Conchitina Cruz Biography – What’s The Life Story Of Conchitina Cruz?

This is the Conchitina Cruz Biography, some details about her life.

CONCHITINA CRUZ BIOGRAPHY – Here’s the life story and some of the most famous works of the multi-awarded poet – Conchitina Cruz Biography.

A teacher of creative writing and literature at the University of the Philippines in Diliman is Conchitina Cruz who has also authored a lot of books already. She wrote books of poetry which included “Dark Hours” that received the National Book Award for Poetry. She’s also a Palanca-awardee. Her works “Second Skin” in 1996 and “The Shortest Distance” in 2001 won her Palanca awards.

Conchitina Cruz

She was also a co-editor of High Chair 12, a three-part issue of the journal. The focus is the Maguindanao Massacre of 2009. She was also a co-editor of the Kritika Kultura Anthology of New Philippine Writing in English of the English Department in Ateneo de Manila University in March 2011.

Her hardwork and dedication made her receive a Fulbright and Rockefeller Foundation grant. She is currently doing her PhD in English at the University at Albany, State University of New York.

She has published poetry at the Philippine and American journals.

Check out below a couple of her written poems:


I took the amaretto to mean there was no beer in the house.
I took the bassline to mean a particular addressee was in the crowd.
I took the clairvoyant weather to mean I could dismiss your unappealing conclusions.
I took the dry run to mean the echo was unreliable.
I took the elevated appeal of allusions to mean the fever had no fangs.
I took your fury to mean there was grass in the basement.
I took the gelatinous substance to mean a diminished generosity toward herbivorous endeavors.
I took happiness to mean I had the right syllable in mind.
I took the initials to mean just leave the front door unlocked.
I took the jellyfish scuttling by the reef to mean the kleptomania was the least of my concerns.
I took the kiss to mean a potentially inconsequential lesson.
I took the lesion barely hidden by your sleeve to mean you had no wish to mimic the tragedies of your flawed heroines.
I took the marionette on the clothesline to mean there was hope for the unsuspecting neighbor.
I took no to mean it was the only answer.
I took the oppressive serendipity to mean that panic might or might not send us straight into an emergency.
I took the paprika to mean quiz the cook, not the gardener.
I took the imperious quill to mean the repetition was intentional.
I took the sly reference to mean the substitute had surpassed the preference.
I took the song to mean you took the necessary pill.
I took the tricky decimal to mean I should unsay the speech I made over dinner.
I took the unexpected unification to mean veer away from condescending middlemen.
I took the violinist’s lisp to mean it was imperative to wait in line.
I took the waiver to mean there was a xenophobe in the building.
I took the third x-ray to mean you had nothing more to lose.
I took the yapping from the room below to mean the token zorroing was a far more appropriate gesture.
I took the zero dangling from the headline to mean the aphorism was a spell in disguise.

Half an hour in the house of indecision or procrastination

The cotton buds are attracting ants by the hundreds, they are almost flowers.

The blinds are behaving like piano keys at the mercy of an inebriated player. Or: the blinds are undulating like the sea on an uneventful summer day. Or: the blinds are shimmering like grass skirt of a woman scavenging for keys in a cavernous purse.

Are there three illegal puppies yelping without let up in the apartment next door or just two?

electric fan
The dust clinging to the spokes of the fan spans several eras: The Era of the Apartment Devastated by Flood, The Era of Politically Incorrect yet Extremely Amusing Terms for Informal Settlers, and The Era of Citrus-Scented Cleaning Agents to Cover Up the Accidents of the Ailing Cat.

Instant coffee with condensed milk is too pleasant to be thought of as making do.

There is nothing in the house that seems to have emerged from a grandmotherly chest inlaid with mother-of-pearl save for the stereoscope and the box of slides of pastoral scenes in turn-of- the-century India.

In lieu of the guitar left in the office. In lieu of the sorely missed cable subscription. In lieu of mid-week nights at the bar with unexplainably cheap margaritas, now closed for renovation.

The term you mean to use when you say threshed out is fleshed out.

shameful vanity
The studio photograph taken years ago to commemorate the shamelessly literary tattoo is languishing in a book bag from a forgettable conference.

wishful thinking
Today is hopefully not the day the landlady slips the electric bill under the door.

Conchitina was born in Manila. She received her MFA at the University of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania where she studied and taught under Fulbright grant. Her works already appeared in Mid-American Review, Indiana Review, Philippine Studies and the online journal High Chair.

Here are some of her works:

  • Disappear, a chapbook published in 2005 by High Chair
  • Dark Hours, published in 2005 by The UP Press
  • Elsewhere Held and Lingered, published in 2008 by High Chair


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