Friday, September 30, 2011

Day 801: to the women who love the poet in me (revision)


you will revel in the way I say your name
how the weight bounces off the concret
you will wait for me to open your doors
to sing you to sleep
to fling songs into your body as your pulse under me
you will call it sexy
I, will not know any other way to keep myself from falling into you completely
I will keep singing

you let your hand fall just a little farther from you body
begging me to hold you
and will
i will kiss your cheek
your wrist
your lips
when i kiss your forehead
a part of me will jump through my body and take home in yours
you will not feel my entry
but i will feel my own absence
something about it will leave me feeling empty
so I will keep singing

you will watch me on tv
on youtube
on your phone
at a friends house
when I gain the confidence to walk across the room to introduce myself
and extend my hand
you will say you know me
I will be surprised and not understand what you mean
But excited at the possibility that maybe
You were that spirit I felt the night before
On stage
you will see me perfected
the parts of me i practice in front of mirrors
only what is left after iʻve been cut and edited
you will see me then
stripped of all my human
and you will want to be apart of the masterpiece
of the story
want me to be your introduction to women who dress and sing like me
want me to hold you
because my hands are softer than your boyfriends
and i know how to make your body move right
you will want me then
and i will let you
Take a piece of every poem
Call it your own
When you say
That every time I read a love poem that you wish it were about you
I will write you your own
You will be terrified and will not listen
Not hear the words
Just see my body moving on stage
Call it anything other than honest
You will be wrong
I will be hollow

when i fall in love
you will think you are lucky
that you have caught the uncatchable
That I have written my last love poem for the beautiful things I see
you will think you are special
that you can be the one to tie my hands behind my back
make me yours
you will only be partially wrong
you will think you love me because your heart drowns when you think of the tsunamis behind my voice
but you will not be ready to see me after the curtains close
when the imperfect parts find their way home
when i am not so memorized and refined
you will wonder why you came to me in the first place
you never wanted human
you wanted magic
the flashing lights
the stage presence
the tears iʻve shed on stage

you will call my vulnerability sexy
but only when you are drinking it from the other end of my microphone
you will not want to stay and listen through the night
not know why i need to be told
what your love means
you will not understand when i need you to count the ways
over and over
until its etched into the center of my chest
how I will ask you again before you are finished
you will not know how I wait for you to reach our your hand a little further from your body
how i will need to held every once and a while
need someone imperfect to call me beautiful
to see me
in all the worst lights
when the words don’t come out right
and nothing rhymes
and my hands are too heavy
and you are not rising under me

I will need you to try
To look into
my ugly
my insecure
my love
my human
and maybe
and maybe
And maybe
still want
to stay the night

Thursday, September 29, 2011

DAy 800: What i didnt do this summer

there was no morning after
no stale taste to turn bitter on my tongue
that had already long faded
my body had forgotten your touch
your breath
the weight of your palms
resting on my back
there was only a phone call
10 digits to dial
a conversation
when i heard your voice drop
the way it had before
you did not love me

i ripped the posters from my walls
the reminders
the pictures and the smiles
bleached every sheet you ever slept on
trying to remove your scent
i fell in love with beautiful women
tied their smiles to my skin
promised myself
a smile was enough to take me into the morning
every morning
i played chicken with time
wagering my ability to sleep in this silence
hoping iʻd wake with some kind of humanity

i told my sister not to fall in love
wrote poems about moving on
wrote poems about loving other women
loved other women
kissed other women
when i missed you
i would call
other women

i went to my parents wedding
realized love could last
that since ours didnt
i wasnt enough
or i did something
so i drank my weight in mamosas
remembered to myself how the last time i had one
was when you broke my heart to bring in the new year
it tasted the same
like the rust was clearing from my chest
i didnt like the way its weight hovered over my tongue
so i puked on my church lawn
had to be carried home
wondered how many people were ashamed to know me
as the girl who couldn't keep you around

i did not stop writing poems
about you
i just stopped thinking they were worth
stopped thinking i was worth anything
so i let myself seep into the skin of beautiful women
i let you seep into the skin of unworthy men
but maybe they were worthy-er than i
i let myself believe it was for the best
maybe it was

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Day 799: why

you are the kind of woman who leaves me body barren
the kind who will not stay
even when i beg
i find myself scraping through the parts of your breath that are left behind
how much of you was ever really here
i want to whisper things
but you will not hear me
i try to pull you closer
you cannot feel me
will not stay
will not stay
cannot stay

but why?

