Poetry by Maryanne Lobaton | February 8, 2009
a single broken fork,
a couple of plastic cups,
lots of crumpled paper —
and you start to realize
that they’re all just clutter…
yesterday, they’re needed;
now, they’re nothing.
and you squint at the same thought
because it’s a lot like love,
where one is left behind –
broken and utterly
useless.
Poetry by Krizia Banosan Garcia | February 8, 2009
out of thick nothingness
you come forth
and strip me bare.
i adore the tears you make me shed.
i despise your guts,
and your pretentious innocence.
my thoughts lick you when midnight awakens
while you play beneath other women’s sheets.
bitter, bittersweet you fall upon me.
my mind chokes you to your sweet death.
i lie for hours as my thoughts skin you,
and taste your flesh.
upon my weary eyes you melt, helplessly.
i’m masked by my deceptive defense,
but you are the sole reality
that brings me to my knees.
you cleanse me when i am clothed with filth.
out of thick nothingness
you come forth
and strip me bare.
Fiction by Arifah Jamil | February 1, 2009
I start my day with Subhanallah and feel the last bead of my pasbih with Allahuakbar. They agreed to forego the dialaga. The wedding is set a month from today. Baba said the mahr is more than generous enough.
You could give your friends, apart from your cousins and other family of course, their adat. No worries about that, Sittie Mouhminah. How much would they want? Give me your guest list too. We are drafting the probable guests. Your Mama has started on some relatives from her side of the family. Compose yourself, atakolay. This one is way better than him. Bangsa, atakolay. Bangsa.
Poetry by Arian Rey Tejano | February 1, 2009
You think it must be worth heaven
at the end of the month
when swollen skin begins to heal,
and strings begin to melt.
That first day,
before it rises, is the birth of a lizard
working to delight a scarlet rose
to bear a heavy bulge of pain.
There is heaven
when you play after recovery
from morning woods
to evening calls.
But when your scarlet rose fails
to bear a heavy bulge of pain,
lonely is the heaven
your lizard is worth to fend.
Poetry by Arian Rey Tejano | February 1, 2009
Walking in the garden,
I saw you and I asked,
“How does it feel to be a butterfly?”
You said,
“I don’t know”, asking me back,
“You, how does it feel to be a girl?”
Then I answered,
“I don’t know. I’m a boy.”
And as you flew away, you said,
“See. ‘Cause I’m a moth, not a butterfly. Shhhhhh!”
Poetry by Laarni Lorono | February 1, 2009
i powdered my nose
you did the same
i applied cheeks’ tint
you followed suit
i swiped mascara
you wanted it too
i painted my lip with rouge
you looked at me and said,
“May I paint mine too?”
i stared back in a second
too dazed to react
but then again i said
“Sure…why not?”
Events by Dominique Gerald Cimafranca | January 25, 2009
Nonfiction by Sarah Bagis | January 25, 2009
When I see myself in mirrors, I don’t notice my mother’s nose, my father’s eyes, or my aunt’s lips. I do see my reflection but I don’t recognize myself. What I see is my father, what I recognize is a molded reflection of my father’s.
My father may not always have been there for me, but I believe he made sure to be there at the exact moment I had a weak grasp of what was going around me—he made sure to be there to help strengthen my grasp of what was worth gripping, of what was worth holding on to. Here is how I knew.