Day 28: When we Finally Realized

when we finally realized we were the language...

we scraped the silver lining from our shackled skin 

tore ourselves back to black

and brown at the edges

let the screaming dance escape

when we finally realized...

we became a home

with salt and sea protection guarding a place worthy of our roots

when we finally realized

we planted something that could grow

threw away their parts of speech

the ones that had us cuffed and cored

we executed their verbs 

and pro nous

returned to our ku'u

to our kåkou and 'oe

and let the 

she and he's

her and him's

the its and me's

let them be a broken shimmy 

down

down

down the drain 

when we finally realized

WE could name our bodies

we held our tongues

and danced the sight of it

to sound

Day 27: I dont want poetry

I dont want poetry
i just want sleep

Day 26: To Hiʻiaka

To Hiʻiaka: An Apology for my inadequacy - from the kind of ʻimiloa who falls apart in distance

For the better part of the last year i have tried to hallow out a crator of your story
to build an echo of a song worthy of your voice
i have traced the lines of yours weʻve remember on the underside of my wrist
a promise
i have turned every lover into a flower resembling your Hōpoe
a memory worthy of that sacrifice
and made an event of your memory
never taking a moment to recognize my shortcomings in your depiction
in the aligning of your brilliance to my mediocre

so instead of spending this evening writing lines to form a voice that i cannot capture
tonight i am scribing you an apology
for pretending i had any right to speak your story
when every part of me is too weak in your footsteps
when every part of me crackles in this seeking
in this distance from home and lover
in the same instances that you seemed to flourish

i cannot promise
only hope to turn this journey of mine into something worthy of your name
turn these words into something resembling what you have left behind

Day 25: rain

silver pieces slipping off the edges
minutes combed over
to one side
the way time passes
pushes
and breaks
makes me something special
sometimes i carry the sparkle it shakes in my skin
wait for the rain

make it wash away again

Day 24:

im scraping alll the cracks here looking for a sign of life

only to see the remnant of the way things died

only scar tissue shaking itself to dust

under the shake of this cities steps

Day 23:

I am completely uninterested in catching up

just catching on

only want a little space to call my own

and enough words to write something inspiring every once and a while

only want to be worthy of the words im been given

only want a little time to grow

proper

Day 22: Arthritis, A Haiku

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

fuck, i hate my fucking life

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

<3

Day 21: ʻIolani Palace

First a symbol

An idol erect

Showing strength

And luxury

And civility

First always a symbol

Second to gather

To come

To be come

To dance

To sing

To remember

Second to gather

But First a symbol

Third a home

A place where to rest his head

A king with a crown created

A crown adopted

A banner of how genealogy might translate to English

Third a home

After they gathered

To the symbol

Fourth to morn

A place to return

A woman remembering the cold

And his smile

And the rain

And the man

The final note of his moʻo

The man under the gold shimmer

Fourth to morn

Within the home

Once they had gathered

To become a symbol

Fifth, a faith

A woman rising from the ash of a brother- failed

A woman within the word of god but true to her moʻo

A resistance assembled so

In music

Or constitution

Fifth a faith

That spurted from morning

Within the home

That they gathered to

To make the symbol true

Sixth a prison

Not a metaphor, no

A prison with columns turned to bars

Holding her captive

With only her song

Only her god

And her love for her kanaka

Sixth a prison

For 6 months in 1896

Sixth a devil

She endured in strength

Now a museum

A castle full of memory

not allowed to touch

what symbol remains?

