This Publisher's Column shall feature developments related to Filipino literature. Each monthly update also shall include a featured poet and poem. For comments and suggestions, please e-mail Meritage Press Associate Editor Jade Afable at Jade@meritagepress.com


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November's featured poet and poem is Ricardo M. de Ungria and "LRTC 1037." Ricky recently won his fifth Philippines National Book Award for his book of poetry, Waking Ice (Anvil Publishing, 2000), which he describes as recording "his last few weeks with his son who he lost to drugs and who destroyed himself in April 1998." He was appointed second Chancellor of the University of the Philippines in Mindanao in March 2000, for which his colorful investiture rites were held in September 2001 in Davao City. He is the first artist, as well as the youngest administrator, named to the position. He now makes his residence in Davao City, the "city of [his] last breath," where he helped found the Davao Writers Guild and the Samahan ng mga Guro ng Panitikan sa Dabaw (SAGUP-DABAW) in 1999. He wrote "LRTC 1037" in January this year after reading a newspaper account of a survivor of the bombing of Light Rail Transit Coach 1037 in December 2000. The explosion killed at least 15 people and wounded around 60 others.

LRTC 1037

I hear it over and over
                              BOOM! and then darkness.
                                             And everyone around me gone.
At night when I close my eyes,
my ears stay up
                    BOOM! and then darkness.
                         And everyone gone.
In the morning when I break with a fork
the fried egg on my plate
                         BOOM! it goes.
I hear it over and over.
                                And then darkness.
And suddenly
                   space-
                              smoky space,
bodies on the floor
among burst bags of groceries,
                                             warped
cellphones, and wrapped gifts
torn apart,
               -an eye
spilled out of its socket, a child's,
legs, arms missing,
                         blown off
among crushed papayas and
                                        oranges, broken
glass, and twisted metal of the train.
                                                  Blood
on the walls, blood all over, blood
among the soot dripping into
                                        pools.
I wanted to wipe it all
with a handkerchief, but
                                   the handkerchief
turned out to be the white
of my knee cut
                    open.
                            BOOM! and then darkness.
And the voices turned to moans
and crying left and right.
                                   Pain
coming to life in the emergency
I thought I was
                    dead, still
                                   sitting up.
                                                  BOOM!
I hear it over and over.
At night it is quiet
no more and darkness is full of wet
                                                  colors.
Useless to close my eyes. The shards
crammed in my eye
keep the inside of the train shined up.
                                                       BOOM! it goes
over and over.
And the vanished won't let me be
                                                  any
                                                       more.

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ASIAN AMERICAN LITERARY AWARDS:
Congratulations to Eugene Gloria and Nick Carbo for being among the recipients of The Fourth Annual Asian American Literary Awards sponsored by the Asian American Writers Workshop. The winners are:

Ha Jin, The Bridegroom (Pantheon)
Akhil Sharma, An Obedient Father (Farrar, Straus & Giroux)
Eugene Gloria, Drivers at the Short Time Motel (Penguin)
Nick Carbo, Secret Asian Man (Tia Chucha Press) -- AAWW Members' Choice Award.

For sample poems from their prize-winning manuscripts, see the Archives: March 2001 for Eugene and April 2001 for Nick.

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THE POETRY OF SIX DIRECTIONS:
As a result of the September 11, 2001 tragedy, the deadline for Eileen Tabios's multidisciplinary project, "POEMS FORM/FROM THE SIX DIRECTIONS," has been extended to January 31, 2002:

ATTENTION ALL POETS: You are cordially invited to Eileen Tabios's marriage to Poetry. RSVP by January 31, 2002 by sending a poem (no longer than one page) to PinoyPoetics@aol.com. No poem will be rejected as poems should never be rejected. All poems will become part of an installation, "Poem-Tree." See the October 2001 entry for more information about this project.

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AFTER THE FIRST BOMB:
Meritage Press is pleased to share Eric Gamalinda's poem "Abell 2218," the first poem that he wrote since the September 11, 2001 tragedy. He wrote this poem after first hearing that the United States has begun bombing Afghanistan.

