We did not know his name when we stepped into his tricycle. All I know was we’re late, and the other tricycle boy forfeited his chance for some reason I didn’t know. I greeted him in the same fashion, “Tatay,
Under the bed of chains where you strapped me in my tattered red pajamas I wail at the sunHowling at the loss of the moon who sang me lullabies before the nightmares. You walkedafloat the floor in flipflops, I stayquietly
I’m here! I’m back! I’ve also gotten a new haircut! I wrote a lot and worked a lot, which means less tweets, but I think it’s a good sign, for my brain at least, to be preoccupied with the more
A.k.a. eleven for August 11. It started after a short walk. Or a semi-long walk. Under the rain, under a beaten umbrella that turns upside down at the huff of a strong wind. I got back to the church carrying
I need to get used to this new body. Instead of frail skin dripping down my arms, there’s flesh — a full, protein-rich slab cramped under my once soft skin. I am heavier. Weightier. I feel the gravity from my
