In Cebu, the literary scene is an odd but interesting spectrum of young and old writers. Besides the established literary cliques such as the predominantly male Bathalad Inc and its counterpart WILA (Women in Literary Arts), a loose group of young writers—the Nomads—proves that “the young, the cool, the sexy, and the hot” are not just serious about partying, but about their poetry, too. In this cosmpolitan city, a month does not pass by without an artistic endeavor going on. Cebu opened the year 2013 with a cornucopia of literary pursuits: January was for Bathalad Inc’s e-book launching, Wawart Art […]
Ho Xuan Huong | The Jackfruit I am like a jackfruit on the tree. To taste you must plug me quick, while fresh: the skin rough, the pulp thick, yes, but oh, I warn you against touching— the rich juice will gush and stain your hands *** Ho Xuan Huong | On Sharing a Husband Screw the fate that makes you share a man. One cuddles under cotton blankets; the other’s cold. Every now and then, well, maybe or maybe not. Once or twice a month, oh, it’s like nothing.
Adrienne Rich | Women My three sisters are sitting on rocks of black obsidian. For the first time, in this light, I can see who they are. My first sister is sewing her costume for the procession. She is going as the Transparent lady and all her nerves will be visible. My second sister is also sewing, at the seam over her heart which has never healed entirely,
Feather duster. Birdcage made of whispers. Tail of a black cat. I’m a child running With open scissors. My eyes are bandaged. You are a heart pounding In a dark forest. The shriek from the Ferris wheel. That’s it, bruja With arms akimbo Stamping your foot. Night at the fair. Woodwind band. Two blind pickpockets in the crowd.