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Philippines Graphic Reader

Two Poems for the Road

A Dirge (Majayjay-Lucban Road, June 16, 2024) How swift the shift from Thalia’s smile to Melpomene’s frown. One moment, Jack was about to crack a joke. Then smack into our bus the trike smashed, a deadly strike. Traffic crawled at the bloody spectacle of the sprawled body splayed in a strange angle. Dazed in shock, I brace myself for a...

If I Could Be Free

“I envy all of them.” I greatly pitied myself for just observing what was happening around me. Sitting up straight in my bed, I saw from my window, a bunch of kids playing with a ball outside the hospital. I saw them kicking...

Three New Poems

The Demanding Gospel For Sunil Stephens “Luke’s Gospel is a gospel of mercy; it emphasizes Jesus’ identification with the poor and the lowly, and His willingness to forgive sinners. Yet it is also a demanding gospel, for it shows that being a follower of Christ...

Déjà vu

It was cold on the day I reaped my first soul. I had known it was coming—had been preparing for it. Although I had watched my mentor do it all summer, although I had prepared for this day, I was not ready. He...

Slaughterhouse Poems

When My Father Passed Away This theater is a slaughterhouse where filaments of grief are too shifty to cut, amusing guests who come  along with gestures broadly understanding what brought them in, inscribing very clearly associations overhanging with the deceased. The bereaved insists on what needs to be preserved along fertility lines, which unkind behavior should be dismembered. Here,...

Just a Pomelo Fruit

No, not again! Mayla heard herself complain when she saw the long queues. She could not make it on time for her favorite TV news program! There were several long lines towards the waiting buses bearing different sign boards: Monumento, Cubao, Sta. Ana,...

Random Pickings

Sometimes, I Am the Leaves

Aimless and astray—“I won’t go far”But most times, I am lost in the intricate streets and manmade blocks Not knowing the way back to your...

On Sundays…and Belonging

On Sundays and belonging,And when I used to mess around with Lolo’s typewriter:Clicking and clacking the worn-out buttons, it is legacySounding against my stubby...

The Baby

Dr. Marta was seated on a stool in the Recovery Room writing her notes on a patient just transferred from the Delivery Room. Suddenly,...

Penalty of our Frailties

“And it never failed that during the dry years the people forgot about the rich years, and during the wet years they lost all...