Interview: Karlo Sevilla

On Poetic Form, The Potential of a Political Literature, and The Role of Faith in Writing

Karlo Sevilla is a 2024 IHRAM (International Human Rights Art Movement) fellow and a widely published poet whose new book, Recumbent, is out now on 8Letters Books. I recently had a conversation with Karlo over social media about literature, faith, genre, and being a part of a Filipino poetic tradition.

Could you tell me a little about the new book? How is it different from Metro Manila Mammal or the more recent political writing?

First, the physical differences: Metro Manila Mammal (Soma Publishing, 2016) is a full-length collection of 50-something poems and is an eBook, while Recumbent (8Letters Bookstore and Publishing, 2023) is a small collection of 17 poems and in printed form as a chapbook/zine. Next, about the size of the poems: with the former I tried to fill it up, with some exceptions, with poems that I consider as “medium-sized” (according to my own standard for my own works: minimum of 15 lines); with the latter, I didn’t select according to size but most of them are pretty short. And finally, about the theme: both collections cover various themes, though Metro Manila Mammal predominantly features poems that were explicitly inspired by social issues, whereas Recumbent’s narrate either in the first person as someone anatomically laid (passive/involuntarily) or lying (active/voluntarily), or in the third person expressing his thoughts about someone in those body positions—and in varying circumstances. To quote the book’s subtitle/epigraph: “Poems about and from the body laid or lying on any surface – steady or unsteady, dead or alive.” And as a bonus answer: Metro Manila Mammal was a solicited publication (for which I am eternally grateful to publisher Mark Antony Rossi), whereas I persistently sought publication for Recumbent (and I’ll always be thankful to its publisher Cindy Wong for the acceptance and publication). Now about “more recent political writing”: there’s no substantial difference or differences between the more recent and the previous ones; they all still convey that the powers-that-be still, mainly, suck.

I noticed you are incredibly varied when it comes to poetic form. For Diagram, for instance, you were working with concrete forms, and with in other places you are working with the shorter 15 line poems. Has your thinking about form changed?

I’ve never been particularly conscious of what form or size any of my poems would assume; I’m pretty eclectic. I usually write free verse poems, but if there are times when I feel like sculpting a poem into a concrete form, I will. So it’s mostly free verse and intermittently a few concrete/shape poems from time to time. And I have a forthcoming short collection of my previously published shape poems that I expect to be published before this year ends, and it includes two from DIAGRAM. My predilection for shape poems must be symptomatic of the fading visual artist in me: I studied painting in college in the early 1990s. And, even for my otherwise free verse poems, if I can shape the right outline of a poem into either an uphill or downward slope, I would. For example, about my poem “Functional”, recently published by Unlikely Stories Mark V: the edge of the second and third stanzas slope uphill, while the fourth’s slopes downhill.

And it’s good that you asked about form. I’m really interested in writing extensively with the traditional forms – whether those identified with European poetry (sonnet, villanelle, etc.), Asian (haiku, ghazal, etc), and in particular, Filipino (dalit, tanaga, etc.). In fact, I won third place in a poetry competition for the dalit form here in the Philippines, in Tanggol Wika's DALITEXT 2018 poetry contest. My gut feeling tells me I’ll concentrate on traditional forms in 2025, if I’m still alive by then. For next year, 2024, I’ll be focusing on writing and finishing a long poem whose first and last lines have been finalized in my mind for years, with barely anything else but amorphous and abstract concepts in-between.

I didn't know you were a visual artist as well! That is interesting. You mentioned writing in traditional Filipino forms--do you identify as a Filipino poet in a meaningful way? Or, in other words, is that tradition of Filipino literature inform your own writerly identity?

Yes, Christian, I do identify myself as a Filipino poet in a meaningful way. I’m always conscious that I represent my identity and citizenship as a Filipino whenever I write, and whenever a poem of mine gets published and read. (And by “read”, I’m always assured of a minimum audience of one whenever a poem gets published: the editor of the literary platform who accepts.) And how does the “tradition of Filipino literature inform me my own writerly identity”? I cannot qualify exactly but I’m certain that its influence on me has been profound since childhood: the Filipino stories for children read to me by my mother and school teachers; the short stories in either the Filipino or English language that we read and studied from elementary to high school; the standard Philippine high school readings of the Spanish colonial era epic poems “Ibong Darna” whose authorship is widely attributed to Huseng Sisiw and “Florante at Laura” by Francisco Balagtas, along with Jose Rizal’s novels “Noli Me Tangere” and “El Filibusterismo”; and shout-out to my teachers in UPIS elementary and high school who exposed us to literary works by Jun Cruz Reyes, Jose Garcia Villa, Lualhati Torres Bautista, Andres Cristobal Cruz, and other Philippine literary luminaries. And last but not the least, we also discussed two poems by two revolutionary leaders of the late 19th century anti-Spanish colonization movement: “Pag-ibig sa Tinubuang Lupa” by Andres Bonifacio and “Ang Ningning at ang Liwanag” by Emilio Jacinto. In college, I discovered and read more works by Filipino creative writers on my own, and the required reading I remember most is “Mga Ibong Mandaragit” by Amado V. Hernandez for my Philippine Institutions 100 class. Currently, I own a number of books by Filipino creative writers. (And anyone interested can check out the Filipino writers in the Favorite Authors section of my Poets & Writers Directory profile, which includes a previous interviewee of The Isthmus: the amazing Gretchen Filart!

