Crest a hill in the city of pines just after an evening meal, one with an overview of another incline. It doesn’t matter if the other hill towers over the one you are on, it’s the hillside that matters.
Pick a light, one brighter than most; not the gilded glow of sodium street lights, the ones lining the main roads for traffic, nor their silvery residential counterparts, and definitely not the ones that are in motion, staying either ahead or behind the vehicles carrying them, as they all will fade and wink out, as if the world were trying to forget this part of it, as you soon shall see. Pick one that stands out, like a construction site’s floodlights, or maybe one from a steeple or belfry, one brighter than necessary.
In these cornered apartment walls
I drew a
masterpiece
a portrait of
you
painted with the brush of my fingertips
using the colors of whispered love
Your face
a canvass
my fingers brush
the corners of your eyes
pupils like rare blue pearls from Samal
nose as high as Mount Apo
your cheeks and chin
covered by freshly cut bermuda grass
lips as pink as sweet pomelos
my fingers brush
down to your neck that Talomo River envies
to the gentle hill of your Adam’s apple
down to the crevices of your clavicles
shaped like two nipa baskets
that would catch wandering kisses
In these cornered apartment walls
my masterpiece
was lost
what only remains
the imprints of suitcases on the rumpled bedsheets
the twisted bath towels in the shower rack
the unwashed plates and utensils hungrily
gulping the staccato drips from the faucet
my masterpiece
was lost
only love
remains
cracking dry in the palette
— Glyd Jun Arañes works as a professional linguist at Appen. He was a fellow at the 2010 ADDU Writers Workshop and the 2011 Davao Writers Workshop.
Remind yourself that the moon
Does not need the consent
Of the sun to make
it whole again;
You can be whole again
— KG Vitualla was born in Panabo City. He is currently taking up Enterprise Management at the University of Southeastern Philippines Tagum Mabini Campus.
Tangled bodies and bed sheets
sweaty from the sweltering heat
limbs refuse to move an inch
waiting for the slightest wind
finding comfort in discomfort
for what it’s worth
then the body clock says get up
and limbs untangle
and she becomes a she
and he becomes a he
and the sheets are now just sheets
drying up
growing cold
from the absence.
— Krizza Jan D. Ceniza is an AB Mass Communication student from the Ateneo de Davao University.
For someone who was born outside, I defined Davao City as our destination for buying school supplies and watching movies. There were no decent cinemas where I came from. When I officially moved to Davao to pursue my university degree, way back in 2000, I found myself re-defining the city in a different way.
In 2012, I decided to document the city’s center, San Pedro Street. This project was inspired by academic papers by UP Mindanao professors: one on architectural landmarks by Architect Rowena Delgado, and another on the aspect of urban decay by Roberto Alabado III. Both were published in Banwa, the Multidisciplinary Journal of UP Mindanao. Their point was that since development was sprawling outside the city, the city’s center, where most architectural landmarks were located, was in danger of becoming overlooked and at worst forgotten.
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I asked, “Is San Pedro Street overlooked?” I also pondered on what would make people think about San Pedro. Back then, I was exploring street photography and its capacity to tell stories with just a photograph. I decided to take a creative adventure.
Kindness is a kinase
that can turn the world
around with one cascade.
A humble catalyst of change,
you never reap what you sow. Give more than what you receive. It’s nothing, you say.
Your random acts are small
un-flaunted miracles. Tiny candles
in a dark room are welcome. Come and try it, you say. Strike one match
and watch this world becoming
brighter for everyone.
Kindness is a kinase.
A signal. A spark.
This year, we are embarking on a small project to interview some standout contributors to Dagmay and young Mindanao writers of note. These conversations are meant to be informal, not critical, so we can get to know the writers behind the works and about their writing process. We are kicking off this series with an interview with Genevieve Mae Aquino, who has charmed us with her ekphrastic, cerebral, and exuberant poetry. (Read Genevieve’s past works on Dagmay.) Genevieve at CCP Ani 39 launch at the CCP last Sept 23, 2016
D: Thanks for agreeing to this interview. We’d like to start off with your very unique bio. At Dagmay, we have contributors from different professions far afield from literature, but yours certainly stands out because of you work in molecular biology. Can you tell us how you came into your specialization, where you studied, and what degrees you earned?
GM: Science was something that interested me as a child. When I got a scholarship to attend the Philippine Science High School campus in Davao (PSHS-SMC), my career path was pretty much set. I got my BSc in Molecular Biology and Biotechnology from UP Diliman. My MSc in the same major field (with Genetics as minor) is from UP Los Baños. I also have a postgraduate diploma in Quantitative Genetics and Genome Analysis from the University of Edinburgh.
I currently work in UPLB as one of the core staff of the Philippine Genome Center – Program for Agriculture, Livestock, Fisheries, and Forestry. My field of specialization is bioinformatics, which is basically the use of computers to store, analyze, and visualize genetic information. (Editor’s note, March 2, 2018: after this interview was submitted for publication but before it went to press, Genevieve took on a new position with UPLB. She is now with the Office of the Vice Chancellor for Research and Extension.)
Today is the third and last day of playing with children in this covered-court-turned-evacuation-center. Did the healing movement activities help the children? How?
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“I felt like giving up on the first day. The children were unbelievably energetic and could not keep still even for a moment,” says Kim. That’s interesting because Kim didn’t show she was struggling. She and the rest of the emergency pedagogy (EP) facilitators were calm the entire time and spoke quietly. They were not fazed when the children yell, hit each other, pull hair, or shove and continued to act as loving authorities to the children. This is how they earned the children’s respect, trust and admiration.
