Day 343:las madres

In the years between 1976 and 1983
The Argentinean government played abracadabra with
30,000 children
for 7 years
mothers
awoke to the silence of the missing heartbeats
empty beds
broken souls

today
once a week these women carve white circles around the plaza
give the lost a face
the mute a voices
scream the names of their children into the earth that has swallowed them
they call them the mothers of the disappeared
las madres
as if magic had anything to do with these children’s absence
we are no longer crying
our eyes are already whitewashed
you can see how our faces have eroded from the salt
our skin in scared from our stories
and our hearts
look like open caskets
waiting for bodies
our sons have been buried alive
and we hold onto their memories hoping there are not lost to themselves
wonder if they remember our names

the dirty war laasted 7 years of military dictatorship
its 2010
27 years later
but there are still mothers counting down days late at night
trying to picture what their grown sons must look like

Day 342: prophecy

there is a prophecy that states
before the arrival of cook
and european missionaries
that the people of hawaii would find themselves to be like the fishes of the sea
over 200 years later
we are without land
and unable to breathe
it seems
that prophecy doesn't only come from psalms
and white men
in these skies we've had our lives written for centuries
we've seen it coming

Day 341: Red-lining

My mother grew up in Detroit

12 mile, Royal Oak Michigan

in the 50’s

where young children

privileged enough

to be white

played red rover in picket fences

just a pebbles throw from 8 mile rd

Americas most defining city suburb line

Where institutionalize racism learned to procreate

In a time when intergraded neighborhoods were considered unstable

‘Red lining’ was used a restrictive covenant that created an “invisible” barrier that determined where people of color could live and where they could buy homes

city officials drew their maps

and watch the cities sink, into soil

In these streets

The red lines run deep

Like the feet of disporatic peoples flee

and this city seems to be burning from the inside out

the realtors using skin as charcoal

the blacker the faster they burn

the happier the customers

who are not afraid to say “we want no color here”

but it aint just Detroit

Its Philadelphia

New York

Its how our communities turned ghettos began to burn

Best believe it’s the dirty south

Los Angeles

San Francisco

At Stanford

We learn these facts at a distance

In our suburban cul-de-sac bubble

Pretending that the “diversity” in our classrooms

Means we’ve come far

And that far is enough

Its my ethnic studies teacher saying that we don’t grow up knowing that students of color are under represented in university classrooms

Its my white classmates agreeing with the statement

it’s the brown bodies in the room that don’t even need to open their eyes to feel it

It’s the language

How it doesn’t seem to fit right on our tongues

It’s the history books ancients

It’s the process we go through to

Teach our selves to reason this is wrong

Never learning how to fix it

That would be too dangerous

It would darkness the line between us

As if sitting in this filth doesn’t

We play discussions with history

Like we didn’t learn the lesson

And We have read the lynching

How black bodies hung in the deep south

White men

Fronting whiter capes

Playing god

Making angles out of young boys

We watch as their halos fell bellow the neck line

Only gasping at the cracking noise

Of bone

To skin to rope

How something

Other than weight hung in the air those days

It is heat

It is Hate

It is screaming our name

So what happens when in Arizona

Black, Chicano, queer, and any ethnic literature other than white is banned from the classroom to the Furness

How fast are we burning now

When you add the books

When all you can read are white pages

When will there be room for our black and brown bodies in this institution

There is enough white between the lines without having the banish the words

Can you see the smoke rising?

The ink

Hanging

Can you breath through the hypocrisy

Or slice it

The irony

Can you taste it

How in the last two years

Unemployment went from 7 million to 16

While Worldwide, global wealth held by millionaires rose by 19 %

It is 2010

The red lines seems to have only thickened since the 50’s

The government is playing maintenance

While we are burning in the aftermath

Our homes

Are ground zero

No one comes to visit

No one sees anything but dirt

But just beyond 8 mile rd

There is a town

Where young children

Privilege enough to be white

Play red rover

Between picket fences

We can see them from where we hang

It is as if we can almost reach them

From the darkness

Day 340:

she sleeps in the silence
where we've shared dreamed recently
nightmares
the darkness finds u waiting for their enjoyment
we are holding each other tighter now
worried about what letting go means

Day 339: lingle

"While the Legislature each year passes legislation it believes is important, it is my duty as governor to ensure the bills that become law are constitutional, fiscally responsible and in the state’s and the public’s long-term best interest"

apparently our love is either unconstitutional, fiscally irresponsible, or not in good interest for the state.

yes, im making it personal, like it should be.

i dont feel like writing a poem today.

