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Philippines Graphic Reader
Bunót
My tongue used to be made up of copra,
salivating oils that indicate who I am and where
I’m from. A place where coconut husks roof
people’s mouths. Instrument to ignite brittle vowels
and wavy coir tones. When my people speak,
one can hear songs that carry the...
Safety is a Hole in the Ground
Beth woke up with a start to the unearthly screams of a pig as it was being lashed to the long wooden bench in the dirty kitchen. The animal protested; its initial squeals became an alarmed bellow as it struggled to free itself....
Naked
We have our palms embedded in the trunks
of trees, embroidered in its leaves were desires
left seasoned by the worms. That the fruits were
products of a hundred laborers, scattered throughout
the jungle of civilization, undisturbed, and the seeds
outgrown the narratives of the past, filling the...
Dial “D” for Desire
I was yet to meet a man like him. He sauntered into the room with a gait that announced, Look! I’m here! And by the time the heavy pinewood door swung shut behind him, all my trainees—of which he was to be one—had...
MEMOS
To the Woodcarvers of Betis
1
if i could feel the cold
hardness of wood,
would i also know
your will, woodcarver,
your will to hew a soul
out of a lifeless slab?
what skill does it take
to craft complete an art,
a promised beauty,
defined and fulfilled?
if i find the wisdom,
then, i...
Indelible Stains
It is Saturday morning. I am down on all fours on the bathroom floor. My hair is kept up by a plastic clamp; my face, bare. Keeping everything pristine is my compulsion. Today is no exception. Using a rag soaked in Zonrox, I...
