Go after a “big fish” yet still live, die with Marcos’
democracy,
That’ll keep the Philippines in touch with the world
banks
Now, as then, and well into the greyest future: no further
hope?
There are our “progressive” telecommunications companies
praying
A late Hail Mary from a diaspora. But you know the
plutocracy,
the statesmen-merchants for leaders keeping the
Philippines
In touch with the aid, and, uh, Vatican? What banks? What
touch?
What’s the point of all this fasting for mother Earth? Nah—
indiscriminate
Logging, mining, labor exploitation, manufacture of poverty,
now the
Eternal clichés. So, let them reign forever, . . . end her like
used-up
Sand mines at a beach, bitches. Let ourselves rot for now, and
bleed
Fear! Oh, sure, okay, let help stalk the provinces while wary
o’ the
Red-baiting, as you hop from station to station, slowly onto a
platform,
Another perpetual agony whence we can trade jokes again,
laughing
O’er the horror of ghost roads, the ultimate political and
economic joys
We are all familiar with, can relate to, through the Marcoses
in us,
With us, US, China, forever flaunting telecommunion lines
direct
To our religious palaces, part of the rest of their providential
world—
Mythological America, God-building China, in whom our
palaces trust
Their profits (dangerous as superpowers might be
should
They lose their G8+5 seat). Then, for a long time to come,
push
Our women to look up to Mammon’s priests circling scraped
skies
With blade-carrying phalluses, eagles from a monastery, laugh
against
Marxist productions of judgments now on trial, crucified like a
suspected
Liberation theologian, gone after! Our big fish of neoliberal
poetic
Justice, juried by erring militarized personnel, shall inherit the
forests,
Beaches, their temporary heaven, until we, resilient, learn to gush
out—
Water, flooding “I have the floor”s with a change of climate, no
doubt.
—1999-2026
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