I
So in a fit of righteous anger
I washed the pots pans
plates bowls knives spoons glasses
even cleaned the kitchen sink and the drawers,
which I haven’t been able to do for a long time.
The leftover food I did not care to save
for the dog. I...
The night the war reached Cebu, Maria woke to the sound of distant explosions. It was April 1942 and she had just turned fourteen years old. Maria had known fear before—of the dark, of illness, of school exams—but this was different. The air...
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 peering enemy
And the striking of our espading
Against the earth's unflinching deadness,
Whose parchedness is under our tongue
And whose flame is...
Today is the last Friday of March, and it is stifling hot over here on the island, its jungle mountains overlooking the Pacific seaboard. A dry spell is forecast to last until October. The heat drones heavy and dull and hangs like a...
“You’re free to dream,” is what’s often heard
For wishful thinking seems to be done daily
And nobody had to pay a dime to keep it in their minds
Or really is it so?
The price of a dream never comes cheap
It has, and always has been,...
Monsignor Sullivan was seated at his glass-topped desk, the letter from Vikings Cruise on a linen stationery before him. Should he take up the offer of a free cruise in exchange for serving as chaplain for two weeks on the ship?
He was wearing...
(Short Fiction in the Style of Joaquin Antonio Penalosa’s God’s Diary)
When the Cherubim settled down and the fluttering of wings turned into soft rustlings,...