BROWSE Columns
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Whistling thrushes and blue magpies overlooked hilly grasslands
as jewel beetles crawled near chirping cicadas and katydids.
Meadows of silvergrass swayed, glimmering plumes
that grow out of the land’s acidic layers. I trekked to glimpse
the steaming sulphur, sizzling vents that exhaled
above the windflowers, toad lilies and holly olives.
I scaled the verdant scrub to the height of low clouds,
and greenery stretched before me, coated by thick fumes
and the altitude’s atmospheric fog. Out of breath, I saw
volcanic composites wheeze among basaltic rock
as the triangle incense smouldered above the flora of Taipei.
Leaning on a railing, I peered at the igneous crater
and examined the mass of fumaroles. Hiking further,
I was tempted to touch the small, hissing sediments.
A garden of sulphur behind me, I swore that I could hear
the bellows of oxen grazing by the lava terraces.
Efren Laya Cruzada is a poet who was born in the Philippines and raised in the small town of Alice, Texas. He studied English and American Literature and Creative Writing at New York University. He is the author of Grand Flood: a poem. His poems have been published or are forthcoming in The Ekphrastic Review, Tiny Seed Literary Journal, The Tiger Moth Review, The Stardust Review, The Closed Eye Open, Discretionary Love, and others. He now resides in Austin, Texas. (efrenlayacruzada.com)
