Category: Hawaii

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Fresh Fish with Aloha!

  he called out, his knotted arm, knitted and purled, pumping a bucket the size of a table. I heard his low voice as I walked by him, say to his boy holding the rods that no one’s biting these days no one’s calling. I imagined him, then, standing on that barnacle-crusted pier, two rods in hand fishing for people. Scooping up chums who … Read More Fresh Fish with Aloha!

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Breath Work

  She sighs, constantly. Always the sigh, sighing herself to wishful elegance, whisking the whites to rising peaks, she counts herself backward,

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Sonnets of Indigo

  Water droplets bead up from the small slice in this surfboard; epoxy got nothing when it comes to run ins, when it comes to used boards and low budgets. When it comes to this universe; what I think I might want; the cat who stretches himself beside me– I got nothing. Petting the cat, he purrs then bites me. I got nothing. Nothing … Read More Sonnets of Indigo

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127 Percent

  Evening light pales into my windows from behind the palms, piloting in a fruity breeze to stir the pages at my desk. I’m 30 percent writing, 25 percent sipping tea, 9 percent listening to jazz beats & 63 percent certain my poetic Muse has taken the day off.

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Ahead

  In the azure distance sails a boat with one triangle sail, bowing east, heading east. Her going is unnoticed by those practicing yoga, spinning frisbees, balancing on purple slack-lines at this grassy knoll at the base of the volcano. I cannot take my eyes off her, so sure of herself, so pointed— something so certain of direction deserves applause.

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Lewis Wharf, Boston; 1978

  Fall colors warm her sweet face, deep reds and blushing oranges snuggling into the gentle wrinkles at her cheeks; the low light off the fading greens bounce from the brown of her sweater to my eyes, the softness I cannot myself believe. Contained in one tiny, aging human is the breath of ages seen and past— each petite wrinkle is a memory of … Read More Lewis Wharf, Boston; 1978

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Soften the Jaw

  & tell the abyss the darkness is temporary. The moonlight is warming & the breeze which sweeps transposes the seeds and growth is in the underbrush. Tell the abyss it’s nearly dawn—that time runs parallel to furrowed brows and intersects

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Persistence of Memory

  Ribbed and scurrying, a bus passes me; the sweat in airy beads drips to my bicycle knees. I am going everywhere, today. The ride is smooth, my mind is loose, the breeze is flesh and sweeps me— snatches of light-petaled afternoons. Pedalling backpacks to Point Chevalier, to the holy lips of Auckland harbours. Eager gusts helping me over wire-knit fences. The trees, bent … Read More Persistence of Memory

Desperate Relief

  I give you these poems at the tail-end of the trade winds at the cost of an espresso & my reasoning soul. I would sit in the midst of Kalakaua traffic simply to relieve this hounded mind with a pen. Here, enfolding the slender tipped shepherd, facing such fragrance of relief, I am rendered

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Fidelity

  I’m a Fiat roof rack I’m the bicycle lacquered in red lights I’m the afterthought after the period drops. I’m dizzy with it all and too sleepy to wait til Christmas. Let days just be days— they’ve been overlooking my permission for ages.

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Moon Dance

  There are 7.8 billion poems about the moon; having read none of them, I wonder: If all her glowworms cast their eyes to her size and whimper amongst themselves: why she so low— then what does she do? Diddly.

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Sonnet 17

  Borrow the car Borrow the flour Borrow the book Borrow the shears Borrow the money Borrow the tuxedo Borrow the pencils Borrow the clothes Borrow the tampon Borrow the vacuum Borrow the ice pack Borrow the envelope Do not borrow the soul. The soul is yours.