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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.

Monday, April 28, 2014


NAPOMO POEM #29 (04-29-14). (National Poetry Month) Here I am, a homo viator, in the twilight of his years. Where am I? At what stage of this brief, brief life do I find myself in? Is there anything else I must do? Is God done with me yet? ...Or am I hankering for yet another 


The homo viator moves on his stage,
prompted by hoarded plaudits stored
in his hungry heart: one more bow,
and he retreats behind the curtains
to await those calls for an Encore!

No calls come, the curtains fall.

The gobbling fowl’s theatre is not off
the prompt mark: preening, hamming,
posturing, he goes through the acts
lusting for audiences who might weep,
laugh, bellow, strut, and ache with him.

When the curtain falls, and fleeting
encomiums echo only in the emptied
cavern, he wonders if the season
would end when even hummingbirds
no longer wait in the theatre wings.

—Albert B. Casuga


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