Before the second episode of the Philippines Graphic Literary Workshop (PGLW) concluded on March 21, we knew that we had one more thing that we can offer our bright young fellows: a starting platform for their creative endeavors. Here, we present one of their final outputs from the workshop. We also asked them to provide an artwork that they think best represents their stories. Read on.
i.
the petals fall soon after
slow and a little unbelieving,
like magma moving beneath the contours,
like fire licking air, twisting, trembling–
the water motions to the bending stalk
in one cliché movement,
and the daisies make their way to the vase.
ii.
so
maybe I don't see as clearly as I think.
in the cones of my eyes: bright white clarity—
eruption, and any more means immolation.
the space squeezes and pressurizes
my burning memories
and you worm your way into the ventricles.
the deep is at its coldest when I leave
and growing deeper.
all I see are shadows and the night is a part to play.
the windows of your car fog.
I don't believe in performance
but we are all actors here and I want
grand gestures.
later, you say
I don't believe in flowers.
iii.
I leave it motionless for visions of
ripples, the blurring of silver afterimages.
flies flit over it, breaking tension on its film.
the vase on my table remains still water,
touched as I was by the milky daisies.
on the morning people's hearts make pacts
to make space for another,
a friend hands me flowers.
Written by Kirsten Young
