haven of poetry

i just love it how Mario Eric Gamalinda, a native poet and the author of Las Ruinas del Corazon, does the writing. intellectual, passionate, melancholic, deep and sensible - even these are not enough to describe how i indulge in his poetry. his web site left me open-mouthed that the only thing i had told him in a message box was, "when i read your poetry, i just can't make my imaginations behave..."

this stole my attention yesterday. how beautiful it was!


Autoportrait in Black

I was so small the angels decided

not to give me a name. I lived

all my life in obscurity, except

once, when the cypresses applauded

my bravado. I knew the language

of birds, but they still refused

to reveal the harmonies to me.

I lost not one parent, but three.

At the same moment that I learned

love, a blue thunderbolt ripped

the sky open, and I went insane.

Midway in life I traveled through

six time zones, the past, the future,

and every satellite in between.

The words bounced off my tongue,

incandescent, warm. When I died

a megaton of light tore itself

out of my bones. I became pure

particle, a spy among opposing

magisteria. I became an iris, a stone.

This consciousness so dear to me

closed like a flower. I could not

resist the beauty of nothingness.

In my place another being came

to lodge, and I moved quickly

to give it room. I don't know if this

is joy, but my absence was joyful.