ABELL 2218: INITIAL FORECASTS

Using a cluster of galaxies called Abell 2218 as a gravitational lens to refract light and magnify distances 30 times beyond the cluster, scientists have found what they believe could be the beginning of the universe.

The object gives a faint light. It lives in the beginning of time.
That is to say, it is the light from which all of us came,
it is the breath coming out of the mouth of God,
it is the Word. How else can anyone describe it
when it lives in memory that is not memory
but a place, and a place-to-be: already,
in the first convulsions of becoming,
I may be walking down a street,
I may be born, I may be
dying, a sunset would
already fill me with
longing, or would
only now be
learning to
burn; and
I? What
Am
I?

The object is small, containing no more than a million stars.
Out of these stars, it is possible only one planet would be
livable. On this planet, it is possible only two or three
continents would survive economics, politics, war.
Of these continents, perhaps a dozen nations
would rule the world. Of these nations, one
percent of the population would exploit
the rest. In spaces too small for ants
to crawl I'll hide my love, my soul.
I'll keep you there, for safety.
I'll build a shelter for your
fears. I'll be sentimental,
old-fashioned, micro-
scopic. But radiant
in the dark, my
obscure pact
with the
om.

The object is physically young. My obscure pact? I tend to believe
whatever seems likely to save me, or give me money. Today
I may be walking down the street and I will meet a saint.
I will shave my head. I will follow him to Dharamsala.
Or I may buy a paper and read about the end of
now. I dream only of mythological creatures.
I use my body to find love. I eat all the
wrong foods. I believe what I see
with my own two eyes. Fear
eats me. I have to look
for a job. I can sprint
faster than sound.
I burn forever,
I have no
end.

The light at the beginning of the world is "a mere sliver of space,"
according to scientists, and the sky, they say, must be teeming
with these timid shards. In the space it takes to unravel a star
how much room is taken by a third world war? What time
is it in Kabul? How many books can an average person
read in a lifetime? How old would I be in 1521? If
a quasar bends in the light, do cities warp in it,
cars crash, bridges sharply turn? Do words
like these get transcribed by some under-
paid clerk in the corridors of space?
Will the end of the world be
televised? & whose hand
will I hold? Memory
expands, doesn't it?
Is its light blue
or receding,
absence
slower
than
star
s?

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EKPHRASIS: POETRY/ART COLLABORATIONS

Featuring: Max Gimblett, Archie Rand, Eileen Tabios and John Yau

When: 6:30 p.m., Thursday, December 13, 2001
Where: Asia Society, 725 Park Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10021
Suggested Admissions Fee: $5
Sponsors: Asia Society and Asian American Writers Workshop

To celebrate the release of Meritage Press' first book, 100 MORE JOKES FROM THE BOOK OF THE DEAD, the two artists and two poets shall present slide presentations, poetry readings, panel discussions and audience question-and-answer opportunities. More information about John, Archie and Eileen are available in the "Meritage Press" and "ABOUT" sections of this website. More information about Max is available at www.MaxGimblett.com.

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SWEETNESS:
Meritage Press is delighted to share a poem by Jon Pineda to obviate the current tension of the times. Jon is a promising young poet whose work has appeared in the Asian Pacific American Journal, Literary Review, Poetry Northwest and Puerto del Sol, among others. The recipient of a 2000 Virginia Commission for the Arts Individual Artist fellowship in poetry, he lives in Norfolk, VA with his wife and son. Jon's poem "Matamis" (which means "Sweet") first appeared in the Literary Review's Special Issue on Filipino Writing (Spring 2000) guest-edited by Bino A. Realuyo.

MATAMIS

One summer, in Pensacola, I held an orange this way,
the flesh hiding beneath the texture of the rind,

then slipped my thumbs into its core
and folded it open, like a book.

When I held out the halves, the juice seemed to trace
the veins in my arms as it dripped down to my elbows

and darkened spots of sand. We were sitting on the beach then,
the sun, spheres of light within each piece. I remember thinking,

in Tagalog, the word matamis is sweet in English,
though I did not say it for fear of mispronouncing

the language. Instead, I finished the fruit and offered
nothing except my silence, and my father, who pried apart

another piece, breaking the globe in two, offered me half.
Meaning everything.