Tuesday, August 7, 2018

Try again

To the words
she says
The first time around
Watch how they build brick roads for your departure
They are Sirens
You should take notice of

Pay attention to how
You are offered opportunities
One after the other
To take cover
And hold yourself as the tender thing you are
Pay attention to the way you choose to refuse
How you
Woman of rock and lava formation
will shed skin after skin
Until you are the very shape of open

So that when you are left
With the same questions, you’ve asked yourself before
Wondering, where this distance come from?
Or how you arrived in this barren landscape
You will have the answers
You will not need to beg at her ankles for explanation
You will not shrink until you evaporate
You will know
You did not listen,

Take the time,
This time.  to heal
And then, try

Tuesday, July 10, 2018

One more song

How did you become
This secret song 
Afraid of it’s own melody 
What was this falling 
Out and apart 
That frayed your edges 
So far to blur 
you could no longer see
what was inside, out and in between 

How did you 
Make becoming 
A quiet prayer of forgetting 
Of slipping away into your own shadow

i am looking 
for that still place where the music waits 
for me, to breathe her into the morning
it is the only way iʻve ever known how to pray
i am looking 
for the woman i was
who once built a monument in the name of maybe
who was willing to fall for possibility 
i am looking 

won’t you sit here with me
watch the notes bounce against the rafters
catch them in the corners of your mouth 
let them dance across your lips
with me 

won’t you
sit here
rest your breath against my palms
just for one more song 

Sunday, July 8, 2018

Moving Water

To hide in the ʻehu of someone else’s love 
Overflowing over me
I wonder: Is it the same
As hiding from the salt I have inside of me
as refusing to feel my own 
burning sea

A question to ask yourself every morning: 
Given the chance
What kind of kai would you be?
Would you be the open 
The ripping tide?
The dark and deep blue 
so blue it has its own name?
Would you be the calm,
The quiet, 
The daring rough,

Would you be always moving moving moving 
Chasing the horizon
Or would you 
Stay here
Stick to the walls of this cliff called fear 

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.


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

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