RANDOLF BUSTAMANTE:  PROFILE 

Randolf Munoz Bustamante is credited with an AB in Philosophy (Ateneo, 1991), an MA in Literature, (Ateneo, 1997) and an MA in Pastoral Ministry (Loyola School of Theology, 2000). He says his writing influences include: 
 
     "The Anvil Contemporary Philippine Poets, Marjorie Evasco, DM Reyes, Rainer Maria Rilke . 

     Aside from the influences, I read the Booker Prize novelists; NonFiction by Pico Iyer, Annie Dillard, Diane Ackerman, Barry Lopez, Gilda Cordero-Fernando; Spiritual Writing by CS Lewis, Thomas Merton, Sr. Wendy Beckett, Thomas Moore, Carlo Carretto, Henri Nouwen; Poetry/ Creative Writing Workbooks (e.g. Julia Cameron's THE ARTIST'S WAY)."  
 

"FROM ALTITUDE 29,000"
A Letter to my brother Wowie
 
From my window seat 
the sun seems nearer 
as it sits on the wing. 
Just as the glare begins 
pushing me back, the plane 
tilts at a slight angle 
and the sun jumps off 
to the blue depths. 
It is then that my eyes 
fill with the brown-black 
hills so far below 
that it is only with the inner 
eye of memory that I will see 
the greens as well. 

And so I lean back and begin 
walking home in the woods, 
the omnipresence of coconuts 
and bamboos flowing over 
to the early morning air. 
At every bend down the path 
loom the sentinel shadows 
of kaymitos and mangoes 
dwarfing banana shrubs 
in their unkempt abandon. 
The sturdy slimness of papaya 
and langka heave imperceptibly 
with the ripe desire 
of their pendulous wards. 
Keeping their distance 
the sineguelas and duhat 
call to early summer 
with bud-voices on their boughs. 
Dark watermelons nestle 
in their earthbound vines 
beyond the sleep 
of drying bushes, scorched grass. 
Closer home flowers grow 
senses in sunlight: 
wide-eyed gaze of bougainvilleas 
in burning bloom; 
white outstretch of kalachuchi 
palming the sky; 
ethereal blush of madre de cacao 
draping habits onto leafless limbs. 

The seatbelt sign overhead 
lights up, and its sound 
ushers me home where 
dewbead slides down 
ferntip to heartleaf indoors. 
The inner eye blinks, and my face 
fills the window once more 
while I begin my descent 
to the one earth bearing our wanderings 
as on the seventh day of our world's waking.  
 
 
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