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…

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…

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…

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…

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.

This is in memory of Wendy Machado…died 10-01-08…go in peace.

This is a birthday poem written last year for my grandson La’akeaomaunalei. It evokes places on Lana’i – where part of his name comes from the clouds (maunalei) that converge each afternoon over the island.

We live in a time, my friend, where genius in art and science is measured in money. We live in a time, where beauty is only acknowledged, if it can…

Here is my attempt to capture the power of nature in words.