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1

At the Diario de Manila, Teodoro the cajista

Was always missing the majuscule K, and replacing it

 

From the box of the newly imported fonts from Italy.

It was the newest version from the cast of Señor Bodoni.

 

Which was strange since the letter seldom occurred

In the lengua de los colonizadores, except when the words

 

Were borrowed from the Greeks. We needed it

For the kilos of sugar, kilometraje or kimono.

 

We needed it for the changing orthography

Of the Tagalog articles of Don Isabelo de los Reyes.

 

But it was getting worse. Language was changing

Itself outside the printeria. A new language

 

Was coming out of mouths of both Indio and

Ilustrado, a language spoken and understood

 

All over the islands. And ideas subversive

And filibustero were being unloaded from the barcos,

 

Rigged merchant ships, privateers and schooners

From Cuba and Mexico, the whole Archipelago, and

 

Whole sections of type cases, crates of other typefaces

Were vanishing during the two-and-a-half hour siestas.

 

2

When told, the friar seethèd.

Not just one of the Devil’s

Letters the dolts needed, but

Three all at once! Filibusteros!

A bleeding trinity, por Dios!

The audacity! Calling

Themselves “The Highest, the Most

Esteemed!” Bobos! Erejes!

 

Los Tres K’s! Caramba, what

Have they gotten into their

Empty heads? That they can rise

Against Madre España?

An mana patay-gutom!

Can they even stand up? Can

Their wobbly knees carry them!

Just shut down the damn Diario!

3

And so there was even a fourth K

As the language grew itself. The Highest,

The Most Esteemed Sons of the People

Were fighting for Kalayaan from the yoke

Of the foreign lord, which was also the name

Of the imprenta they chose, newly risen,

Though still sub rosa, from the dead Diario.

 

Bodoni’s K was mainly Greek to Español.

Marcelo said it first, Pepe picked it up,

After he couldn’t find the Tagalog

For freiheit as he translated Schiller’s

William Tell, but, as he wrote Paciano,

Marcelo had found it for him in his

Translation of El Amor Pueblo.

 

It was capital to the thought of Emilio,

Whom Andres had seen as a younger

Version of himself, a man after his own

Heart who could write a Cartilla that would

Extol the Rising Sons: “A life not devoted

To a great and sacred purpose is a tree

Wthout shade, if not a poisonous weed.”

Minerva p.2
Cajista2.jpg
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