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 […]
“Piyesta ron sa among parokya, day! Naay daghang kaon! Pwede mo maimbitar?” said a man in his early 50s drinking on the shore with younger men. I knew they were curious about my companion, a beautiful Japanese maiden. “Libre, K’ya?” I smirked. It is hard to say no to food. “O, oy! Dali! Adto ta ninyo!” I told Midori about it. She was game for it. The then-chapel by the road leading to Kawasan is now a church. And most of its surroundings are cemented.
It is six in the morning, and the siloys and tamsis are as chirpy as ever. Surprisingly, I was able to sleep soundly right before the clock reached midnight. From Traveller’s veranda, I could not hear the lapping of the waves. The water must be calm enough for a dip—a deep dip—later. Yesterday, it was my first time to meet Cebu-based travel bloggers/freedivers—Doi, Dylan, and Johnn. While I found the deep blue sea mysterious and threatening at the onset, they looked at home in it already with their fins and snorkeling gear.
Sweat trailed downward like small translucent rivers on the dancer’s darkened face, his eyes reddish, his face painted gray, his lips black, his breath ragged. His brows furrowing, he eyed the contingent in front of them. He touched the corner of his right eye lightly. By the look of it, he stopped himself from ardently rubbing it. Curiosity got the better of me, I stopped framing him in my camera, crossed the short distance, and asked “What’s the matter?” “Ang pintal man gyod,” he paused, his brows furrowing again, “di body paint. Baratuhon ni. Hapdos sa mata,” he supplied. So […]