out this dream? 

Could you ever forget the rush or feel of hastily
shorn underwear when we found ourselves
frenziedly marking time before we would rise
again to the hungry calls of earning a living? 

At two or three, underclothes were our clothes.

---Albert B. Casuga

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