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by Arnel Banaga Salgado

for Federico Licsi Espina Jr.,  

"We poets in our youth
begin in gladness; but
thereof come in the end
despondency and madness."
- William Wordsworth

and the dream escapes
from the labyrinth of
his mind. 6:59 a.m.
he harvests words from

the vale of his imagination
on december night. 8:01 p.m. he
molds them into magnificent
crystal. I saw the glass

on his hands when the
stroke of the fire from the
acetylene tank molds
his delicate poem. the

mentals admire this polyglot
who moves the throne of
the polymath. many times his
thought wanders. millions of

light years. near alpha
centauri. his brain jumbled
when it reaches Orion,
the poet writes infinity. he

creates against the rules of
language, where a child tries
to learn. he knows mandarin,
Filipino, Spanish, English

and Ilocano. he creates crystals
from the knowledge of a tongue
and the polyglot confuses
his mind to mold the

next poem. now he lands into
strange land. unknown. the
polyglot figures out how to
learn the language of his

new home. he wants to learn
and write poetry. pica.
he eats words and the
nurse gives him none.

I have seen him danced.
jazz. the music he hears, the
people he sees give him
joy. the polyglot lives now

in eternity. imagination
becomes unbound. he cannot
create. the poet who creates
destroyed his creation.

Perhaps this is my destiny!

Manila, Philippines
January 11, 1997

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Copyright ©2023 by Arnel Bañaga Salgado, PsyD, EdD, DSc
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