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.

Day 8: broke

I find that it's easy
In this city
To hemorrhage money

Day 7: RIP John Vietnam

morality

is a fucked up thing

she will have you knowing that grandmas and grandads die constantly

sometimes mothers

and fathers

sometimes brother and daughters

and yet

knowing so

you still find yourself surprised

when you see a post on facebook about a boy you knew

through closer friends

has died

dont understand how this could have happened

how the world tipped and let another young life slip off the edges

just know that shit aint right

not sure if you are justified in crying

justified to feel

for you know nothing of his skin, kin

palms or lips

know very little of his voice

nothing of his heart

and yet

here you are shaking tears from your skin like practice

trying to understand the meaning of tragedy and if this is it...

you think it is

i guess this is the promise we make ourselves in living

that death

at each corner

will shake us at each turn

no matter who it is

but that when the dying are young

and beautiful

and brilliant

and full of potential,

like you, John

they will remind us of our siblings

and all the other young people who are not done living

we will return home and hold them close

knowing that no one is safe

in this earth tipping game

Day 6: Subways nonsense

Been writing in pencil lately

prefer the scratch of synthetic led to tree

over the clank of awkward fingers over plastic

and yet

its all relative

cuz i find myself now

clanking away into the evening

there is no story here yet

just a bunch of strangers

face to face on a metro train

and a burn victim asking for a change

and a woman who sings like someone i must have heard in a dream

makes me wonder about how easy it is to be worthy of greatest

and yet

fall short

find yourself begging for change

or demanding it another way

like i said

there is no story here yet

just a set of strangers

who might never cross paths again

and a violins

echoing through the tunnel

and a boy who's frozen

watching the masterpiece unfurl

and so here i am

scribbling away

scribing nonsense

in an overpriced book of trees

with an over priced pencil, japanese

with nothing worthy of the voice iʻve been given

just a reflection

of a young boy's smile

as he learned his love for music

Day 5: Agitation

Nostalgia

caught in your lung

like a disease

caughing up infection

to catch you broken

memory

stuck to the roof of your mouth

like the sweet stick of honey

misleading

you

an old western rerun on AMT

a soundtrack i thought i'd forgotten

something familiar

that gets caught

like dust under my eyelids

so here i am

eyes watering from the sting

unwilling to let the disease of you fall through me

no

i will hold you there

captive

in the gloss of my eyes

claim

you are just an allergy i've agitated

Day 4: Rainfall

first rain

a sky parting kind of thing

find yourself looking up

up up and away

waiting for the light to split

at the right angle

remind you of the place you come from

build an arch worthy of the word home

but no

there is no movement

the sky shivers still

no colors combining

no arc climbing

no beauty to hold you

just the sound of rain

falling at your feet

and the smell of sidewalk

sticking

Day 3: Silence

Silence seems to me

a commodity

no one can afford to sell

so we barter off public spaces like currency

im looking for a corner to call my own

a crack to call home

a place no one else has found

but this is not the city for secrets

and discoveries

everything worthy

has already gone to he highest bidder

so where does that leave me?

Day 2: Jamaica aint no queen

I see my name

all over this city

from streetlights to tshirts

from the voice of a young boy

to the fleet of subways- screaming

and yet,

see none of myself

not in the streets

nor the trees

and definitely

not in the bluest of the eyes

or the heart of a girl i used to call mine

one i once knew

who used to love me

Day 1: In Transit(ion)

The horn on this plane

rings like a pū

reminds me of the way

i will ask permission

to return

to the hearts of this home

how i must arrive

a stranger

one who has wandered too far way to call myself sacred

with too much stardust of another city

caught under my skin

an unfamiliar stench to kin

when it sings again

when i find myself released

the sting will remind me of all my promises

the ones i had no business making

will scratch at the back of my throat like a forgotten prayer

like a chant i havent sung in years

Kunihi ka mauna

stand erect as the ridge line

do not fear its shape

do not stutter in your request

know only

you have found your way

home, a stranger to you

hope for a reply of welcome

While i leave you, Love

A poem as i, Hi'iaka, leave you my Hōpoe

I will sing for you 

only one song 

in my departure

only one promise in this severing 

that leaving
with you behind

will be my truest sign of aloha for you

that nothing 

will ever eclipse the 

the shadow that shakes from this lehua

the way the yellow of it 

stills the chill settling in your blood

you and i never were 

a'ole

we always are 

chose instead of the stillness of past 

the dance found in this foreest

threw every part of these temporary bodies into this home

into this valley 

this crater that grows us 

in every direction

E Ku'uipo,

watch the parts of us as we feather into flowers 

your lips 

how they fold into this soil

how you are every part of this home i love

and fear to leave

watch the way growth happens all around

and how the birth of us turns me to song

turns you to dance

turns us both 

together

forget that i am leaving

forget that there is more beyond the walls of this aina

this ahu

extending into sky 

remember the calm of this movement 

the forevever of this voice 

and know

that i will return

either in body

or in song

so that our dance

shall never end

Becoming

im starting to wonder
what it might be like
for words to find their way spilling from my lips again
something about me
stopped working
when you left
some part of me
forgot the heal of words falling out of my body
like whitewash

still i am called a poet
by all my friends
and the strangers who think they know me
and the words
feel like grass sometimes
against the back of my neck
remind me i am uncomfortable in this silence
in this position
where i am not producing anything
but discomfort
i wonder
what will be the final
difference
between
what is locked inside
and what finally
becomes
of
this
page

the parts that dont fade

memories
coming up for seconds
broken pieces of yesterday
floating to the surface
simmering iridescence
pearls made of mirrors
parts of this earth that only paint reflections

Resolve

Today i resolve
to not be the same person
i've always been
who pulls you back
to keep myself feeling wanted and steady
who lets you wonder
if my love will return to hold you
when i know it will not
when i know
i cannot bring myself to look at you the same
how hard i have tried to for so long
i know there is no turning back
that in the moment
i decided
to whole heartedly
give myself to someone else
to find myself being worthy of trust
and finding someone worthy of my own
someone without a history of secrets
in that moments
i became
no longer yours
or our own

so today
i resolve
to resolve again tomorrow
to be moving more every moment then the last
to be always growing
whether i am better tomorrow than today
or not
i promise to not be the same
i promise to never again
stand still in the roots of past convictions
and to be more
in every way we both failed to be for each other
not for her
not for me
but for who we were
and the potential we slowly splintered away
when all we tried to do
was not change

DAy 1000: the end?

a few things iʻve learned in the last 1000 days

1.
writing is not the same as growing
it is not a substitute for hard
concentrated work
is it not
i repeat
not
what will force you to change
in the moments that require most strength
it will not be the reason you stand fight or fall

2.
she will not change
no matter how many times you have written her
steady
and yours
she will not be
what you want of her
she can only be
whatever she has always known

3.
change
is your strongest advocate
love
will often be your only alternative to fracturing
take it

4.
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

5.
stopping is exactly the same as giving up
it doenst matter how long you last
to cease
is not an option

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

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
conceptualize
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
wondering
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
wonder
if anyone ever wonders these things

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
human
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

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

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
tonight
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
still
close enough to my body
knowing this is the closest i will get
to security
in your absence

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."

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

Day 992:

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

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

Day 990: loneliness is a song

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

you
are a temple of whispers
loneliness
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

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
again
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
again

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

i watched you come of
age
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
forveer
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

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

Day 986:

Love like silhouette
slow
habitual
insence
secrets slip under skin like salt
dissolve
find me there
picking up the pieces of you left
under my sheets
missing you like crazy
count down falling faster with the days
38
37
36
nothing pleases me quite like
0

somethings gotta give
some people just have to wait

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
alone

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