Day 338:

i can fit your heart in my palm

and yet

have never felt it beat against a skin lining other than my chest

you are predictable in that way

i always know where to find your heart

and yet

i havent come to understand its vibrations

so we sit in silence trying to decipher each others heart beats

playing hellen keller with our hands

my palms

strung about your face

your lips vibrating to the words that tangle your tongue

we will sit there

silent

while everyone is watching

and learn to love each other

without

our words

Day 337: BP

light this shit on fire

set stones rumbling backwards to jesus

and eve

we dont have no water

just oil

and the price of living is steep here

so set it all to flames

burns the buildings to ash

finds the beautiful girls

and tell them all that they are loved

before this life ends

its the only control you have

we're just going to go up in flames anyways

holding on to our regrets

singing what we wished we had remembered

hanging on to this fucked up reality

for dear

life

Day 336: hali'a

my sister

born in a time of dying spirits

seems to dance her way to and back from heaven

slings sand to the gods

crying in their condemnation

not one of us understand why we have to die

as many times as we pretend to

there is mystery in the time between breaths

we dont know how to hold on to that

Day 335: bones

they say these bones should be solid

but baby

i want you to make me malleable

bend me backwards over the arch of your chest

let me rest there

folded over

two times over

the world looks hard this way

solid

like how our skin shouldn't be

but

is

Day 334: my organs, your breathe, whistling in the wind

we can fill this car with tasteful regret

how the spit falls our our bodies

when we say things we didn't mean to mean

last night i brush skin with god while you slept

played Russian roulette

with the moon rise

her breath breaking against the ceiling

she has no idea where the pain come from

but its somewhere inside this body

you'll find my organs screaming

waiting for someone to tear them apart

from a distance

it sounds like the hallelujah chorus

whistling

at sunrise

Day 333: simple

she understands that some nights

i want her in my skin

that my hands

wander

cuz im just trying to feel all of her at one time

love

makes things simple that way

we take our time learning the trade

splinting our skin

looking for a place to be beautiful

making ourselves at home

somewhere sacred

like

skin

Day 332: upright

levelheaded

leaving

find you staring down the sun

we are waiting in the wings

pacing the stage pre curtain call

shatter my skin for the sunlight

find yourself in the cracks left behind

you are every inch of me thats broken

thats torn

that does the wrong thing in the right time

we destroy the parts of ourselves

left behind

hoping when we are out of eachothers sight

we might start to put the pieces back togetgher

teach eachother

how to be up

right

Day 331:through the static

"My great history lesson began the day after my grandmothers funeral"

when days turned from god to ocean

where we found solace hiding our skins in the sky

pretending the atmosphere could hold our dreams and aspirations

but the air is already to heavy with salt to hold anything else

we wait for sunrize

during darkness

slinging our stories to the stars

pretending the ones that shine

are listening

through

the static

Day 330: day dump

tel e something i havent heard before

like the dirty is falling

our sky is turning translucent

that your eyes

your eyes are pebbles

its something i'll remmeber

like your boobs might be in the way

but i want them there anyways

these are the things

the mistakes we make

build us a human

with a body like a siren

and a voice

like an hour glass

mold her skin from the sky

and hold our your heart to her chest

do we beat the same still?

even if she is miraculous

and i am plain?

Day 329: excuses

the skin on the back of my neck is rough

black burnt rubber

breaks

we wait there for answers and warmth

coming into morning with a sunrize

Day 328: Neves

there is a man

in the heart of keaukaha

who has a voice like sandpaper

he breaks tradition off the backs of children in song

he's a story there

to tell you

about your father

or somebodys grandmother

somebody fogotten

but you look like her

she has your hair

and your smile

she's got everything thats been forgotten

for a seacon you can feel yourself in her skin

he will tell you

her name is eliza

Osorio

she,

a kamakawiwoole

was your great grandmother

this is why we have tradition

this is what family is for

Day 327:clara k. Kay

a woman told me today that my grandmother had a slight stutter

and i nodded as if i knew

trying to convince myself i hadn't already forgotten

or that maybe

some woman knows my grandmother better than me

the truth is

this woman

who i loved

love

had a life before me

and my life that followed perishes in comparison

there are so many things i will never know

the late night hawaiian language rehearsals

how her voices rounded itself around every syllable in the lords prayer

but i know how she held me with the tenor in her breath

how the cold volcano wind was her voices

pacing itself over my skin

in goosebumps

i remember these things

knowging that there will be nothing new to commit to memory

at least not from these eyes

but maybe tomorrow

someone else will tell me something special

something forgotten

that reminds me again

that granny isnt a memory

she was a living breathing goddess

who's arms stretched much farther than the small of my back

Day 326: closer

getting on a stage feels like swimming

some days

you cant tell whether or not you are breathing or choking

but you know

either way

your breath is thick

and theres someone who can hear you in the distance

wondering if you are alright

trying to get closer to you

for just a moment

to see if you need to be saved.