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Day 798: water

you are water
i love you
but i cannot hold you
i know you
only by the way you fall through me
wash over me
in episodes
like waves
only in the way i know you absences leaves me
dry and pulled
like gravity
like a tide
somehow controlled by a moon
but most nights
it is too foggy in san fransisco to see anything but black
the seasons are changing
the only good that will bring is rain
more water to remind me of how iʻve failed to keep every single one of my promises
to every single one of my hearts
how they are strung across this country like lanterns
a constant reminder of how thin iʻve been stretched
how resistant i am to planting roots
how every time iʻve tried
iʻve been planted too deep for anyone to see me glowing still

Monday, September 26, 2011

Day 797:

split me horizontal
lay me belly up
on the sidewalk
watch me dry
you can pass by
leave me to be changed
when you come back
i will be smaller than you remembered
but beautiful as ever
i will still want you
but wont remember
the wanting will be stuck somewhere under my skin
you will have to find it
a success it would be for the two of us
if you can stand the search

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Day 796: please

do not let me fall
back into you
not now
when i have done so well at letting go
at building these walls
at this baracade game
at saying no
telling the ones i love
these will be no bells
no whistles
no return of the blue eyed masterpiece
that we are through
and i am healthy
kind of
do not let me be weak
do not let me imagine
it will take me nowhere but back
and do nothing but break
and i have worked so hard recently at being whole
and without mistake
full of potential
of promise
so please
do not cradle me when i trip
rather remind me why we severed ourselves
remind me of the distance
and the lies we both made
and the boy and girl we both have the potential to hurt or heal
how i want to love something that wont shatter
how i know that cannot be us
please do not
let me

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Day 795: muscle memory

the muscleʻs memory is magnetic
will learn for you
if you allow it
to be precise in its movement
will store information when you become too lazy for practice
and when you return
will welcome you enough to show just what you once had
remind you
that not even magnets are forever
that the pull of time spent away will weaken your trade
but some3how there is space for improvement
there is a venue for picking up where you left off
moving forward in time
taking memory from past
into present

Friday, September 23, 2011

Day 794: college

the beer
will leave its stain
on everything it can
my shirt
your shorts
our hands
stickiness left as a reminder
that something exciting
much like a tornado passed through
we promised ourselves nights light these
they are gifts from the gods of homework and the bullshit of gerʻs
now we built camaraderie out of our tolerance
mark our names on the walls
anything that might help us remember
that we were here

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Day 793: gravity

"I do not need to write you a reminder"
the pages iʻve carved with your name already should be enough
that even when time, space and distance are all agaisnt us
is holding it down
for loves across the world
making us feel like we are almost in the same place
by the way our hearts drop during conversation
the way we are the opposite ends of a metronomes pendulum
the way we know of the others presence without ever colliding
our connection is the magic of physics
except some nights after i fall asleep you disappear
and when i cant find you
under my sheets
i wonder
who taught you to levitate away
and how do i
do the same

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Day 792: transit

burn me to your wings
i want to take flight on the flight of your disaster
hang myself to your gravity
and your resistance to all other laws
this is the kinda of poem we dont write cuz the shit aint ready
and it dont make sense
but you are flying over the pacific
so something has to come out of you
even in this darkness
you cannot stop trying to write through it
who else will remember for you
how to finish
what you have begun

