• Raconteuse Radio

    Season 1, Episode 010: The Blinded Belong to 24

    Guilliean reads three of her poems; read along with the poems while you’re listening! Photo by Tim Rüßmann on Unsplash Where Do I Belong? All my life I straight tripped on who I was Was I Filipino, was I American? For twenty-eight years, I could not assume either role, I was never pigeonholed, but I never belonged. My accent is Nor Cal born & bred My height is so misled I eat rice with my hands I nosh hamburgers for breakfast I sing God Bless America with the firefighters I sing Dahil sa iyo like the Divas I drive like…

  • Raconteuse Radio

    Season 1, Episode 009: Kiss Everyone Up

    Guilliean reads three of her poems; read along with the poems while you’re listening! Photo by Dustin Commer on Unsplash Kiss of Def Forever the sickest This is how I see myself A little bit cynical, always a miracle I learned early on, Depend on no one but yourself Call it a front, call it a shield Ain't no one but me stepping out on the field Life is but a dream, but loneliness is my reality Solitude / platitudes / gratitudes are such unreality Melodies and songs plow through my mind These are the things that are one of…

  • Raconteuse Radio

    Season 1, Episode 008: At War with the Nature of My Juice

    Guilliean reads three of her poems; read along with the poems while you’re listening! Pomegranate Juice Sweet and sour, puckered tongues, and stained fingertips I had a great line here, but I deleted it in revision I tend to ramble and I drop in images from the things I've learned And I've learned a lot. So much crime in the world today, makes me wanna hide under the covers But you can't stay there because you have shit to do You brutalized the umami on my taste buds I'm sucking down hydrogen monoxide to restore my sanity Turned out, dropped…

  • Raconteuse Radio

    Season 1, Episode 007: Flip the Precarious Culmination

    Guilliean reads three of her poems; read along with the poems while you’re listening! Flip the Script It had to look real. Bruise had to be shaped just so. Lampshade swayed like Newton's law. Equal but opposite. It was the only heavy object within reach. Timed carefully. The neighbors would hear. They would see his car in the driveway. The wound would be temporary, Band-Aid. This house; a prison, An expensive gilded cage. Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash Culmination I'm trying to recall How it felt to have A country home in your arms The scent of…