I try very hard to make the English language sound beautiful. But in doing so, I can’t ignore how language (and yes, even poetry) can also be made odious, or how eloquence can be used for malintent.
KUNDIMAN 20TH ANNIVERSARY POETRY PORTFOLIO
reverse tongue abecedarian
keep / fertile the jambu groves our fathers freed. let us be more than / echo of river’s ebb.
INSIGHT
A Reading Life
“Who is to say the writer’s intention is necessarily any more important than the meaning we find or create?”
KUNDIMAN 20TH ANNIVERSARY POETRY PORTFOLIO
Speculative Song
[Enter
the page, bearing a vow.]
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To Speak On My Mother’s Death
This is a choice. This is the insult. This is carelessness of a system and a society.
Our Archipelago
In the countryside, a platoon of peasants torch a backhoe, / owned by Del Monte, gutting our people’s ancestral land.
I TRY TO WRITE THE DEAD BLUE WHALE, PARTIALLY BURIED IN THE SAND OF TIBURÓN
From its jaw, Héctor peels a sample of skin. Cuts baleen from its mouth. My body is in waves. The urge to turn from this great unspooling overtakes me.
I Call From Everywhere to Everywhere:
Friend. To practice one’s true self is to grow brave for consequence. Friend. I am here for honorable acts. Friend. I am sitting at JFK again.
