February 2020


  • Cleaning the Attic

    Around two or three silverfishes dart among the pulverized lizard eggshells at the bottom of the box. Gliding into corners, hiding from view. I pull my hand away, eventually learning the shock might be much more real to them than it is for me: a lesson in consolation. Here I keep what I hold on…

  • There is a boy in the island

    The boy tells you what white is in his native tongue—puti, like sand, like your skin, like the cobblestoned boulevards you have back home. You tell him there’s something about this island. You do not know what it is exactly, but you tell him it’s like home. He says this is home. You are riding…

  • City lines

    Tangled electric cables are always part of the sky’s scenes.The day looks owned by many and conquered by some, maya claws holding ontothin lines. Whether the clouds finally share its load to the groundor the sun thinks it is the only star, everyone is always under the weather.You remember one rainy Talamban morning and feathers…