On Yogya: Poems longing for the city's

And if i standing on afternoons at the Tugu roundabout to the west, why there's always a rush of breath. The eyes of each pedestrian following a hue old buildings, churches, fast-food restaurants, and rows of books in the window. "Mama, look at Mr. Wibawa stood watching Ki Hajar Dewantara !"...

And if half a night in Kuncen (county who were there), our knees in front of the taper of the Sunda skillet, served a glass of Coffemix, and expense pleasantries with the old exhaust retailers. Our sweat forming rows salty snack, snack what we always eat late sunset. And, in every sunset, too late we were fighting over the bathroom crowded. "I do not want to show my bathing delayed because of a leaky faucet." We live in the same house, next stand, adjacent to the rail lined panties next friend who owned a liberal ideology.

Then when the night we were in between the rows of brass parts, then of course the night will be longer, growing solemn. "Wong Jowo... Wong Jowo..." her says beside Golek Lambangsari, a scary dance for our friend's youngest. I was crowded between the gong and kempul slendro, waiting their turn push them.



pndx'2009