Writing what is most important to you is hard. Publishing can be terrifying. I am consoled by the perception of poetry’s relative obscurity in this country.
… while I am slowly hearing back from submissions I’d sent out at the end of 2015, I have submitted poems to four publications this year. One in January, one in February, and two this month. So all in all, I’m not doing too bad. I’ve written 40 pages of poetry in 79 days. Word.
Haaay! Miss Philippines won Miss Universe. I was thinking about what “the universe” knows about Filipinos. Pacquiao, and now Pia. What else? Not much. My previous manuscript, Invocation to Daughters, has at its core, my concerns about Jennifer Laude, Mary Jane Veloso, Julieta Yang, Izabel Laxamana. The photographs of Xyza Cruz Bacani. Please look them up if these names are not at all familiar to you. These are Filipinos that “the universe” which Pia represents, does not know.
Hey, did I ever tell you about the time that I received a letter from a 17-year old Pinoy after I did a class visit. He told me I should smile. He asked me why I’m so damn angry. He told me I don’t get none from my husband and that must be why I’m pissed. This was before I went to grad school. I wonder what ever happened to this punk. Is he terrorizing some poor Pinay girlfriend or wife with his assholery.
Who told him it was OK to talk to people like that.
You would be pretty if you wore the right shade of lipstick. If you counted your calories. If you brushed your hair. If you stayed indoors. If you tamed that muffin top. If you weren’t such a gloomy bitch. If…