|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
| Get Headlines: |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
.
|
|
|
| Vignette |
|
|
|
by Jose Jason L. Chancoco
|
|
(For a girl who looked like
the poet who jumped off
a school building)
By Jose Jason L. Chancoco
I, weightless, without knowing what.
Between the sky and me is the wind.
--Maningning C. Miclat, Testimony
She was an ancient sadness
now hemmed in a call of space
in your calm. As your palm cups
a face of verdant ouvres
seared love, verses in mourning
for war, vagrant roots. There is
a ladle of lightness in
curves that imbue ripe sheaves of
wings falling betwixt gardens
petaled with hues from distant
storms. They rake into one
wave of presence in careful
agony with lethean bights.
time borrows new eyes to weep
in awakenings of what
remains as sallow cascades
of pure art, leaving traces
that remember flashes and
specks of lightness in the
heaviness of clothes and hair.
You spill her voice in broken
summers, where fallen minstrels
croon of urns. They dive to shape
you in hymns of shadows, shades
of secrets walking within
the pockets of the sun. How
close are your fingers to her
ephemeral rebirth? Just
how much sadness can you wear
to flesh once more her naked
brightness into being? Come,
carve a starlight from a shore s
ruins, swim in a dream of
embrace and watch the errands
of waves drift her Avatar. |
.
|
|
|
|
|
|
