• Author



    Jocine Velasco

    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.

    Out Here Tonite and Living Will

    “The rich may never have owned taste/ Yet we still stole that back from them”

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