Lagimlim

Nang may magawa ang mga bitwin

Month: November, 2012

Kay Em… na Malamang sa Hindi ay Hindi Mo Kilalang Ikaw Iyon (at Mas Malamang-lamang ay Hindi Mo Ito Mababasa)

Pasensya na, hah? Wala talaga akong alam sa mga ganitong bagay.

Read the rest of this entry »

Advertisements

Panibugho (Maningning Miclat)

Naunawaan ang hiwaga
sa titig mong umiiwas
kaninang umaga.
Nabasa ang talinghagang
tinago ng sansinukob.
Luminaw ang dahilan
sa nagmamadali mong pamamaalam.
Parang hindi na sasapit ang umaga
sa paninibugho sa dilim.

Buti na lang
hindi naririnig,
ang isip at kalooban
nitong himpapawid.
Hindi rin nakikiramdam
ang butiki sa dinding
sa mga dasal ng aking ligalig.

The Invention of a Word

We will arrive at a conclusion that every word ever said
or written is merely an invention. Aren’t you distraught
with this poem beginning with a conclusion? Let us start over.

If I was Adam, conclusion would be that fleeting moment
when the wind rearranges your hair across your face
and you sweep it off unaided by your hands.

I pity the people who will never even know this thing you do
so I would do the world a favor and invent the word ‘word’
just so I could make sense of these things: your hair, the wind, the sweeping.

This is the function of words: to reduce memories into mere sounds.
If you were Eve, you would probably just make conclusions
in every sense of the word — eating fruits from unnamed trees,

catching winds from unnamed mountains,
shaking off the hair across your face
without the helping grace of your hands.

And at those moments, silence is the word that begets.
Let me define for you silence: the feeling I get
when you make conclusions. Tell me then how poems

are supposed to end — with wind-swept hair, with silence, with an invention.
Perhaps with beginnings. Beginnings are conclusions
with her hair swept across her face, and the most beautiful beginnings

begin with you.

Ang Natutunan Ko Sa Buwan Tungkol Sa Pag-usad

Mula sa ating kinauupuan
nakikipaghabulan
ang mga poste ng ilaw
mga kawad ng kuryente
ang mga anino ng puno
at napag-iiwanan —

gumagalaw ang lahat
mula sa loob

liban sa akin at sa buwan.

*

Alam mo ba kung bakit hindi gumagalaw ang buwan kahit gaano pa tayo umusad? Kapag malayo ang isang bagay, kahit saan ka lumiko, lumayo, tumakas, susundan ka nito na parang isang anino.

*

Pagod na akong makipaghabulan
sa mga bagay na nagpapaiwan
at tumakas sa mga bagay
na hindi ko maiwan-iwan.

Dito sa sasakyan, ikaw at ako —
planeta at buwan, kapwa
hindi kumikilos, parehong
napag-iiwanan.

*

Napakarami pa pala nating hindi natatakasan.
Nag-iiwan pala lahat ng anino. Kahit ang buwan.

*

Pinilit kong hawakan ang mga kamay mo
at pumiglas ang iyong mga daliri sa kambiyo.

Napakalapit mo ngunit napakalayo mo pa rin.
Napakalayo mo pa rin. Napakalayo mo pa rin.

Orca (Mikael De Lara Co)

We got to the shore before dawn.
From the water’s surface

some hidden thing risked our sight,
enormous and as if on the verge

of flight. I sat by the slope of a dune
while the creature sunk and faded,

anointed by the gray water.
There is sometimes awakening,

a quickening, communion: sacrament
of sand against palm, rapture

of shimmering arc. A body, wet and half-lit.
The steady throb of two hearts,

one heavier than the other.
I am not alone, only human.