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 […]
There is something about the clouds. Their beauty is their fleetingness. They are “unburdened by memory of any kind” unlike us. I could remember the pile of cup noodles below the television swaying, and if they had fallen down, it would have been a signal that the waves won over the ship. Luckily, the waves were not furious enough, but they constantly reminded us with their disturbing presence. A man steadied himself on the lower rail of the ship while painting its exterior white. He was left unperturbed by our cloud imaginings on the second deck. Everything was moving—the clouds, […]
To work in a place where preparations for any city celebrations pulsate with urgency, I find it rather rewarding to see the diligence of ordinary people that are blurred in the grand celebration itself. Three nights ago, yellow-and-red banderitas started canopying the whole stretch of Gen Maxilom Avenue.
“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.