the divide merging 2o/2o
by
tofer perkins
“We are here to awaken to our illusion of separateness.” Fearless Soul, Thich Nhat Hanh
I. December 2o2o: Flying into Santiago, a Summer of Discontent
On the queer fire machine
Moving into darkness,
Sun dropping behind us,
Silver moon with one bright star above us
(Who knows if it’s the north one)–
All this like the oft chasm on either side of emotion & thought.
The whirring jet engines
& children of the earth, terrícolas,
In the sky.
I hug them,
Distant like the home videos
Snapped during childhood.
Pachamama, Mama, Pachamama
& the Mapuche poet David Aniñir declares,
“Nunca se fue la dictadora,
Sólo se había puesto
Traje y corbata.”
& the people chant:
El patriarcado es un juez,
que nos juzga por nacer
y nuestro castigo
es la violencia que no ves.
[ya ves, x2]
Es feminicidio
Impunidad para el asesino
Es la desaparición
Es la violación
Y la culpa no era mía, ni dónde estaba, ni cómo vestía (x4)
El violador eras tú (x2)
Son los pacos (policías)
Los jueces
El estado
El presidente
El estado opresor es un macho violador (x2)
El violador eras tú
El violador eres tú
Pachamama, Mama, Pachamama, I’m
coming home.
I’m coming home.
III. Leaving Calama: Smoky Skies
What we hear in another language
May sound like words we already know, as if music is an idea.
One of the joys & frustrations of encountering the remote, the strange,
La esencia de la mar, & mi esencia de alegría–& what
Residue from fires far in Australia paint the Chilean skies fog yellow,
Quickening the breath of all earthlings, on display the latest development
In our love affair with fire. Prometheus’ mischief realized!
Face evil, hombres pérfidos en traje y corbata, with composure in treachery,
Climate catastrophe & you, oh trickster coyote,
On the fire machine, my complicity, descending into Santiago...
All from the vibrating vision of the yellow fog sky.
Lo dejamos en el aire, como siempre.
A News Headline: half a billion animals dead this season alone–more to come–
More than the total U.S. human population, &, yet, there will still be deniers of
Climate catastrophe & of the trickster myth.
Civilizations come & go. Ours is no different.
& in this moment I can feel my fiery neurons losing the connectivity battle, fatigued.
Earthlings like water scrapping the land,
Pachamama, I trust you with my love,
You are me, & I am you,
where will you go once the land has burned?
How will you go on once the soil yields no more?
VII. La tierra–a Return–El violador eres tú
“None are more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe they are free.”
Goethe.
The land has deep scars & the air is heavy with fire,
Rain, rivers, oceanic battery acid.
From a greed-driven, image-fed culture,
A country pays for its convenience with the help of paranoia.
Sanity & madness: just a thin faultline.
We’re on the move, & it’s ecological.
Terrícolas, earthlings like water scraping the land, the air,
Zipping up & zipping down like the oft chasm between thought, emotion, & action.
El violador eres tú, o soy yo?
Feel you, the presence of scarred & charred Planet Earth, Pachamama,
& the dogs are on the move!
VIII. June 2o23: (INNER) DRAPES of MEXICO CITY: Nobody Is an Island
Like a bluebird, I wonder if I want to taste this city, its soil, its water, the air.
What is this stuff?
The blue veil of the sky
Envelops us
Protecting from the dark coldness
Of infinite sweet space.
Insight is always available,
&, Oh, light blue sky,
Even when we cover you in our frothy pollutants,
I love you, as a flourishing breeze.
Your qualities pervade even the milky
Midnight blue I love,
An ocean of tranquility,
Cultivating brilliant equanimity, equanimous clouds.
No, not lullaby. No, not looking away.
A milky grey orb, a locus to see through
the darker more penetrating hues.
Today is solstice
For the year
Only for today
We harvest our space-time threshold.
QUOTE AS:
Christopher Perkins. The Divide Merging 2o/2o. The Living Commons Collective Magazine. N.3, September 2025. p. 156-161
