2020

F. Jordan Carnice is a creative writing graduate at Silliman University and is also an information technology graduate at STI College. His works have seen print in Katitikan: Literary Journal of the Philippine South, Philippines Free Press, Philippines Graphic, Sunday Times Magazine, Voice & Verse Poetry Magazine, Quarterly Literary Review Singapore, among other publications. He is a recipient of fellowships from several writing workshops in the Philippines and has served as a panelist twice in the Taboan Writers Festival. He has won the poetry grand prize in the 2020 Cebu Climate Emergency Literature and Arts Competition for his poem “There is Too Much Light in this World.” He has released two poetry collections—Weights & Cushions (2018) and How to Make an Accident (2019). He is also a visual artist whose works can be seen on the Instagram account @art.bullfrog

  • Sky Over Cairns

    I wake up from my seat to a suddenblue blasting from the window.The sky looks certain as azure,if not for its scant escort of cloudsand the crepuscular raysescaping through them.Perhaps requisite at this hour,perhaps proofs of something moredivine—an assurance thateverything is all well and all right. Six hours earlier I took offat 11:30PM from a…

  • 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…