What has been told, what has been withheld, what might yet be written differently?

An interview with Devyn Mañibo

On every grave, for saint or for sinner, grows a green garden

A folio of poetry, prose, and hybrid work

I grow, I decay, darkness comes, lightness comes

We chase each other through the murmuration.

auspicious tree roots
Rather than waste energy
told a new story

aku laju ke masa yang nun | I continued to the time over yonder

राई का दाना इतना छोटा होता है
The seed of the mustard is so small

A triptych

When the fire mouths Oh Oh Oh I know what it means.

the peaks of this memory
sharpen

is there majestic blood coursing through my veins?

What got you through those first few months of COVID? What comes to mind when I say, “body?” How will you live now?