Culture
The first time I saw Apo Tudo, The Ilocano rain deity, I swear, he sent mist to that mountain Outside of Baguio Kissing the Filipino soil with sweet promises and tearful memories My grandmother share... Read more
Every Refugee is a Poem
(1) كلُّ لاجئٍ قصيدةٌ. (2) أنا القصيدةُ: كان كاتبي على عجلٍ، فلم يضع ليَ عنواناً. تركني على مكتبِه ثم غادرَ. ... Read more
In Search of Identity
البحث عن هوية لا وطن لي أُنتزعت منّي الهوّية وهمت في رحاب الأرض بلا مرجعيّة فهلاّ آويتني؟ هلاّ كنت لي أرضاً أز... Read more
The New KW
This poem is meant to be read out loud, with friends, while in transit. Persevere through construction, detours won’t trouble you Let these stories mark our new KW. A KW that connects us with... Read more
Two Movements
I From the terrace before six I see a train crossing, Three cars long—“That’s it?” Passing in no time at all. I linger for the evening commuter; longer, heavier, humi... Read more
Clementine
When Soma was six the fireflies used to get tangled in her hair, clouds would shape themselves into castles for her to rule, and lemonade tasted sweeter. Her mouth would get numb from eating too much ... Read more