at the town’s public cemetery, I lightthree candles to celebrate his life. Their flames are tiny suns that flickeragainst the dusk. His name on the wooden cross is fading. When was my last visit...

The virus made everyone cower inside their houses—windows taped shut as if air and light were poisonous and doors locked tightly as if to shut out more than just a robber but...

On her windowsillMother keeps a small garden.A patch of many shapes and colors.Old twigs coaxing unborn leaves.Subversive thorns caring for vari-colored blooms.Plants and essences that cureToothaches and loneliness.Here, she wields the power.She...

The country’s best writers and cultural institutions paid homage this year to the 100th anniversary of the late National Artist Nick Joaquin. Ironically, had Joaquin been around, he might never have allowed the...