Author: F Jordan Carnice

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

  • Two Poems

    Pony Ride   At the emergency room, trauma and tragedy slip in and out of the door. Here is a carousel of chances, lifeline gliding and bobbing in circles. Maybe we are all clowns for even trying. Sideshow oddities making a mark under the great big top of this cosmic joke. Applause and lion’s roar,…

  • Doorknobs

    Lately I am no longer certain if the sound of a doorknob turning heralds your arrival or your leaving. Or just the seconds clicking by. But I’ll take what I can get. Believe me, I try to get my mind off things— the borrowed shirt still in my closet, an email that has yet to…

  • 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 dartamong the pulverized lizard eggshellsat the bottom of the box. Gliding into corners,hiding from view. I pull my hand away,eventually learning the shockmight be much more real to themthan it is for me: a lesson in consolation.Here I keep what I hold on to untilmemory thins into anomalous relics:tattered journals,…