December 29, 2008 at 6:14 pm (Dominic Alapat, Poetry)


The buildings outside

were not even stationary.

It was all in my mind.

A whirlwind would be

a nice word from some

fancy-dress show in my

school. The stage’s wood

floorboards, the people

out on the street here,

the shops, all a whirlwind

of thought, a dizziness,

an intoxication, before

this too fizzles into



– Dominic Alapat


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December 23, 2008 at 8:03 am (Dominic Alapat, Poetry)


Childhood opens like

a fruit, all is gold and

dream here. The world

is all air, sunlight and blue.

Figures that live and swallow

you whole. Spirits. Angels.

Unfortunately, death too

lurks everywhere, behind

the bench in childhood’s

garden, death that will

give a different colour to

everything, that will

change everything,

death that is making

the entry and wiping

the slate clean.


– Dominic Alapat

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