THEO ITCHON
Theo is a nonbinary poet and a creative writing teacher. They collect tattoos, order the same three things in every restaurant, and try daily to watch as many horror films as possible. They live in the Philippines with their cat, Kaz.
poems
Forthcoming: "The Photograph," and "Midnight Elegy" on Agapanthus Collective
“What a strange, lovely thing it is to have a body.” bODEy, fifth wheel press, 2023
"My body has secrets, all etched on the spot on my back that I could never quite reach." The Secret Life of My Body, Ligaw Anthology, 2023
"I might just believe in God because of ube; its soft tango with the tang of the keso. It’s too fine a design to be a coincidence." God is a Brown Man, Rat World Magazine, Issue 6, 2023
"Do not speak to the lover you left, not for an apology. He will be waiting there." Godhood in Ten Easy Steps, Right Hand Pointing, Issue 152, 2023
"We’re two empty bodies trying to fill the other." an official apology to khadija, Right Hand Pointing, Issue 152, 2023
"I'm sorry I left you behind" & "My childhood" Five Fleas, 2023
"There is magic in this earth. It lives in pinecones, in the sound of the TV from the next room." Magic Lessons, South Broadway Ghost Society, 2023
"Perhaps when your brother dipped you in the river Styx, he held you by your hand." An Ode to Kaz Brekker's Hands, HaluHalo Journal, Issue 2, 2023
"Perhaps the next instinct after killing for a full belly is to find loving arms to fall into afterwards." The beast in the woods, The Cardiff Review, 2023
"So instead the man looks away because it weighs too much and if he had more to give, he’d lose his liver." Dead Dog, Unbroken, Issue 36, 2023
"This is to small loves, no burning houses, no orchestra. Only love, small as my pinky. I miss them all the same." Small Loves, Eunoia Review, 2022
"I am a wobbly line, the kind you trip over. And worst of all I try to be good and kind, and I fail but I try again." Acknowledgements, Thimble Lit Magazine, Vol. 5, No. 2, 2022
"Whistle me a song, and I'll ask you to tango, two reflections, but we were never kind to each other." - I Owe You a Poem, Anak Sastra Issue 46, 2022
"I could take a nap, a cat on its belly my head filled with sweetness cutting through my sour fruits." - Nature Poem, Anak Sastra Issue 46, 2022
"I put my neck, my fingers, and my ankles in keychains, send them to my mother and father. It’s true; part of me always belonged to them anyway." The Funeral, Anak Sastra Issue 46, 2022
"The blades of grass open a mouth, always a form of hunger to be satiated." - Dead Chicken, Katitikan Issue 4, 2021
A celebration of my brain, the orange fruit that it is, in the form of a newsletter.
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