Monday, June 19, 2017

Day 10: I will

slide back inside of me
take up all that space
you left
behind in me
slide back
i will hold you
until every moon sets
until every promise is broken
and written across my chest
i will
i said
and you did

Sunday, June 18, 2017

Day 9: Hōkūleʻa

When she comes home
remember your kūpuna
remember the deep dark pō they emerged from
when she comes home
sing out all her songs
say her name out loud
make promises you intend to keep
when she comes home
welcome her
with open arms
sing until your lungs fall out
dance until you are only rhythm and memory
when she comes home
thank all your gods for bringing her back to you.



Saturday, June 17, 2017

Day 8: You believed

All these women
you loved to the vein
& Cherished to the bone

All these women
you pulled mountains out of
the sea for

All these women
you believed
deserved the world out of you

How come
you were never one of them?


Friday, June 16, 2017

Day 7: Beautiful Women

Beautiful women, 
Who shatter the glass shelter of my body
who hold and see without examining
who come with a knowing 

Beautiful women 
who stay 
or leave me
better than they found me

Beautiful women
who recognize the ocean inside of me
long before it starts falling out
Who bring me kindling to keep this fire threatened by my own ocean burning 

Beautiful women
i will always 
come back 
for more. 

Thursday, June 15, 2017

Day 7: Pretty Girl

Pretty girl
the one who come up to the glass of my body 
Who sees a museum of artifacts to marvel at 
who is here for the performance of my vulnerability. 

Pretty girl 
Loves my microphone chest 
Lusts over my salt
hungers for the tenor of my voice

Pretty girl
With your straight ridge back 
And your lightning eyes 
Ive spent too many years culling your attention

Pretty Girl
i am not coming back
for more

Wednesday, June 14, 2017

Day 6:

When she gives you silence.

Listen.


Tuesday, June 13, 2017

Day 5: West, Sleeping at Last

Facing East
We watched the night swallow a feral moon
only ea between us
only fragments of a memory you’ve almost lost
only you and me and all the stones we carry

the words on the radio reminded  
everywhere we’ve been
and all the love we’ve collected
and discarded

“weʻll be just fine”
Say it again and again
Until the words lose their shape
Until the syllables rip inside out
Until your mouth is overflowing with river water

Find me here again
Looking West
waiting for mahina to return
calling out prophecies I haven’t earned
saying your name
to myself
to you
until iʻve forgotten the difference

Monday, June 12, 2017

Day 4: Kūnihi ka Mauna

Stories caught in a cage of history
erasure, trauma's common cousin
rears her ugly head
i am standing somewhere beyond the page
asking for permission to
enter.

Sunday, June 11, 2017

Day 3: Muted Instrumentals

I was young on the first night I came to the melody of your body
A tone deaf amateur marveling from the center of a symphony
I wanted to be your amphitheater
But my hands were too muddled and muddied
I never leaned to stack the walls of this fortress properly
I did not deserve the company of the monument men built in your shade
I spent 4 years hiding in the shadow of the shrine of your desire
I was not vast enough to hold all your water
I was not deep enough to quench your thirst
It was only a matter of time until I buckled under the weight
Of trying to feed you without going dry

It was not a surprise when you left
Every time
But it was a shattering
It was a tsunami
It was an eclipse
You were the sun
And I was the cold side of the moon
Cast into the silver sea of the universe
Forgetting my reasons to swim

So I waited
And waited
And waited
For your rescue
For your embrace
For your return
Slinging fists into the rock walls you built to keep me out

And when you didn’t
When I was your second thought
Your backup plan
Your muted instrumental
The lover to the love of all your lives
I wrote books for the ways I knew that I was too small
I destroyed a city for every memory that tempted me to believe otherwise
And cast every plan I had in the back of my head out into the breaking waves
I sat in the vibration of futures shattering against the shore and walked away

Now, I am older and more vast
But I am not so sure I believe  
That any ocean of mine
Will ever be enough to feed
again



Saturday, June 10, 2017

Day 2: When the wave breaks, she creates

When the Wave Breaks, She Creates

I am a woman of feelings
 To live this life in full pigment
is to swallow a million hues of light
is to know a thousand different names and shades of darkness
My body is this moana of language
A tidal swell breaking
called every day into the moku’s sharp cliff
Come and watch the mess I make
Watch the way I crack and call it a performance of strength
Call me beautiful,
as you walk away.

I have been feeling a lot about what it means to receive
To call another body close
To see her tones and to know them as your own
To say, only what the body can
Through borrowed breaths and a stolen glance
To be intentional with the way your wave breaks across the surface of her cliffs
To know a magnetism beyond duress

I have been feeling a lot lately
In this body made of water
In this heart culled from the sea
My dark night pōuli
My dense lipo and shimmering ʻeleʻī
This bruised pōpolo
This hua that sprouts in salt

I have been feeling what it means
To look into a woman’s eyes and ask for her ancestors names
To dive into her pō and inhale deep
To learn to give thanks
For all the languages her body makes

I have been feeling a lot lately about what is left behind
All the times I have been left
behind
And what it means to try
To hold and carry
Rather than tangle and choke the shores that come close
I have been feeling a lot lately
Which for this ocean means:
I have been breaking and spilling
Diving and rising

But today
I am not afraid of my undertow
I do not fear my wreckage
I lust to be undone by your shore
Because I am also a woman who believes
That there are other women of feelings
Who were fished out of the same sea
Who lets her crystal ocean fall and shatter
And calls it creation
Over and over
And I hunger to dive in the waves her heart makes
To be close and hold out my greatest gifts of intimacy
And not be turned away




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Friday, June 9, 2017

Day 1: When she gives you Tobacco

When she gives you tobacco
Rub it between thumb and index
Set it ablaze with your fire stained skin
Watch the smoke kiss the sky
Promise not to let your flames burn out again

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Reach in

Do not be a body made of hands. Do not reach out to hold everything around you. Holding cannot keep what will not be kept. Do not try to carry what will not be carried. It will only make you heavy with your body made of empty hands, holding nothing. Reach in. Do not show your sleeves made of hearts. Do not show what you cannot get back. Do not be disappointed. Do not be what disappoints. Do not. Do not. Do. not. be. this. way.

Anymore.

Friday, October 7, 2016

After you

Before you
I was a never ending
Ream of words

I was mornings unfolding to greet the day in language
In metaphor
In the rhythm of my thoughts bouncing off my keyboard

After you
I am never quite sure
Of the right word to say 
I am terrified of paper
I am apprehensive of anything proposing its own permanence
I am looking for exit signs
In all the pretty girls eyes

I am looking for you
And the wind
In everything I do

After you
I am forgetting the names to my favorite songs
I am turning the melodies inside out
Pulling the words out from the spine
slow and one at a time

After you
I am without
Everything I thought was
I am no language
I am foreign tongue
I am tone deaf 
I am too quiet
I am removed from my hands
I am full of salt

after you
I am not mine

Anymore

Friday, July 24, 2015

Love letter to Pōhaku:

Inspired by Noʻukahauʻoli Revilla 

4 to fill the mouth
to stop the hunger
from foaming over
2 for each palm
ʻiliʻili keeping rhythm
craddled between tight fingers
thousands for the ahu
the paia
 – the ala nui

1 million ʻai pōhaku emerging from ʻāina and ocean
protest passed carefully between generations

chewing rocks for water