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Day 791: waiting

i cannot feel the surface of my leg
it has hardened for the 7 hours of drilling
but theres something under the skin burning
i think its my grandmother caught behind the eyes of her pueo

tomorrow iʻm going back to cali
today my roots are burning
it seems so fitting
and yet i wish
things could just get easier as the time passes
the weight is heavier
your back is weaker
and the walk is much longer
im wondering how long i will carry this alone
until i sacrifice my pride
and curiosity
and ask someone to stay
only if she is willing to break in the morning
only if she can see herself in my reflection
only if she is willing to keep me

Monday, September 19, 2011

Day 790: what it means to leave

every year
leaving gets harder
maybe its the uneasiness of tomorrows
the fact that there are less to come than we can ever anticipate
growing older means
growing more comfortable with morality
or maybe its something else entirety

maybe its the scent of old tshirts being stored away again
wondering if they will be here when you return
or the look on your sisters faces
how one seems disappointed almost betrayed by your absence
the way you felt about your broterʻs
and the other
the other just wishes you would hold her more often
that you wouldve taken her to the movie like you promised
or that restaurant
or that park
how loving her
the way you do
means lying
and yelling
and pushing away
and yet
every time you leave
she hugs you like you couldnt be anything less than superman
how she forgives your every flaw and weakness in that moment
how you will spend you last night at home clinging to her
cuz she asks you if she can sleep in your bed
because somehow she knows
that tonight you feel empty
and you need someone to pretend that they need you so you can hold yourself up with their presence

maybe its the unbalanced luggage
how nothing seems to fit
you always have too much you arent willing to let go of yet
everything is heavy
and its hard to carry alone
but you fly coach
and the fairs are too steep to bring anyone else along for the ride
so you take this journey solitary

or maybe this time is special
maybe its the empty room thats waiting
without the girl
and the possibility of reuniting
the ability to be forgiven and forgive
maybe its the moving on
the practice of it all
how three years seems so long
until you think about the decades you promised to eachother
instead you just feel like a failure
maybe its that
there is no chance that you will run into her if you spend your afternoons drinking water at her favorite coffee shop
or visit friends in her building
maybe it is that this time you arent returning
you are just leaving

maybe its the stuffed dog that wont fit in any of your bags
from a girl whoʻs name that sometimes still gets stuck on your tongue
that carries the same name as someone you are trying not to think of
cuz theres another
one you love
whoʻs heart is folded neatly in your palm
and you are trying so hard to do right by her
and yourself
maybe you are wondering is he (the dog) should be left behind
but worry that you will fall apart without something to hold

maybe its the growing old
the uncertainty of it all
the fact that there are less tomorrows to come than we can ever anticipate
maybe its knowing what we do not know
and forgetting how to be blissful
in your ignorance

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Day 789: Haiku

18 days, 18
hours, 26 minutes
21 seconds

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Day 788: this poem is not called routine

there arent many things i do
every day
like ritual
other than those that have to do with hygiene
and writing poetry
because ts important
and necessary
but you
have worked your way into my routine
with your smile
and lips
and the curl of your laugh
i find myself doing a lot of the same things each day
in my pursuit of your attention
im not sure how to harness this kind of emotion
but i know
its the kind of thing that sticks to the roof of my mouth
some nights when i try to speak
nothing but peanut butter comes out
i am just a broken damn
with too many words to make sense of
all flying in your direction

i realize i dont write much about you
but i think
its because i try to write to uncover something iʻve forgotten
but you
you are too recent
too now
to be a memory
fading into the ocean
and i am too stubborn to be anything but a sensitive poet

this line is for the morning
and this for the night
for the parts of our days we spend alone
waiting for the sun to raise or fall on the other side of the world
that i am falling alseep to the same lonliness you wake to
that this poem
however unorganized
is just another record
of the things i do
to try to feel close to you
in this endless distance

Friday, September 16, 2011

Day 787: short

ill be your memory
if you can be my promise

Thursday, September 15, 2011

DAY 786: insecure

i will
for as long as i can look into the future
ask you how
when you tell me you love me
ask you to show me
because i am incapable of taking your word
for believing
i need to be reminded that i am worthy
in order for me to act
like i am worthy
that you are depending on me
on my ability to stay stable rock like

its 9pm
but its 3am somewhere in my body
iʻve been looking for you there
in the cracks of our time
i know these words are nonsensical
but listen if you can
there are parts of you that will come scratching to the surface
screaming to be heard
you will know i am too afraid to say your name out loud
unsure if you still feel the same
convinced that there is no way
that you could

