At first glance, Lamberto Antonio’s “Pastol” feels like stepping into an Amorsolo painting. You know the ones – golden light, carabaos in rice fields, that idealized Filipino rural life we’ve all seen in museums.
Night Swimming I practiced hurtlike how pearls are made,methodically, with attention,this art of controlled wounding. This is how. First,you learn to treasure what harms you,learn
The Witness by April Pagaling (in reply to “Wala Nang Tao sa Sta. Filomena”) You stand in the stubbled field,a scarecrow stripped of purpose,shirt faded
The flower openswithout violence.This is what I learned in elementary,how resistance lives in softness.I stand in the kitchen, watchingpetals drift into my teacup,thinking of my
The absence of connection burns differently than the absence of touch. A poem about loneliness and how two bodies can share a bed while their hearts inhabit separate countries.
Walking around in Sagada and finding this beautiful spider web. A meditation on grief and finding comfort in unexpected places and a reflection on rebuilding and survival.
The chill of January mornings in Marinduque and navigating the cold, thinking of unspoken young love. Discover how the Sea of Clouds intertwines with the warmth of a fleeting smile in this introspective poem.
Photos and what not.
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