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What Passes for Answers
Enragingly delicate, sure-footedness of expression, pulsating with incandescence, with utterances that stun. To read Mikael de Lara Co’s poetry is to enter a quiet hallway illumined by the pure light of language. Listen: “... Deprived of consonants our griefs all sound/ the same. As if from a single heart. As if throbbing against the knowledge/ of leaves.” Co declares that the task of poetry is to never run out of words. Now I am rummaging for synonyms for “envy.” Yes, I am bitter. Yes, goddamit, I am jealous.
—Lourd De Veyra
One makes claims in poetry because we have memory, history, and reason to test their weight against. In this collection of poems, Mikael de Lara Co’s first, phenomena get inspected, interrogated, and put under the lens of meditation and rigorous philosophical thought. Grit and tenderness coat Co’s lyric, guide the inflections of language and locate their gradations where they should be: between speech and song, discourse and remark, bone and skin. Where lies feeling but in our ambivalence toward it? “I want to find beauty in suffering/ I want to fail,” the poet writes. It is in Co's willingness to admit and articulate such failings that we find this book’s valor, generosity, and—ultimately—grace. That logic always finds its way into affect is, indeed, what passes for answers in a world so often devoid of them.
—Joel M. Toledo
What Passes for Answers is a book without artifice, devoid of poetic pyrotechnics and self-indulgence… a collection imbued with classical rigor, elegant construction, lyrical provocation, and thoughtful revelation that gives voice to the artist’s truth-telling imperatives.
—Manuel L. Quezon III
—Lourd De Veyra
One makes claims in poetry because we have memory, history, and reason to test their weight against. In this collection of poems, Mikael de Lara Co’s first, phenomena get inspected, interrogated, and put under the lens of meditation and rigorous philosophical thought. Grit and tenderness coat Co’s lyric, guide the inflections of language and locate their gradations where they should be: between speech and song, discourse and remark, bone and skin. Where lies feeling but in our ambivalence toward it? “I want to find beauty in suffering/ I want to fail,” the poet writes. It is in Co's willingness to admit and articulate such failings that we find this book’s valor, generosity, and—ultimately—grace. That logic always finds its way into affect is, indeed, what passes for answers in a world so often devoid of them.
—Joel M. Toledo
What Passes for Answers is a book without artifice, devoid of poetic pyrotechnics and self-indulgence… a collection imbued with classical rigor, elegant construction, lyrical provocation, and thoughtful revelation that gives voice to the artist’s truth-telling imperatives.
—Manuel L. Quezon III
- GenresPoetry
86 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2013
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41 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
July 30, 2015
Poetry is a hit or miss for me. It seems I appreciate modern poetry more in that it tries to pull at feelings rather than mainly descriptions. Parts 2 and 3 of this collection saved it for me. References to rural life is a bit difficult for me to grasp, given that I didn't have a province to call my own and have always been a city girl. I love how poetry lines emit a feeling of silence, draws at your heartstrings just enough to make it throb.
January 16, 2016
Brave in its straightforwardness, language comes fluidly lapping around the reader in the solitude of his/her reading of this first collection of poems from Mikael de Lara Co. His poetry braves what is difficult to know, difficult to articulate, with a calm and candid attitude without losing the cadence of its words. Indeed, the poems refuse to turn away, as de Lara Co inspects what passes to us for answers.
As Courage, to Camus
Because I cannot be held, let me
tell you that I am a rock, mythical
and heavy and unyielding to wind
and time and all things that speak
of erosion. I am the midsummer heat
saying, Look, Albert, that bird has faded
into song, the song has faded into memory,
memory has faded into you and you
have faded into memory, mine.
And we will fade as the bird has.
What need for me, then, a word
hollow as the hiss from a gun's barrel?
My brothers call to me
from their graves, and what does it matter?
Look, Albert, that star has died
lifetimes ago and yet it burns still.
Look, another bird is streaking
across the sky, another sky
unmindful of the many words for sky
that have died. Look. Let me stay
here some more under this vast gray waiting.
Let me keep my eyes open.
I mean, let me mean
myself for a while.
As Courage, to Camus
Because I cannot be held, let me
tell you that I am a rock, mythical
and heavy and unyielding to wind
and time and all things that speak
of erosion. I am the midsummer heat
saying, Look, Albert, that bird has faded
into song, the song has faded into memory,
memory has faded into you and you
have faded into memory, mine.
And we will fade as the bird has.
What need for me, then, a word
hollow as the hiss from a gun's barrel?
My brothers call to me
from their graves, and what does it matter?
Look, Albert, that star has died
lifetimes ago and yet it burns still.