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Day 785: this body

im not used to this kind of insecurity
havent felt this way in my body in months
maybe years
something about it doesnt feel right tonight
i find myself slipping into darkness
weary to cut myself from this ocean
from the moon
but everything about these tides are carrying me under
my body is abandoning me
and i am not
not prepared for this kind of reconstruction
not tonight

this is not a poem
these are just questions
silences im trying to fling out to the heavens
cuz no one here seems to understand
that tonight
i am terrified to be in my own skin
nothing about it fits
not the fear
the discomfort
i just wish
sheʻd find her way hear
help lift me
to the surface

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Day 784: Senior Goodbye

"Cheer up, Charli
give me a smile"

we sang these songs into the empty auditorium
into the rafters
into the trap doors beneath us
tried to make legends of ourselves
with music
written by dead white men
and yet
we were told these would be the moments we remembered
how the silence of applause would crack our voices
and we do
remember the rehearsals
the hours spent in confined spaces learning to move our bodies in unatural ways
the orange hair die
but most of all
the promises we made not to change
how we lied to every single one of our best friends
weʻd be together forever
that we are always just a phone call away
when nothing could be further from the truth
how now
our bodies are built of steel cages
like factory gates
no one go in
no one comes out

Monday, September 12, 2011

Day 783: without a guide

if it cannot be you
to teach me
how will i learn to hold with both hands
and all of this body
if it cannot be you
how will i learn
to love one woman
with passion
until i am underground
until i am foundation building
roots to someones favorite tree
a 100 years from now
i want my stone to say
i loved her beautifully
loved her like oceans
that at every turn
we were a tide pulling and pushing
building and building

but if you cant seem to manage that
where am i supposed to learn
so difficult
so scary

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Day 782: not sure

You think I don’t write poems for you anymore
But iʻve sung a new song for you for every morning Iʻve woken up thinking you were beside me
I sleep with extra space on my bed
In case the version iʻve created of you in my dreams
Decides that your home could actually be the places I wait for you
To appear
I love you with every passive aggressive bone in my body
Every snide remark
Every boil of jealously
And every smile
Every touch
Every song iʻve ever sung
Somedays this brings me comfort
I want to fling myself from the highest building
Take any woman in the wings worth waiting for
If I stay on the surface of love
I can surf my way with out getting hurt again
With out having
To make more plans that will never happen
These aren’t the right words
I don’t know if they exist

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Day 781:

i have found no comfort in your silence
and everytime i try to pull myself into the distance
you seem to crawl in this space
leave me wondering what is behind the words you say
this is how i fix things that arent broken
i throw myself into the ocean
hoping youʻll realize i havent been up for a air in a while
and come looking for me

Friday, September 9, 2011

Day 780: not sure

they call this
the most hawaiian island
i do not understand
but i can feel hina blowing through the red dirt
find myself wanting to wash myself of the dust
realizing too late its significance
im a city girl
honolulu bred
and yet
something about this places calls to me like i belong
if only
i could find love in these craters
behind these winds
if only i could find you here
hidden in the cracks between the sky
maybe things would be different
if i tried
maybe i could be different if i tried
who knows
all i am sure of is this
when in rains
this island bleeds into the sea
the red ring around her
my only reminder
that i was ever living

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Off to moloka'i

I'm sure I'll get some great writing done but Wont be able to update til I get back.


