Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Day 343:las madres

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

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

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

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

Monday, June 28, 2010

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


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

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Day 340:

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

Saturday, June 26, 2010

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.

Friday, June 25, 2010

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
while everyone is watching
and learn to love each other
our words

Thursday, June 24, 2010

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

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

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

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

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
like how our skin shouldn't be

Monday, June 21, 2010

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
at sunrise

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Day 333: simple

she understands that some nights
i want her in my skin
that my hands
cuz im just trying to feel all of her at one time
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

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Day 332: upright

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

Friday, June 18, 2010

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
the static

Thursday, June 17, 2010

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?

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Day 329: excuses

the skin on the back of my neck is rough
black burnt rubber
we wait there for answers and warmth
coming into morning with a sunrize

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

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
a kamakawiwoole
was your great grandmother
this is why we have tradition
this is what family is for

Monday, June 14, 2010

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
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

Sunday, June 13, 2010

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.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

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

Friday, June 11, 2010

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

Thursday, June 10, 2010

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

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

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
and everyone who shatters
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

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

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

Monday, June 7, 2010

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
where the moon doesnt shine
my bed and i
just waiting for the sunrise

Sunday, June 6, 2010

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
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

Saturday, June 5, 2010

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.

Friday, June 4, 2010

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.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

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
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

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

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
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
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.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

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