Look, another bird is streaking
across the sky, another sky
unmindful of the many words for sky
that have died. Look. Let me stay
here some more under this vast gray waiting.
Let me keep my eyes open.
I mean, let me mean
myself for a while.
Read
December 7, 2014What passes for answers is a book of poetry, conceived in the mind of a poet, held in the mind of a reader. It is a quiet type of book, and the answers are withheld by careful writing.
Full review: http://booktrek.blogspot.com/2014/09/...
Full review: http://booktrek.blogspot.com/2014/09/...
June 10, 2021
"Let me tell you about longing.
Let me presume that I have something
new to say about it, that this room,
naked, its walls pining for clocks,
has something new to say
about absence."
It was with those lines that I was introduced to the poetry of Mikael de Lara Co. It was through a poetry page somewhere on social media, a picture of his poem "On the Necessity of Sadness," one of the few poems of his that can be found easily on the internet. Go look it up, right now. It's worth it.
I remember reading it, my body tensing as if to curl up around the feeling of the poem as I read. And I remember sitting in awe. With a single poem, I was suddenly very aware of Mikael de Lara Co--aware that I'd never heard his name before, aware that I needed to find more of his work, and aware that I had just read a poem that could easily become one of my new favorites of all time.
A few months later, I obtained a copy of his book. I live in the US, so it was almost impossible to find anywhere. Luckily I found a bookstore in Singapore who would ship the book to me, for extra shipping of course. But it was a simple decision. It helps that I am almost half Filipino, and while this wasn't and isn't the reason for my need to own a copy of the book, it helped. I like to seek artists who share something with me in that sense.
It might be unfair to other poets, but with this poet it's easy to say: With a single, small volume of poetry, essentially a chapbook, Mikael de Lara Co has become one of my top favorite poets. I read poetry constantly. It's part of my daily routine to take a book or two or five out somewhere--whether it's to a river, to a park, to a bar, or to my backyard--and to read it. Hopefully aloud, even if just to myself. I do this most often with poets who mean the most to me, whose words touch emotional rhythms in me that I can't quite put into words except to say, there's something about their poetry that embodies a way of looking at the world, and I connect to this deeply. That is the case with this book.
But I'm saying too much. Especially with poetry, the poetry itself speaks better than any words about it ever could. Mikael de Lara Co's language is relatively simple, yet he takes profound leaps of meaning and emotion with the simplest turning of words and stanzas. Whether it's the way he writes about his country and his people. Or about the inner workings of longing, or suffering, or love, or memory.
Sometimes the poems feel so profound, I could imagine them as the kinds of poems that are read decades from now and still appreciated for their universal power.
"One word for lily is enough;
there is enough beauty in flowers.
I want to find beauty in suffering.
I want to fail."
And I can only hope there will be more poetry from him available, even if I have to find a way to get it to me by any means necessary.
Until then, "What Passes for Answers" is a book that is constantly with me. One that I carry often when I go somewhere to pace and read poetry out loud. It's a book I cherish, and there isn't a single poem within that isn't, even if in a small way, worthwhile.
"Listen: One day you will pull a book from a shelf
and you will find this, brittle and incomplete like some old flower, and
you will consider this poetry. Don't. This is just a heart, its throbbing
wild, and tremulous, and stifled. These are just lines. This is just a gift,
not even wrapped, its silence the only thing of value to anyone."
Let me presume that I have something
new to say about it, that this room,
naked, its walls pining for clocks,
has something new to say
about absence."
It was with those lines that I was introduced to the poetry of Mikael de Lara Co. It was through a poetry page somewhere on social media, a picture of his poem "On the Necessity of Sadness," one of the few poems of his that can be found easily on the internet. Go look it up, right now. It's worth it.
I remember reading it, my body tensing as if to curl up around the feeling of the poem as I read. And I remember sitting in awe. With a single poem, I was suddenly very aware of Mikael de Lara Co--aware that I'd never heard his name before, aware that I needed to find more of his work, and aware that I had just read a poem that could easily become one of my new favorites of all time.
A few months later, I obtained a copy of his book. I live in the US, so it was almost impossible to find anywhere. Luckily I found a bookstore in Singapore who would ship the book to me, for extra shipping of course. But it was a simple decision. It helps that I am almost half Filipino, and while this wasn't and isn't the reason for my need to own a copy of the book, it helped. I like to seek artists who share something with me in that sense.
