Monday, April 16, 2012

DAy 1000: the end?

a few things iʻve learned in the last 1000 days

writing is not the same as growing
it is not a substitute for hard
concentrated work
is it not
i repeat
what will force you to change
in the moments that require most strength
it will not be the reason you stand fight or fall

she will not change
no matter how many times you have written her
and yours
she will not be
what you want of her
she can only be
whatever she has always known

is your strongest advocate
will often be your only alternative to fracturing
take it

this is just a poem
is it not a telescope
a microscope
or a crystal ball
it is not the answer
or a tunnel tracing the other side of the universe
it is not even a promise
it is just
the scribble of secrets that have come to the surface

stopping is exactly the same as giving up
it doenst matter how long you last
to cease
is not an option

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Day 999: thinking of leaving

i did not choose
i fell into this promise
a day at a time
scribing pieces of myself
onto imaginary walls
i wonder how this brick may crumble
fracture pixles cracking in the foreground
how technology will or wont hold these pieces
keep them warm in my absence
when i forget they ever exited
when i fail to return
and which pieces will have the pull enough about them
to bring me home
when i least expect it

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Day 998: airports

in what seems like
a million other independant locations of the world
there is anoth building
that locks movers behind security and loads them onto the wings of angels
tells them they can fly as far as the edge and back
tells them
for a little extra they can even have a snack

i am trying to understand
how many people at this exact moment may be flying
and how many others
are fitting themselves into carry on sizes of their lives
how many are wlaking down the terminal trying not to make eyecontact
how many bodies are moving
right now?
with 6 billion people in the world
how many are laying still
how many have dies
how many are born

i am sitting in an airport that seems like it is much too full for this time of day
how many people in the world may be thinking the exact same thing
wonder how we could dare calls this a recession when you can get champaign on united
and orange juice for free
wonder how much of this privilege cannot be washed from myself before falling a sleep
if anyone ever wonders these things

Friday, April 13, 2012

DAy 997: Kotuia

There is a silence that cannot be shaken from the system
In the moment
You realize
You are no longer fluent in the only language that ever made sense to you
Most nights
I try to find a ember burning bright enough to light myself a promise
That i will fight not to lose the words i have left in the darkness

There is a secret shared between the bodies whose tongues have not yet been severed
Its a song that sings itself into the evening
It is a promises to continue
To persevere
i recognize its twinkle in the eye of these rangatahi
the way their bodies bend to fit the language of atua most of their generation has named forgotten
but instead
they carry
epitaph scriptures of maori myth on their skin
it is a banner that waves until the last hour of day
it is a weight you cannot feel until you are without it

i had forgotten
that language was more than the words spanning the distance between past and pressent
it was the mold that begged to call me hawaiian
and i have found my forgotten pieces in the crack between your teeth
in the parcels of polynesian scripture you’ve allowed to marinate
i have found my story
in the song your language sings
in the story that is bursting from your veins
in the promises you continue to make

there is a moment
of silence
that cannot be shaken from the system
a collapsing of sorts
that begs for you to open your eyes
and realize
there is a generation of souls who footsteps are the crumbling quakes you feel in your forgetfulness
they are there as a reminder
of your greatness
and your duty to your tongue

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Day 996: For Aunty Lyz of Sāmoa

i met a woman who loves like family line
who somehow sees value in mine
through im hawaiian blood
too many times removed
and she is samoan skin
spilling every part of herself onto kitchen linoleum out of love for our connection

i wonder how many times she has been here
how many times she has wondered whether or not his might be the last time our skins are pressed against each other
when we can close distance of oceans between our islands
find value in our navigation

she must know that we cannot forget her
the way she turned mother to our wandering bodies and hearts
the way she held us his her skin tone
the way we promised to return
i just hope she knows we love her
from the sound of our voices
and the way our feet fell over her stairs
in our departure

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Day 995: faith

The numbers keep falling over the edges like water
the rhythm reminds me our goodbyes
soft at firsts
then ending heavy
with a crack
with a shatter
i am wondering
if there is an end to this counting madness
if time ever learns to fracture
split at the edges
in the centers
the way i have
some nights
in thinking about the way you leave after every time you arrive
so instead
i am watching the way the number fall off our countdown
watching this timetable turn to explosion

i keep wondering when it stops
you know
cuz i keep saying it aloud
and i promise
im trying so hard not to
question any part of our bodies
but again i am reminded
that faith is nothing if left unquestioned
so i throw this wondering to the wind
let it take flight in their scattering
watch the way it fall
close enough to my body
knowing this is the closest i will get
to security
in your absence

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Day 994: AFter Thom Gunn

I did not write this poem first
but i am writing it now
"[our] relationship consisted
In discussing if it existed."

