He stay real smart – He know what I trying fo’ say when clarity falls through da pukas in my sentences cuz my English stay all buss up like Jesus when they hung him on top da cross. Every time I gotta talk I come scared cuz I no like sound like I neva go…

more mana’o for this time of year – Makahiki. Time to reap the fruits of a good harvest (a good year or good works)and to enjoy life! Lonoikamakahiki!

Birthday poem that just kind of spilt out as I sat at my desk at work.

Watching my roommate draw, she literally sniffed the colored pencils to tell the colors apart. Also she can’t cook for sh*t.

Between the cardboard covers there is paper and there is ink. There are smudges, doodles, coffee stains, and black scribbles marking mistakes. There is the occasional legible word. There are black, white, the occasional blue, sometimes red, but never pink. There are no confessions, no revelations, no confidences, no revolutions, no contemplations and no resignations….

If you were here I’d lie messily on top of you to double the hallelujah of meeting you once, forever, last year. Do you remember how we recognized each other somewhere in the folded corner of a yearbook? You teased me, high school jokes that made me laugh; made the guavas, no longer bitter, ripen…

You are a numbers kind of guy machines, sharp angles, and symmetrical bridges between legs excite you. Logic makes you pause and consider the many ways we come together so neatly. Whereas I don’t even try to add you plus me, I just enjoy the equation. Trees outside, sidewalk chalk, and intangible things thrill me….

Damp skin catches salt sticky water churns beneath and the lace of my skirt clings hard to your legs like cobwebs to a strong wind. The stars, our lives make us restless so we play with the tangents of mystery in the strange moonlight. My shadow, honest and unafraid dives into the deep night.

The Makali’i will rise in the sky soon signifying the time of Makahiki. These haikus written some years ago recall that observance on Kaho’olawe.