Phynnecabulary

Summer, ackk ^ June! ^ Marin Headlands ^ Discomfort, be gone! ^ Hindi Tayo ang mga Inaapi ^ “If You Want to Know What We Are,” Carlos Bulosan

A Mary Cherry • Divine Poems, José García Villa

MayNinety • “Filipino Boogie,” a poem by Jessica Hagedorn

Countdown to Philippine Independence Day: Bayan Ko, Jose Corazon De Jesus

Donna Summers and late 70s summertime is inextricably bonded to happiness, and youth now gone.

It’s easy, she’s pointing back in the mirror at you.

Had. It. Up. To. Here. (**apologies to Mr. Hanrahan for butchering your name!)

Eternity or sin? Choices, choices.

...while the weekends sometimes have flesh.

We were never meant to see each other after the foam dissipated and our ocean dried up

...otherwise, go home! You’re just wasting everyone’s time. Ain’t no one got time for that!

Orchestra Warmup • Peeving hard, oh-so-hard. • Attention

In seeing you with fresh eyes, I saw myself, too. They imagine themselves Legion, but we are winged Seraphim in multitude.

Stories will always be a central part of my history, my life, my day to day.

Chose your words carefully. It’s not such a bad idea, really.

Sunday is for writers, with some room for terms and conditions.

It’s your gal, Phynne, with a Saturday afternoon poem for you to munch on. Yum. (Poem: “Just a Sestina to You, Honey, Letting You Know What an Intersting Thing Happened to Me While You Were at Home Rubbing Your Wife’s Back,” Carolyn Creedon.

Slaughtered Saints. The Color Red. Where Love Really Happens. Shh, Enough, Hallmark.

Good boi, good girl.

The world is shrinking, we are getting closer. Can you feel it happen?