A recording of her voice, an old woman's voice full of gravel and lead steeped through the car radio. She spoke of gathering limu visitors on ships, and dusty roads in Waianae. In the distance you could almost hear the dogs crying, the mullet wriggling in the fish bag Nostalgic for a tutu I never…

Many years later, he watches her sleep the white hair, hollow skin, frozen lines dwindling. He can’t remember her laugh- down at the boathouse by the Ala Wai where dances were held every Saturday night. So many parked cars they had to walk as far as three blocks, but they could hear it from that…

Pressed between Webster's gotten and grand, mama keeps your letter, one page to remind me when I'm at a loss for words. Those words always the same; I'm sorry mama, I understand now, soon real soon but your release got pushed back twice since then, already seven years ago. Your dashed out script, the curves…

Before the locked door, the starched white sheets, the Freud-speak, there was a way in. An unguarded door- the eyes the lips grab the handle; skin raw sugar turn the key; my neck wet grass. You say I love you with an old rising force that carries your breath like orange orchids streaming down a…

Into the Wild I know all your stories Maori dancer they are mine too. How you were born of the sky but carry fire, the waka you ride with brother whale just below I know what you hunt, how bristles on the skin are boiled off the soft flesh that will be enjoyed tonight I…