Nothing’s Too Far
There is no escaping the long arm of memory,
& the more I try to, I turn to it instead:
During trips to my father’s house tucked deep
in Badbad, I learned as a child to look at the blurring
flowers when responses to “Are...
YOU NEVER FELT so secure before…. Hovering above the now-unshackled pristine and fertile triangular island of 1566 Bamban were familiar crimson cumulus clouds. Fresh off the ships, the towering yet mapuraw bangús-white people—with broken Bisaya—claim that the Sicily-like land, brimming with oyster shells...
In our August 2022 issue, novices and veterans share their literary works.
Read multi-awarded poet, fictionist, and essayist ROWENA TIEMPO TORREVILLAS’ poem “AWA-AO (for Gemino Abad)” and “Maranatha” from poet MILA AGUILAR
SHORT STORIES“Say My Name” by Tansi Ajette P. Gabriel“The Rag Dolls” by...
Pluviophile. She had to look that word up because she wanted to know if there was a term to describe people like her.
People who love the rain, according to Google. People who find joy and peace of mind in rainy days.
She didn’t know...
I have been bullied since I was a kid. People have been calling me the grandson of bayawak. I never knew why such a name has become a part of me. From the time I grew up, I have been called bayawak. I...
“And it never failed that during the dry years the people forgot about the rich years, and during the wet years they lost all memory of the dry years. It was always that way.”—John Steinbeck, East of Eden
Our city offers a beautiful scene,...
Mornings do not rise
Above this leafy prison.
Time hangs midnoon
Over sharp sugarcane leaves,
Striking against the downpour
Of cruel sunrays.
All the sounds enclosing
Are the rustle of the...
I move chairs at midnight,
Adjusting my wife’s preference
Which one is facing which.
The cats are doing football
Banging on tables and walls.
All six of them,
Siamese versus...