Only that we once existed

And now cannot hold what is our own

With class panels

Like bars refusing the gathering to happen

The commune between mother and daughter

Not a place for the lahui to rest through the night

Not when the doors have been shut

Not when we must ask to be home

So still we mourn the loss, a symbol still standing

Mocking us of what we cannot have or touch

Now, only a reminder

A gravitation pull

To place and memory

Day 20: ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi

their eyes widen when the water falls out

ocean spilling vowels through me

kaona spurting from the salt

classmates stutter in silence

trying to repeat

sound locked in their shackle shaped lips

they do not know

the way their english barely breaches the surface

and i find it ironic

that i have been chosen

an artist in a mode

dictated by the superficiality of colonial tongues

for the first time in over 4 years

i find myself isolated by translation

remembering how comfortable i am in this crater

laying my body in the curve of Haumea's tongue

and yet, in contrast

how self conscious i have become of my presentation

and the way the others gaze

scopophelia spilling from the iridescence of their irises

making me sculpter like

walls building around me, a museum

until i am still again

silent

letting only the english

breach the crest

Day 19: 9/11

the soot of this crumbled city

sits under the skin of its decedents

the ones who havent fallen

who continue to walk towards tomorrow

erect and outstretched

they say the skyline looks different

but i dont know any difference

this place is still a mystery

covered

and clasped

kept from me

i do not see the home made empty

or withered away

or the bodies decayed

i do not watch the silver sky fall

i do not remember

because i was not there

but i stand here in awe

of all that has not fallen

Day 18: Pau ʻole

he maoli ke kanaka

he aina ka wahine

he pono ka piko

he mea hoʻomau

he mea pau ʻole

Day 17: melting

how sad it is

to long to be

turned inside out

beneath the sea

how sad i must

live this life

where water only falls

from faucets

how sad it is

to look out

and see nothing but the city

and to wish it to melt

into a puddle

or sea

or pool

or ocean

or anything

that might remind me

of home

Day 16: translation

Heoli's tongue is

shattered frames of glass film, try

to mend translation

Day 15: Symphony

Sweat collected in the crater of my neck

heat callused to my skin

blistered

and scabbed over again

peeling

over again

there is a process to shedding heat in this city

along with every worry

it is developed through a patient practice

in which woman

peel back the most out layer of themselves

over again

build over a masterpiece of the one that once existed

every evening i am reminded of the way the day can stick to you

and i find myself in ceremony

standing under a symphony of water falling over

do not let the sound of breaking out

not to remind anyone but yourself that the shedding occurs

over again

they know already

and need no reminder other than their own

keep your body quiet

let no one hear the tears turn

to symphony too

Day 14: Calluses

Dad says the calluses will come

that the broken bodies falling over my feet

i will learn to blind myself to injustice enough

not to let it cut at me

get caught under my skin

like a promise i cant keep

that maybe

the fact that my subway ride gets darker and darker the deeper i get into brooklyn

and the shoulders fall further and further

and life seems to get

harder and harder

that someday

those thoughts

of being heavy

wrong and hurtful

will start to slide off of me

like melodies strung from guitar strings

i guess these are the parts of life

you didnt realize you were getting

with your bargin apartment

Day 13: city of sound

i forgot this feeling

of wordlessness

of running out

and away

falling short

and over

over

over

again

there has got to be something new to say

and so maybe this leather skin iʻve been practicing

is making it harder to take time in my own skinning

for the reader

too much of me is already turning tough

out of necessity

but that was not the point of this journey

why stand under these flashing lights

if all the shine does

is makes me want to curl into myself

what is the point

if it leaves nothing to be shared

only fear closing me over

not a word left

to be said out loud

why move to the city of sound

if it only inspires my silent hustle

Day 12:

i fear the violence of your translation

over

the bound of your fist

Day 11: fear

i am told to fear the city in which i sleep

there is no solace to be found in these streets

just a people

broken by the economy

and me

a girl

who's never been afraid to walk home late

a day in her life

how this city will shake her to the core

even in the safest of space

make her wonder how strong she is

and if maybe she was born of something softer

sand like

not worthy of these

flashing lights

Day 10: a word from LIliʻu

To be honest it doesn't feel right for it to be my voice today. In celebration of the queen today I have copied her final speech as the ruling monarch.

E ʻola mau ka lāhui ʻo Hawaiʻi !!!


I, Lili'uokalani, by the Grace of God and under the constitution of the Hawaiian Kingdom, Queen, do hereby solemnly protest against any and all acts done against myself and the constitutional government of the Hawaiian Kingdom by certain persons claiming to have established a Provisional Government of and for this Kingdom. That I yield to the superior force of the United States of America, whose Minister Plenipotentiary, His Excellency John L Stevens, has caused United States troops to be landed at Honolulu and declared that he would support the said Provisional Government. Now, to avoid any collision of armed forces and perhaps loss of life, I do, under this protest, and impelled by said forces, yield my authority until such time as the Government of the United States shall, upon the facts being presented to it, undo the action of its representative and reinstate me in the authority which I claim as the constitutional sovereign of the Hawaiian Islands.
— Queen Liliʻuokalani, Jan 17, 1893[14]

Day 9: poem poem poem poem

Never needed a reason to love u
Only looked for a reason to not fear you
To hold u
Find a part of your body strong enough to build
Never told u how much I would fear your lips
In leaving
Never told u
Cuz it didn't matter

A love lost
Is a love never had
And I rather not continue the production of wiping away the past

Poem poem poem poem
Words go on
Saying nothing.