We were all once
born of the earth—
keeper of her breath,
kin to root and river,
to feather and fur,
to the anito, the diwata,
and the taw’t talun,
spirits...
Sunday blessed peace from nothing—
and nothing was a woman reduced
to a child's love running after drunken anger
letting go of nothing,
again nothing—
nothing was napping in...
The children of the town had once belonged to the streets. Their laughter rattled off the cracked sidewalks, their games stretched across alleys and...