Day 325:a heart

when the salt settles

hard and sharp at our feet

i wonder how the air will learn to carry it again

like we've forgotten how we like to hold each others hand tight

yours under mine

mine wrapping each finger around your palm

its like a science no one should forget

but sometimes we do

like sometimes ridding a bike is hard

sometimes you have to remember not to forget

sometimes you spend the night wondering about pointless things

and sometimes

you remember

none of this matters

when love is the strongest memory

and a heart

never forgets

Day 324:lemonade

i've taken this space

made lemonade

i spray it on the inside of my intense

and watch as my stomach collapses on itself

sinking in the acidity

waiting for some sugar

or water

Day 323: 40-love

there's a way you sleep

against the curve of my chest

in the middle of early morning

those are the moments i love you the most

when my breath breaks off the back of your neck

how it always taste different when it returns

to the back of my throat

thats where the i loves you comes from

the times i wake you up at 3 am just to kiss you and call you beautiful

my love,

you hold my skin like the sunrise

and i'll wait for you to awake in my arms every morning

for as long as you'll let me

playing tennis with my breath against the small of your back

tonight you are winning

im still caught on love

Day 322:the way you say goodbye

the way you say goodbye

touches me in my sleep

i can feel your fingertips some mornings in my tears when i am strong enough to cry

sometimes i keep them coming just to feel you longer

remember what you caring felt like

i've been trying to understand lately what forever means

but its nothing i can hold here

in this empty space

where everything that seems to stay leaves

and everything that seems upright

is really shattered

and all the hearts melt into each other

there is nothing to hold here but on

and holding that way

the way people wait when they look upright but are really leaving

that way hurts

hurts like being shattered

and trying to stay

and the language

all the language is backwards

and none of the words fit just right

so our mouths explode

trying to make room for the tears thats dont come unless they already left

it here where i realized that forever is nothing

at least not something without you

but remember

im in the space where all the mistakes hover

stay

and everyone who shatters

leaves

and everyone who leaves looks upright

and im here in this empty space

waiting for forever

waiting for you

thinking about a place

where everything is whole

and maybe not so upright

but

its

so

beautiful

Day 321: remembering santa cruz

girls in santa cruz

woman better

take pledges of celibacy and wear them like badges

like girl scouts

across their chest

stick their breast out tight

showing you what must not be touched

or thought of

the rest of us

sit back and laugh at their ridiculousness

there seems to be something in the water

we havent drank yet

Day 320: its been longer than you think

tonight seems like the right night to miss you

its 58 degrees without wind

so its barely comfortable in bed alone

but its the kinda night i'd hold you tight anyways

i cant see the moon from my window

its too bright

but by morning

ill be able to feel the sunrise

ill be able to feel the light side of the bed curl into itself in your absence

you havent been here is so long

it seems like never from here

but i know

thats just the distance and time talk

cuz i've held you in these sheets

your back at my chest

i've felt my breathe break against your neck

and i watched you leave

without looking back

without even a second glance

it feels like that night again

here

where the moon doesnt shine

my bed and i
Alone
Together

just waiting for the sunrise

Day 319: colonization

the language doesnt fit

we cut our tongues

mold them like sons

we try to learn how to forget

they say its better

easier

fold over our palms

into prayers to a god who never learned our names

while forgetting the millions who gave us their own

the are the ways we are taught to kill ourselves

tears our own husk from our hearts

anyways who says colonization end anywhere

before the planet is destroyed

never

opened

their

eyes

Day 318: icahtting at 3 am

im sitting at my computer

its almost 3

im studying to the sound of my van

and im watching you sleep

nothing seems to matter other than the space between your breaths

my attention seems to rest there

waiting to return

quicker than i am meant to.

Day 317: finals week

a full class cannot drink

an empty glass cannot see

the schools trying to make me blind and thirsty at the same time

we've got teachings playing the color line like red rover

and i'm slinging my skin inbetween their motivations.

nothing seems to be working

no one seems to be learning

everyone just looks frustrated.

Day 316:the mooon rise

When we fight

its like my skin doesn't fit right

my eyes are too small

they slide around in their sockets blind

my nails

dig themselves into my skeleton

the hairs of the back of my neck grow in reverse

tormenting my vocal chords

everything in me

is disrupting another part of me

nothing agrees

its all anger

and frustration

and pain

until

something finds itself changing

the moon somehow shows itself in the darkness

there finally seems to be a way out

at least we can see it now

whether or not we reach it,

thats another poem entirely

Day 315: growing

the boxes

will not pack themselves

sometimes i wish they would

it would make goodbyes so much easier

i seem to have grown a lot this year

from a suitcase and 4 boxes

to

two suitcases

and too many boxes to count at the moment

im wondering where all this crap comes from

and where it goes when im gone

when its stored

does it hold the memories fresh

or are all these pictures soon to be cobwebbed

rat eaten

cockroach pooped

will they forget the way you touched

tasted

against my skin

how the first date sunk into my pores like hot air

how the last one felt the same

will my sheets remember the tears from our breakup

or how we cuddled the week after

trying to harness some kind of closure that we could take with us

will my pillow forget how i said i moved on

and lied

to your phone

your email

and your face

and how you believed me and followed the fake leader facade

and how i tried to be happy for you

but instead

hated myself

-

i want to pack myself up in these boxes

say goodbye to the fresh air

and grow

the way my possessions did

this year.

Day 314: toothpaste

i remember the taste of your lips on my skin

how it would explode spontaneously

everything seems to linger

the smell of my neck on your breath

the imprint your kisses leave on my skeleton like fingerprints

each one seems original in the same way

leaves the same kind of taste behind

the kind that gets stuck on the back of your tongue

like toothpaste

how in changes the way the world feels, looks, tastes

you have that kind of affect

i guess