Day 779: away

i keep writing poems before their time
pulling ribbons the size of loved one from my pours
whos the next poor soul to be trapped behind my doors
my skin aint thick enough for these kinds of games
and im getting pulled in ever direction
aint nothing about be strong enough to keep me staying anywhere long
fuck all this indecision
i just want to love like its good for me
like i dont always have to be runnning

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Day 778: im not ready for this poem either. fuck

"Times will come when you feel you are being pushed into the background. Never allow this to happen - stand always on your own foundation. But you will have to make that foundation. There will come time when to make this stand will be difficult, especially to you of Hawaiian birth; But conquer you can - if you will." - Princess Bernice Pauahi Bishop.

we were told to be industrious
so be hid steel plate under our skin
because we knew somedays the best offense is a good defense
and that growing up and leaving this island would make us vulnerable to attack
we were born scared
running from history
but she said be industrious
so we tied a part of her name to our body
tattooed her great uncle to our ankle and promised to never wear the color blue with yellow
the subtle things made us family
the way we refused silence
made us warriors

Monday, September 5, 2011

Day 777: To jenna (not even close to finished but im not ready for the rest)

From the first night we kissed
You became half of everything I would ever be
We pretended that didn’t weigh us heavy
Didn’t name us reckless
Didn’t break our backs
Instead we made plans
And anytime we spoke of days that weren’t passed we had to find a way to fit us in the margins

Today I realized
Im learning to love you differently
In a way that doesn’t tear and pull a part of me across the country
Learning that I can be me
You can be you
So much better when we aren’t so focused on fitting our waterlogged puzzle pieces together
When we aren’t so constricted by pronouns like us
We find a way to me more that anyone could have imagined

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Day 776: To the woman I would have to be for her

To the woman I would have to be for her

Remember when your hands were dirty
Carried the stray pieces of hearts
You weren’t mature enough to care for
How everything you touched dehydrated
Turned to stone
How you’re uneasiness crushed each statue girl you ever loved
How you were the bearer of dust
Of ruble
Of broken hearts
And empty sleeves
Do not forget the scars
How their brokenness entered your palms in shards
Stayed there
Left its mark
How every time you touch a glass girl now
You crack her with the diamonds crusted in your love lines

Because This will be the way you learn to love her stable
Think of her as anything but a bypass
A highway
A sunrise
Or sunset
Anything that makes you feel fast and short and beautiful
Call her something frequent
Something forever
But less heavy
Do not call her an ocean
You gave that name to someone else you love differently
Do not call her your shore
Do not call her your soul mate
That’s taken too
Call her beautiful
Even though it been said
It’s a name she understands
Something she can grasp
And it will not scare her to hear
But make sure you mean it every time
That you look at her like it’s a promise

When she learns to trust you with the shards of her mother tongue in private
Tell her you love her
Even if you’ve known for months
Until she is willing to say it in a language your blood can understand
Stay silent
Then, stop translating everything you say and give her the original transcripts
Ho’ike ia ia I na pu’u a na lua
Give her a name for every morning you wake up thinking of her smile
For the way she seems to put stars in every single one of your skies
For the ways she makes you wish you were more of a woman
For the way she can burn and inch of you with her gaze and her silence
for How see seems to have given life to everything around you
for How you’d travel all the islands to find her
Because you have heard of her beauty and you trust it
Take every moolelo you have ever read or heard and find a place for it on the breath between your bodies
Learn its purpose through her kiss
Because you know now that this kind of memory is embodied
And when you are sure
When you are steady
Call her hiiaka
Hold her in your chest
Make sure she is the one you will keep
Who will stay

When you run out of names
Of women
Of trees
Of roots
call her something heavier
Call her
For the bluest parts of you
The dark spots
The cracks you hope shell someday see
And Learn to love
Learn to not let fall you through you
Slide off her skin

When you re-introduce her to your father
Use the pronoun ku’u
Because it fits
Because ko’u is too serious
And ka’u doesn’t quite do it
Tell him that she is every moon you have carved on your skin
And you are every tide that follows
Tell him
That She is the morning you’ve been waiting to name
That most nights you are kept away just my the thought of your lips on her temple
and that somehow
you found every single one of your gods
in the melody of her breath
tell him that she is real
and that you are ready
that she is hiiaka
and you are hopoe
writing poems for every part of her body
about how you would burn under the weight of her mistakes
while planting songs in the form of yellow lehua trees
that the salt water between us
might grow something worthy
of her love

