Jocine Velasco When I was moving to America as a child, my family and I had to strip naked and bend down in front of a state agent at the embassy in the Philippines as part of a standard immigration screening procedure. I moved to the Southeast in 1996 during the summer Olympics. Before that, my family burned our trash down a slope behind our backyard in the Philippines. I write poetry about the totality of the institution and the solace of our armed joy.