I love you enough
to close my eyes while you drive
I may be the first one to remind you to fix yours on the road.
on your side
Poetry by Andrea Lim | February 16, 2026
now before
Poetry by Andrea Lim | February 16, 2026
In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.
— Albert Camus
From your carved corner, from your side of the crossroads
You asked me to take a look: love, it’s snowing here right now
And in the hurriedness of your work at hand, you sent without an edit:
have you seen now before?
A Shard of Humanity
Fiction by Kennard Francis A. Sedo | February 16, 2026
Nal stood frozen before a chronopod.
It had been 200,000 years since the last discovery of a human relic. Prized artifacts treasured more than an entire planet of gold and anetel. Entire wars had been fought and waged over the possession of such relics.
To Raymond Carver
Poetry by Raymond Ybañez | February 9, 2026
Just this morning I found myself
fixing my umbrella. It rained
last night. I thought of how some things break
Continue reading To Raymond Carver
What a Fisherman from the Philippines Confesses at a Chinese Embassy
Poetry by Justine Paul Paraz | February 9, 2026
Wind very strong.
Sea speak to me.
This water
is my father water
is my grandfather water
is my ancestor water.
Continue reading What a Fisherman from the Philippines Confesses at a Chinese Embassy
Offerings to No One in Particular
Nonfiction by Quisha Marie Latiban | February 9, 2026
“A bunch of rubbish” was my initial thought when I saw it on my daily walk to school. It was in my periphery, an eyesore against the pristine pinkish-white walls as its background, nestled under the shade of a young but bent kalachuchi tree in its unassuming yet interestingly cluttered glory. You walk a few steps ahead and you’ll see the board exam passers of our university, perfectly lined up with minimal design, painting an obvious disparity. With my cheap phone, held together by wrist bands and wishes, I would take a series of photos of a makeshift altar of sorts by the roadside of our school campus between June and September 2025. I was always compelled to take photos, as it was ephemeral, ever-changing, and seemingly included everything.
A Eulogy for Aida Rivera-Ford
Nonfiction by Josie Carballo Tejada | February 2, 2026
The first time I came within the sphere of Aida Rivera-Ford was 58 years ago, when she cast me as one of her players in a short sketch performed before the student body of the University of Mindanao. That was also my first introduction to theatre arts. That experience encouraged me to join the school’s Dramatics Guild, which further honed my interest and passion for the genre. But it was not until 1982 that I seriously embarked on the world of legitimate theatre, owing largely to her orchestration.
Staying Alive (Excerpt)
Nonfiction by Jhoanna Lynn Cruz | February 2, 2026
for Aida Rivera-Ford
On the eve of the Chinese Lunar Festival in October 2009, Aida Rivera-Ford invited me to her farm in Mintal to see sculptures of Nick Joaquin and NVM Gonzales made by National Artist Victorio Edades. I grabbed the chance to spend some time with her, a woman writer I considered a kind of literary mother for having paved the way for those of us who write fiction in English. I used to teach her story “The Chieftest Mourner” in my Philippine Literature classes and La Mujer Esa is an icon for me. As it turns out, Aida had a more interesting story to share. And it’s not the one about Don Jose Oyanguren, the Spanish conquistador who took Davao and whom she considers her soulmate.