Jose Padua: The Art of Moving or Alternate Interpretations of an Old Blues Song
Back then, whether or not you agreed with the white man, you didn’t question him, because that meant trouble and my family didn’t want trouble with anyone.
Jose Padua: From the Belly to the Head
In my immigrant culture
the custom was for children to live at home with
the family, to contribute to that home, and continue
to do so until they had families of their own,
but I never said that, never explained, never
wanted to say my people do things differently
Jose Padua: And the Green Card Moon Shines Brightly Over the Beautiful Black Ocean
That weekend started off with another encounter with the woman who always tailgates me when I’m trying to stay somewhat close to the school zone speed limit. I’d just dropped … Continue reading
Jose Padua: A Better Tomorrow
My Dad was the caretaker of the Philippine ambassador’s residence for several decades but the day when he seemed to take the most pride and joy in his job was … Continue reading
Jose Padua: Notes from a Poem Rewritten while Listening to Prince
The first protest I ever attended was on a beautiful spring day and I was asked to leave. because I wasn’t animated enough for a spring day or for a … Continue reading
Jose Padua: Bold as Love
It was my end of the summer visit back home— to DC, from New York, from the train full of bad snacks and half-cold beer, and when I got to … Continue reading
