The sermon you preach cannot be heard,
Garbled and mocked by the desert wind.
The cacti do not care to listen;
They have no ears, so they cannot hear
The love you talk about is empty;
The brotherhood you mouth is phony.
For you to preach justice is foolish.
How can you when you do not practice it?
The truth is, you are a walking lie;
For you to speak of truth is falsehood.
You lead a double life, that makes you
Portrait of monkish duplicity.
(When cassocked perverts
Robbed me of my dignity,
I turned to the Lord.
I did not send them to jail.
My silence bottled them up.)
From Getxo and Other Poems (New York: 2013)