Saturday, September 3, 2011

Day 775:

Pele piles here like a promise.
The blackness, significance
The lush of growth, contrast.
I am just bypass
a narrow road
This pavement is memory
Your lips, moving
i see you in my mirror smiling
i've got a crush on your timing
on the way you seem to appear
its something i cant quite describe
so i will stop trying
instead ill just say
last night i saw you on the horizon

Friday, September 2, 2011

Day 774: brb

"i've got a crush on potential"
there is another poem here
wait here
ill be right back

Thursday, September 1, 2011

DAY 773: something beautiful

The first thing you said when your back was flush with my chest
is that no one is allowed to fall in love
you laughed
and I felt your smile tremble across my collarbone
all i did was hold you tighter
trying to convince myself that being that rational was possible
that i could actually choose not to fall for anyone,
especially you
that i could use my lips to turn your body into a temple
without finding myself making home somewhere inside of you

in that moment
i promised i would learn to use these hands
to do nothing more than touch
definitely not to build
pillar after pillar
not even to imagine
the blueprints of what a future of ours could look like
like Saturday, Sunday, Monday afternoons spent gliding through these waters
how our days could be lit by the smiles and laughter of your loved ones
because I have already fallen for the way their happiness hovers around you like a halo
and am terrified that our home could be built
with the same palms i would use to hold you
in that moment
i was hallow
happy to be connected to something
who seemed so alive
so happy
to just sit there in my arms
in silence
watch the waves do what they do best
and rebuild

i wanted to leave the stickiness of it all behind
but somehow
everything about our days seemed to fall off your body
like silence
and im stuck holding handfuls of sand
like a promise
and yes,
maybe a handful
is enough for a bridge
from california to rhode island
but maybe a bridge would take us in the wrong direction

i said it before
but i find myself having to repeat myself these days
please dont mistake me for a promise
you know
more than anyone
sometimes i say things because they are beautiful
and because i wish them to be true
sometimes they arent
a love poem
is everything you want
but not even a hint of what you need
and everyday i spend writing them
is another day ill spend alone in my car singing along with sara bareilles

listen closely
because i can only ever say this once
'run in the opposite direction'
i care for you enough to say
there is nothing inside of me that will bring you comfort
i am only a siren
a mermaid
flinging my poetry into the distance
no matter how honest
you are coming too close for your own protection
because when you feel near enough to taste i cant help but say these things
to ask you
to remember the songs we sang into the ocean
"Na pua riki te vaka of ru..."
remember the way the tones bounced off the water
turned to mist and disappeared
how the way i would hold you
would bounce off your body
turn to mist
and disappear
or the songs we flung into the airbags
"in the morning it comes, heaven sent a hurricane.. not a trace of the sun but i don't even run from rain"
how the words fell to the steel under our feet
and then silenced
how the way i said goodbye
fell to the street
and silenced
how you were completely out of sight before i allowed my engine to roar
leaving me
alone on your street
until i could convince myself that you were already gone
that i had to leave

there is silence all around me
and i've spent last couple of nights singing hoping you too would memorize the way your body moved under me
how my lips
turned you into a tide- crashing and rebuilding
how your breath bent me backwards
how the sounds you called silly slipping out of you
was the closest i'd felt to heaven beyond climax in too long to recount
how finding that heaven without traveling through its eruption seemed poetic
how recounting these stories
on the same couch that i found you smiling into me
seems pathetic
how no matter how true these words are
they will give you a false impression

do not forget
you are not the only love poem i've ever written
somehow i have developed a reputation for doing just this
its starting to make sense
why every single one of our friends warmed you and not me
I wasn’t there’s to warm
Maybe when I left this ocean
I sacrificed my right to be anything but a tsunami in my return
or maybe
there is something about their silence in my direction that means something

maybe its a lesson in growing
that they believe i cannot be changed
and maybe they are right
but maybe i think you could change me
today i think that’s it
but growing up means admitting that its possible that
thats just something beautiful
that i wish
were true