By TOMAS TALLEDO
I. We eat and drink after ambushes
The scene is a picture
in the cozy kitchen of roselyn pelle command:
partaking upland rice, salted
fish, tangy herbs, sweet lips wine
while packs of M-14 bullets
supplies are under makeshift table.
The lessons of Shaanxi 1935, of Madrid 1937,
of Dien Biên Phu 1954 haunt subdued conVERSations
imaging bourgeois
pessimisms of Pomeroy in his Forest, Taruc
and his tiger and Scalice mounting
trotskyite hobby horse.
We paused in studious smile
when they lit up the evening
flares for the anniversary.
Women, younglings,
rivers will sing our Oath.
Again, tomorrow.
II. Go take care
Wherever path do you trudge,
go take care.
New protracted paths reveal
that zigzag is shortest route.
Though rain pours heavy
and cold, just get on moving.
The backpack isn’t heavy,
and the masses are waiting.
Expect warmest greetings:
“Oh, what a joyful welcome!”
III. The forest is a poem
The thick greeneries
that unwelcome marauders,
embrace password keepers
who gently hold long arms
to gauge ashen sky and
far verdant mountains.
The cadence starts from
roots then slowly moving
into buds and fruits.
To reach the clearings needs
long breaths after all
enjambments. Padayon!
Upon the observation point,
quiet stays while on elation.
