May iniisip ka?
Ayaw kong sabihin. Baka magkatotoo.
Dahil makulit ka
Kilala kita. Oo, ikaw 'yun: Nagkasalubong na tayo minsan, sa LRT, sa Gotohan, sa kanto ng Aurora at Katipunan. Nagkatinginan tayo. Hindi mo ako kinausap, pero alam ko, nakilala mo rin ako. Kaya ka narito, di ba? Para sabihing, Oo, oo, ikaw nga 'yun. Naaalala kita.
na, mula noong 24 Enero, 2006, ang nakitambay dito
ano'ng gagawin mo kapag mainit, ganitong kainit?
Friday, April 14, 2006
E di magpopost ng tula ng may tula. 'Yung mahaba. Ganitong kahaba:
Thin Air Robert Hass
What if I did not mention death to get started or how love fails in our well-meaning hands or what my parents in the innocence of their malice toward each other did to me. What if I let the light pour down on the mountain meadow, mule ears dry already in the August heat, and the sweet heavy scent of sage rising into it, marrying what light it can, a wartime marriage, summer is brief in these mountains, the ticker-tape parade of snow will bury it in no time, in the excess the world gives up there, and down here, you want snow? you think you have seen infinity watching the sky shuffle the pink cards of thirty thousand flamingoes on the Sengereti Plain? this is my blush, she said, turning toward you, eyes downcast demurely, a small smile playing at her mouth, playing what? house, playing I am the sister and author of your sorrow, playing the Lord God loves the green earth and I am a nun of his Visitations, you want snow, I'll give you snow, she said, this is my flamingoes-in-migration blush. Winter will bury it. You had better sleep through that cold, or sleep in a solitary bed in a city where the stone glistens darkly in the morning rain, you are allowed a comforter, silky in texture though it must be blue, and you can listen to music in the morning, the notes nervous as light reflected in a fountain, and you can drink your one cup of fragrant tea and rinse the cup and sweep the room and the sadness you are fighting off while the gulls' calls beat about the church towers out the window and you smell the salt smell of the sea is the dream you don't remember of the meadow sleeping under fifteen feet of snow though you half recall the tracks of some midsized animal, a small fox or a large hare, and the deadly silence, and the blinded-eye gray of the winter sky: it is sleeping, the meadow, don't wake it. You have to go to the bottom of the raveling. The surgical pan, and the pump, and the bits of life that didn't take floating in the smell of alcohol, or the old man in the bed spitting up black blood like milk of the other world, or the way middle-aged women from poorer countries are the ones who clean up after and throw the underwear away. Hang on to the luxury of the way she used to turn to you, don't abandon it, summer is short, no one ever told you differently, this is a good parade, this is the small hotel, the boathouse on the dock, and the moon thin, just silvering above the pines, and you are starting to sweat now, having turned north out of the meadow and begun the ascent up granite and through buckthorn to the falls. There is a fine film on your warm skin that you notice. You are water, light and water and thin air and you're breathing deeply now-- a little dead marmot like a rag of auburn hair swarms with ants beside the trail-- and you can hear the rush of water in the distance as it takes its leap into the air and falls. In the winter city she is walking toward you or away from you, the fog condensing and dripping from the parapets of old apartments and from the memory of intimate garments that dried on the balcony in summer, even in the spring. Do you understand? You can brew your one cup of tea and you can drink it, the leaves were grown in Ceylon, the plump young man who packed them was impatient, he is waiting for news of a scholarship to Utrecht, he is pretty sure he will rot in this lousy place if he doesn't get it, and you can savor the last sip, rinse the cup, and put it on the shelf, and then you go outside or you sit down at the desk. You go into yourself, the sage scent rising in the heat.