~ erasure poem based on The First Voyage Round the World;
Antonio Pigafetta, 1874
7.
In the island are mines of gold, which they
find in pieces as big as a walnut or an egg
he had a cross
he showed them the
sign of the emperor his lord and master
we saw many houses built on trees
if he
wished for peace he would have peace if he wished for war he would have war
Manifest Destiny (Infinite Loop)
~ erasure poem based on The First Voyage Round the World;
Antonio Pigafetta, 1874
6.
The captain
showed
them all his goods and
also had some shots fired with his artillery they were
afraid that they wished to jump into the sea
we saw came two long boats, which they call
Ballanghai
the king ordered to be brought a dish of pig's flesh and
wine they first raise their hands to heaven
I ate flesh on Good Friday
Manifest Destiny (Infinite Loop)
~ erasure poem based on The First Voyage Round the World;
Antonio Pigafetta, 1874
5.
sweet oranges, a vessel of palm
wine,
bracelets and rings of gold on their arms
holes in their ears so large they can pass their arms through
them
there are birds, figs a palm long, sweet canes, flying fish
These people
poor, but ingenious, and great thieves
they
thought there were
no other men in the world besides them
Fire Mummies
~ Kabayan, Benguet
We hold on as long as we can
until the mountain trail swims
like a river of mist before our eyes,
and we know it's time.
Before we close our eyes and leave
the village forever, the shaman brings a drink
in a shell dipper to seal and drain
the body from inside.
Nothing of beeswax or honey must touch
our skin, but salt and stringent herb---
We want to be as parchment that light
can read through and through, high
among limestone rocks. When the last
breath exhales, we step outside and watch them
seat our corpses at our homestead's threshold,
over a low smoldering fire.
A gong's bronze notes weave
a month-long tent as slowly,
we dry and lengthen, limbs folded
and tucked in. Suspended
like this between sky and earth, we sit
like sculptures nested in sweet
pine boxes, waiting for the flower
that blooms only one night a year.
Museums of contemporary suffering
On one side, the endless travails
of telenovela or pale, wispy-haired
K-drama characters. On the other,
saints and their ladders,
lanced breasts and
severed heads. The anguish
of families separated
at a border; documentation
of the number of times migrant
girls bled or did not bleed
each month. Cells echoing
with the distinct sound
made by children crying.
Shoes and pink
plastic toothbrushes scattered through
the desert. Far away,
marble balconies where
little gods fuck
each other and eat expensive sushi
after closing
some new deal in China.
Warning: don’t watch
the video of the most recent mass
shooting; but if you did,
here is what to do about it.
In response to Via Negativa: Contemplative.
Manifest Destiny (Infinite Loop)
~ erasure poem based on The First Voyage Round the World;
Antonio Pigafetta, 1874
4.
on the
day of the Eleven Thousand Virgins we found
the peaceful sea surrounded by
mountains covered with snow
within the Bay
where in the night we had a great storm
went further on and found a bay
Amongst
us we thought we saw two ships under
all sail, with ensigns spread Afterwards
inside this strait we found two mouths
one of the two
whom we had taken died
the captain-general sent the ship named Victory
the people
were to place an ensign on the summit
with a letter inside a pot
: and he caused a cross to be set upon a small island
in it we found
a good port good waters, wood all of cedar, fish
there is not in the world a more beautiful country
when we wounded this people
immediately afterwards they died
women cried out and tore their hair
for the love of those we had killed
These people
adore nothing, and
go naked
Manifest Destiny (Infinite Loop)
~ erasure poem based on The First Voyage Round the World;
Antonio Pigafetta, 1874
3.
arose this custom in this place of eating
the enemies of each other
; they eat him bi by bit,
they cut him up into pieces,
and eat it
in memory of their enemies.
These kind of people are not
very black, but rather brown
and there are an infinite number of parrots
. There are also pigs
which have their navel on the back
but their
wives they would not give up for anything in the world.
It is to be known it had not rained for two months
before we came , and the day we arrived it began to rain, on
which account the people said we came from
heaven
Manifest Destiny (Infinite Loop)
~ erasure poem based on The First Voyage Round the World;
Antonio Pigafetta, 1874
2.
he who kept first watch, on the
following day
the end of a river
many little villages
from which to enter a port
Near the cape
days where we sojourned
once a day at the hour of
midday, there descends a cloud
a great abundance of water distils
the animals, both domestic and wild,
drink of it
Nevertheless
Manifest Destiny (Infinite Loop)
~ erasure poem based on The First Voyage Round the World;
Antonio Pigafetta, 1874
1.
( illustrious and very
reverend )
permit me to see
and suffer
but also desire
By which
voyage
I wished to go;
therefore by night
a torch of burning wood
a
thick cord of reeds
well soaked in water
two lights
the studding sail
an answering signal
Enrique remembers Melaka before disappearing from known history
“Primus circumdediste me”
~ motto on Juan Sebastián Elcano's coat of arms; 1522
Windless, we languish for days
in the straits. Magallanes is gone:
dead at the hands of warriors
in Mactan. His resting place,
the watery deep; or the Datu's yard,
where doubtless he served as trophy
until they gave what was left of him
to the wild boars, to ants.
Melaka,
you are so close by! Your shadow or shape
almost carries in the humid air. Perhaps
I only imagine so. When going down the hold,
your mingled aromatics enfold my face: buah
pala, buah pelaga from Ambon and Ternate.
Bunga lawang, its small, hard, fragrant
stars; bunga cengkih, the dry nailheads
we crushed with our teeth to sweeten
our breath, coming before the sultan.
And I was curious about how the smooth
pod case bore mark after mark, how I
could trace with my fingernail
the lines that spread
in circles outward.
Melaka, my mouth remembers the veins
of kaffir lime leaves, the nostalgia of duan
pandan. I have learned to say these names in other
tongues; or at least bring the mouth as close
as possible, before the words vanish the way a small
craft can plummet over an edge. In the silence,
we hear only water's pure, untranslatable voice.