Tuesday, March 20, 2007

A Blizzard of One...

snowflake fell through my window, straight from cold Scotland, where Paolo Manalo met one of my most favorite poets, Mark Strand, and was able to get him to sign a copy of The Continuous Life for me. Wasak. Maraming salamat ulit, Pao!

This came after I got myself a fully-clothed, HB signed limited edition copy of Peter Beagle's original and unedited version of the classic fantasy The Last Unicorn: The Lost Version (you remember the movie adaptation with America doing the main theme and Art Garfunkel that love song, "That's All I've Got to Say"?). Truly one of the most poignant and loveable fantasies ever written/filmed.


Long day yesterday. Had to give a talk in the arneow with Lourd for Daryll's intro to poetry class then had to rush to the Alliance Francaise's Lettera Amorosa reading in dreaded Makati (was just fortunate enough to get to hitch a ride with Sir Jimmy, otherwise I probably won't even bother (Nyaaay, Maka-katakot-ti) especially with the sudden friggin' downpour. Anyway, had to run like hell in the rain and got into Sir Jimmy's car all wet and smelling like ass). But the reading turned out great. Lotsa wine and Czech beer. Found out that this year's theme, "Lettera Amorosa" is taken from a poem by the 20th Century French poet René Char, who passed away in 1988 and whose Centenary is this year. Well, the poem's title is obviously and inexcusably not French. hehe. But it did remind me of a wonderful poem Eric Gamalinda wrote which came out in the Free Press a couple of years ago that alluded to the guy.

Swamped with final novel analyses, grades all due tomorrow. Must...get...back...to...work...


The Evening Star

Tonight, for the first time in many years,
there appeared to me again
a vision of the earth's splendor:

in the evening sky
the first star seemed
to increase in brilliance
as the earth darkened

until at last it could grow no darker.
And the light, which was the light of death,
seemed to restore to earth

its power to console. There were
no other stars. Only the one
whose name I knew

as in my other life I did her
injury: Venus,
star of the early evening,

to you I dedicate
my vision, since on this blank surface

you have cast enough light
to make my thought
visible again.

Louise Glück
Farrar, Straus and Giroux

from Poetry Daily