Chapter 14 - CARAGA

TRAHEDYA NG ISANG BIRHEN
by Genevieve Asenjo
walang dugong
umagos sa aking
mga hita sa unang gabi
ng kanyang paglusob.

umalingawngaw sabay
sa kanyang paglusong-
ahon ang mga hiyaw
ko't daing: sakit, hapdi,
pamamaga
ngunit nilunod ng kanyang
pagdududa ang kabanalan
ng aking kawalang-malay,
ala-Othello siyang naging taga-
hukom ng aking pagkababae:
birhen o puta?

walang dugong
umagos mula
sa aking hita.
lumabas ito sa bunganga
ko't sumalo sa nanunuyong
mga pawis at luha.

praevalet illicita
by Karen Pioquinto
perhaps, it now comes to me,
that was the attraction of it.
the off-kiltered sense of predestiny
that circled this chipped idea 
made whole by cups of adventure
we offered each other those few fleeting times.
it is likely that the keenness
was heightened by favors filched
from trusted confidants
and by the lightheadedness
that comes from defiance.
 
the likelihood made me cringe--
now, only pinpricks remain.
what is no longer forbidden
quickly loses its charm.

MORE MATH POEMS
by Eileen Tupaz
 
it's a game to me
to make metaphors
out of numbers;
to substitute
one simple
 abstraction
for another;
because math
[like life]
should never be taken
so seriously
and there are more
to figures
than ever meets
the eye
 
no solution
 
my mind is a matrix
that has been reduced
into row echelon form
and proven to be
        - inconsistent

KATOL
by Anonymous
As the twisting smoke
from a mosquito coil
gives up its shape
so it can rise,
 
I threw away my spear
and put on shoes
to join my world
of gray faces.
 
In time, a formless
haze filled both
my room and my world
and they became one.
      
FIVE MATH POEMS
by Eileen Tupaz
 
 
 
i'm tired of being a zero vector
 
i'm tired of being a zero vector
with no direction
  no dimension
and no magnitude;
what i need is another element
 - but that would be
     a contradiction
of my definition
 
 soulmates
 
we are all of us
nonsingular creatures
whose identities
must be affirmed
before our inverses
can be found
 
 conformity
 
why must life
be a diagonal matrix?
where every other path
that deviates from the main
is an unacceptable
 - zero[  ]
 
we are born
as identity matrices
[nonzero][nonempty]
a subset of the complexity
 that is the universe
until fate hands us a scalar
from the twin ends of infinity
and we grow in magnitude
to become universes
        - ourselves
 
breaking point
 
a vector
is a scalar
that has been pushed
     - too far

EARTH-MAN SONG
by Evee V. Huervana
 
1. Decrescendo
 
The rhythms have been set
in the distant blast, light years past
We knew the cadence of a jerking crust
even tempos in the swell of lava underneath
harmonious undulations of liquefied iron and ore
mixed precisely in the core
the lyrics waters murmur condensing
in the atmosphere or trickling from a spring
voices of surging or ebbing seas
--pulses of the earth once converged in
     our infant soul.
 
But our pompous blast in not too-distant past
     silenced the melodies
Too many refrains about our divinity
     shattered the symphony
 
How then do we propose to trap
notes traipsing with the four winds?
Wholes in the north, halves in the south
quarters in the east or dotted quarters in the west?
There is neither clef nor rest
to guide our unmetered steps,
no flat nor sharp to fine-tune falsetto laughs
in the three-four beat. Shall we waltz
or tango with the two-four beat?
Our choreographer is a master
but his choreography muddles our gait
we lose our footing, fall flat on
     our scared faces.
 
2.Crescendo
 
We leap and run after a maestro
desperate to string in the baton of a virtuoso
notes dripping from a drying fountain 
(this attempt paints a blush on our cheeks)
Arranged in non-dissonant meters 
these fountain notes will rise to a crescendo
Or so we thought...
--before a gold-rimmed stick mangled the tune of
     our mortal song.
 
To reassemble scattered pulses of the earth,
we lay our faces, right-ears-down
prostrate upon the ground--
awaiting the hard crust's deathless groans
the storm of sand and rocks,
earth's jerks: rain upon our cheeks;
blind our eyes; stuff our ears to deafness
--we sense rhythm upon 
     our singeing skin
 
The limbs learn to waltz and tango
Melody is resurrected in our torso
Though we've run out of choreographers
     and virtuoso masters.