It might be unfair to other poets, but with this poet it's easy to say: With a single, small volume of poetry, essentially a chapbook, Mikael de Lara Co has become one of my top favorite poets. I read poetry constantly. It's part of my daily routine to take a book or two or five out somewhere--whether it's to a river, to a park, to a bar, or to my backyard--and to read it. Hopefully aloud, even if just to myself. I do this most often with poets who mean the most to me, whose words touch emotional rhythms in me that I can't quite put into words except to say, there's something about their poetry that embodies a way of looking at the world, and I connect to this deeply. That is the case with this book.
But I'm saying too much. Especially with poetry, the poetry itself speaks better than any words about it ever could. Mikael de Lara Co's language is relatively simple, yet he takes profound leaps of meaning and emotion with the simplest turning of words and stanzas. Whether it's the way he writes about his country and his people. Or about the inner workings of longing, or suffering, or love, or memory.
Sometimes the poems feel so profound, I could imagine them as the kinds of poems that are read decades from now and still appreciated for their universal power.
"One word for lily is enough;
there is enough beauty in flowers.
I want to find beauty in suffering.
I want to fail."
And I can only hope there will be more poetry from him available, even if I have to find a way to get it to me by any means necessary.
Until then, "What Passes for Answers" is a book that is constantly with me. One that I carry often when I go somewhere to pace and read poetry out loud. It's a book I cherish, and there isn't a single poem within that isn't, even if in a small way, worthwhile.
"Listen: One day you will pull a book from a shelf
and you will find this, brittle and incomplete like some old flower, and
you will consider this poetry. Don't. This is just a heart, its throbbing
wild, and tremulous, and stifled. These are just lines. This is just a gift,
not even wrapped, its silence the only thing of value to anyone."
October 4, 2024
4.5
"looked away, the way you looked away
when we were driven from the Garden,
the part of my body that hurt you,
the heart. I was sitting by the river then,
and this much I remember: the fruit
lingering in my mouth, the names it burned
on my tongue as I scampered away
from the Voice. Until now
there is no word for this, and this
is the myth I make of it, the loss,
everything: I will be grateful to you
forever, for the fall."
"I live in a country where a prayer
hides beneath every curse,
and when one cannot find a word
for what one feels, one sighs
and lets the wind ache instead."
"Let me tell you now: I am sitting in a hallway with a borrowed pen and / all I can think of is, Maybe we have loved enough. Maybe too much."
"Deprived of
consonants our griefs all sound
the same. As if from a single heart.
As if throbbing against the knowledge
of leaves: The certainty of severance,
the spiral struggle, the settling.
I would like to speak to you now"
"We were too
oblivious, too obedient to notice
the absence we granted things as
we named them. Was it this knowledge,
or was it the naming itself that undid us?
Our tongues not content inside our bodies,
we longed to possess even the other,
possess them so long as their suffering
was not ours."
girl what the fuck
"looked away, the way you looked away
when we were driven from the Garden,
the part of my body that hurt you,
the heart. I was sitting by the river then,
and this much I remember: the fruit
lingering in my mouth, the names it burned
on my tongue as I scampered away
from the Voice. Until now
there is no word for this, and this
is the myth I make of it, the loss,
everything: I will be grateful to you
forever, for the fall."
"I live in a country where a prayer
hides beneath every curse,
and when one cannot find a word
for what one feels, one sighs
and lets the wind ache instead."
"Let me tell you now: I am sitting in a hallway with a borrowed pen and / all I can think of is, Maybe we have loved enough. Maybe too much."
"Deprived of
consonants our griefs all sound
the same. As if from a single heart.
As if throbbing against the knowledge
of leaves: The certainty of severance,
the spiral struggle, the settling.
I would like to speak to you now"
"We were too
oblivious, too obedient to notice
the absence we granted things as
we named them. Was it this knowledge,
or was it the naming itself that undid us?
Our tongues not content inside our bodies,
we longed to possess even the other,
possess them so long as their suffering
was not ours."
girl what the fuck
February 9, 2022
I read and did not understand a single thing I read.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 23, 2023
2023: I reread this book yesterday and finished it today, a reread fueled by my need to chisel my craft a bit more. i'm bumping my rating of this reading into five stars from four. i've gotten so much more out of my second reading, after a year of studying the craft more, and i admire the quiet syntax Co uses. it's quiet but breathtaking; often, i'm surprised by where the other end of the poetic line would take me. i love how seasonal this book is, as images of the horizon, warm weathers, and brown skin is plenty, and Co's attention to senses and registers is admirable. love to get my copy signed one day
January 12, 2022
I'm almost over, it sings,
it's almost over and sooner of later we'd be left
with nothing but time. If we live that long.
it's almost over and sooner of later we'd be left
with nothing but time. If we live that long.
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews