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.

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