Now, I believe that the influence of the Filipino literary tradition on me is most pronounced when I write protest poems, political poems, and/or perhaps what David Orr categorized as “pseudo-political” poems that according to him, “put forward no argument” and “enact a version of the contemporary meditative lyric . . . with a few political words taking the place of, for instance, references to waterfalls and foliage.” (“Beautiful & Pointless: A Guide to Modern Poetry” by David Orr, First Harper Perennial Edition, 2012.)

I am a Catholic who is very interested in the historical relationship between the Catholic tradition and literature. This is perhaps most notable in the U.S. through writers like Flannery O'Connor and Walker Percy, but also contemporary writers like Donna Tartt. I naturally gravitated towards some of the religious elements in your poetry. Are you of a particular religion? If so, how has that part of your identity influenced your writing?

I’m a Catholic “layman” in both or all meanings of this word, pun intended. Right now, I’m unfortunately more aware of contemporary news on the controversies involving our faith, and less knowledgeable about its rich history and theological underpinnings. Still, I believe I’m more knowledgeable than most Catholics about our faith as I love to read about it. And as you read (and believe), so shall you write. I have some poems that overtly express my Catholicism. Notably, my first two poems accepted for publication by US-based literary journals are unmistakably influenced by elements of my Catholic faith—and one can tell from the get-go, from the very titles themselves: “Chalice” (Spank the Carp, May 2, 2016) and “Filipino Catholics in a Passenger Jeep” (PILGRIM , September 2, 2016). This second poem was even republished in a newsletter of what I deem to be an ultra-conservative Catholic parish in Ohio—without my or its original publisher’s permission! And thanks to your question, Christian, right now I’m considering gathering all what I consider as my Catholic-themed-or-influenced poems and publish them as a small collection . . .

You mentioned that Flannery O’Connor, Walker Percy, and Donna Tartt are recognized as Catholic writers (along with Dorothy Day and Thomas Merton, if I may add); I tend to agree that that is more notable in the US. Here in the Philippines, perhaps, we take for granted having writers who are identified (self-identified or by others) as Catholic because we are a predominantly Catholic country in the first place.

While I’m sure most creative writers here in the Philippines, until now, were baptized as Catholics, I absolutely have no idea about the status of their relationship with the church—and I never bothered to ask the few who are my friends. But I think we can gain a valuable insight into this matter from what journalist John Nery wrote about Jose Rizal whom I mentioned earlier. In the remaining years of his life in exile before he was executed by firing squad, Neri wrote that Rizal “was no longer a practicing Catholic, but remained very much a cultural one.” (“Rizal as Catholic” by John Nery, Philippine Daily Inquirer, December 20, 2014.)

We can glean features of Catholic life in the literary output of Filipino writers, given our demographics. I can almost guarantee that you’ll find featured among the works of our most prolific and preeminent writers, the following: the Sunday Mass, Catholic celebrations, a priest, a character uttering a Catholic prayer, among others.

As for me, it would be great to earn recognition as a Catholic writer someday. But right now, while I continue to deepen my knowledge and appreciation of my faith, I claim to be a progressive Catholic who takes a fancy to sacramentalism.

Your list of publications is immense! I know you are incredibly busy--as a teacher, as a parent, as a martial artist, etc.--so how do you find the time to write? Can you discuss your writing practice a bit?

Thank you, Christian! I often write every time I’m free from my tasks “as a teacher, as a parent, as a martial artist, etc.” It may be my ADHD at work but I do get inspiration from virtually everything: my family, songs, other poems, current events, any YouTube video, etc. And about YouTube videos, my poem “Elephant Sinking into a Mud Pit” (JAKE literary magazine, January 29, 2023) was inspired, or “despaired,” by a video about, well, elephant rescue.

Many times, initially, a line or two just pops up in my head. Then I revise it in my mind or on my laptop as I see fit and it either ends up as the first line or couplet of a poem. And if I find it particularly strongly evocative and/or vivid, it will be the last line or couplet. I’ll weave the rest of the poem towards it.

Now as they say, “Less talk, less mistake.” It’s the same with writing: the fewer words you write, the fewer mistakes you commit. I’m confident that I can write and iron out my own haiku to its best version possible all by myself. And may I sheepishly admit that I have many short poems that I share immediately on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and other social media platforms. In contrast, the longish ones I often submit first to the ever-reliable Rat’s Ass Review online poetry workshop, where I’ve been a member since 2016. I’m definitely more confident with my poems that were workshopped by my excruciatingly exacting peers, and I always submit them for publication among literary journals and other platforms afterwards. (I also submit short poems in the workshop though, and workshopped or not, some of my poems that I first shared on social media eventually end up getting published in literary magazines.)

As my parting shot, let me mention my recently departed RAR workshop mate Bob MacKenzie who, along with the rest of our peers, dispensed helpful suggestions to improve many of my poems. Bob of Canada is likewise a widely-published poet and an Ontario Arts Council grantee for literature, among other accolades. Just before he died, he managed to generously write the introduction for my recent collection, “Recumbent.” I dedicate this interview with The Isthmus to the brilliant but at times cranky Bob MacKenzie, haha! Here’s to honor your memory, Bob!