Monday, April 9, 2012

Day 993:

What part of me with stop ticking
when i stop digging deep enough
to pull a couple lines up
or maybe
what else of me might emerge
in the space left open

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Day 992:

when the lights go out
somehow all sounds are silenced
you are always there

Saturday, April 7, 2012

Day 991:

i have forgotten the meaning of these numbers
maybe because they never had
maybe because i never understood their curve anyway
but theres something about this chase
of perfect
of a 100 days
that feels less and less
the closer i get

Friday, April 6, 2012

Day 990: loneliness is a song

sleep through the sound of static
drown it under water
drown it under
drown it

are a temple of whispers
is just a song
weʻve all forgotten the name of
but learned at a young enough age
to never let slip

i think about the way the song must fall off your lips
think about the way it pitter patters to the ground
think about how it would sound
diving into the ocean
think about the sound of it drowning
the loneliness
instead of it drowning you
think about myself as water
smothering the bad
think about it all
falling down around me

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Day 989:

in the night
before sleep
some nights
i can hear love poems dancing over concrete
can feel the forest of secrets burning on the tips of my skin
it is moment slike when
when i remember
a part of me is hiʻiaka.
a part of hopoe is laced within every woman i ever loved
i see her in you
in the mornings
before you rise
i see it in the brush behind your eyes
the forestʻs song in the sound of your breath
sometimes i just wait
until your chest begins to dance
rises faster and fall deeper
until seas of your eyelids are parted
and you remember me
your hiʻiaka has returned
and she is waiting for your story to begin

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Day 988: why i love you more than one tree hill

i watched you come of
of courage
of straight
taught myself in your shadow
how love breaks
and rebuilds
and how love waits
for the right time

then children
i wished
i could live that life
that i could wait
and find someone like you
who coudl move a baby into this belly

and when i did
find you
i realized there is no magic other than our kiss
no part of us that will perform miracles of life into existance
but you will be here
standing at my side
even after all our pets and children are gone
you will stand there
hold my hand
like a friend
who will never run away
who i will always know whether or not you are or arent okay

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Day 987: national poetry month

all the poets
are putting pen to paper
calling discipline into this art
the way i have
for nearly 1000 days
the way i struggle to
even today
i wonder
how long they will last til they crumble
how long i will fight for these words
until they fall out of me
like whitewash

Monday, April 2, 2012

Day 986:

Love like silhouette
secrets slip under skin like salt
find me there
picking up the pieces of you left
under my sheets
missing you like crazy
count down falling faster with the days
nothing pleases me quite like

somethings gotta give
some people just have to wait

Sunday, April 1, 2012

day 985: for my mother

I remember the way my turning 16 turned you to stone
the way your heart sunk in its unknowing
how you told me you had no map to carry us further
how my growing older reminded you of you own
and the absence of your mother
and somedays
i forget of the weight of her
that you carry on your shoulders
forget the way you have caries her into every weight you have since had to bare

i cant for the life of me
imagine her smile
or her laugh
but i wonder sometimes
late at night
when i remmeber in th most tangible way that you are never too old to feel the absence of your mother in your bones
i wonder if she had your touch
if you can still remember the grip of her embrace
the tangibility of her adoration
for you

if her eyes were ever blessed enough to shine the way yours do
when you find your hear to outgrow your chest

there are leagues of sadness
and longining that fill the silence
between our stories

and tonight
this distance
is forcing me to think about every bit of you family history that you had to learn to carry in your spine

i am thinking about you
my mother
and about yours
and hers
and wondering if any of you have wastd this much time in silence or secrets
and im wondering how much time we may need to conquer the seas of fear we let grow between our bodies

so this is not a poem
its a song iver been singing
to myself for years
too quietly for you to hear its melody was writing for the embrace caught between generations
that too often
falls away in silence

this is for genevive
who raised a woman string enough to raise her own
this is for the parts of you both
that i feel tugging at me
on nights ike these
refusing to be ignored

this is for faith
for the moments i am full of it and dor the months
i have forgotten of its taste
this is for my mother
and the way her hair smells
when she hugs me goodbye
and how id never forgive myself if i railed to raise a daughter in her image