Louise Glück | Penelope’s Song Little soul, little perpetually undressed one, Do now as I bid you, climb The shelf-like branches of the spruce tree; Wait at the top, attentive, like A sentry or look-out. He will be home soon; It behooves you to be Generous. You have not been completely Perfect either; with your troublesome body You have done things you shouldn’t Discuss in poems. Therefore Call out to him over the open water, over the bright Water With your dark song, with your grasping, Unnatural song—passionate, Like Maria Callas. Who Wouldn’t want you? Whose most demonic appetite Could […]
“Daghan lagig basura sa ubos,” I tried to sound as friendly as I could to the entrance fee collector upon handing out a twenty-peso bill. Disposals were discarded in the river and found their way between boulders. No trash cans or sacks in sight. In many cases, the LGU never wavers in collecting entrance fees without delivering the service. “Naa diay,
Samar and Biliran should have christened my 2013. But with the arrival of a ball of white fur named Mango two days before my supposed trip, I canceled it to supervise her in my small place, to make her feel at home. It is amazing to note that it only needs a day to homify a kitten, unlike us humans. It sometimes takes us years, even an eternity, to feel at home.
Walkers are “practitioners of the city,” for the city is made to be walked. A city is a language, a repository of possibilities, and walking is the act of speaking that language, of selecting from those possibilities. Just as language limits what can be said, architecture limits where one can walk, but the walker invents other ways to go.—Rebecca Solnit,