Second breakfast after listening to the breakers
between my ears even the long silence of the temple
bell vibrated with distant waves shorelines for a few
minutes anyway I stopped naming places I remember
the eggs arrive and I make the cuts with my bamboo
knife and fork that banana I ate earlier with my espresso
itself a distant sound now against my palate I got
lightheaded in the hour leading up to this moment
pushing the yolk across the plate with the edge
of my toast I marvel again how chickens capture
sunlight in white and ovoid even the road at my back
takes on long deserted strands I’ve never visited
it’s not like the bad news isn’t traveling faster than
the speed of light I’ve simply decided to hear it
for what it is instead of worshipping things that sink
like a stone my heart is not a rock and I know
my soul is lighter than a feather the weather’s
worth talking about after all the night’s are getting
cooler I’m changing and I know you are too


They say day breaks but it’s night

that’s broken open its deep dark

cover thrown off for this turning


I stand knees bent testing the distance

to the solid core I’m shaking my head

what a miracle if this is what reality


is like behind the waterfall of getting

and spending then bring it on I embrace

this fecundity this being this turning


Tonight standing under the canoe purchased

from a resort did it ever touch water this

ceremonial waʻa long enough for ten people

to sit inside I came for the music a wild

skillful pianist who plays boogie Rachmaninov

a cool sax player in shades Ricardo on guitar

lead wearing a porkpie hat and a drummer

well the subtleties and innuendoes were flying

and many were nodding their heads keeping

time I don’t know what made me look up

and study the straps their stitching a loose thread

at the kanaka end the stout screw eyes seated

snug to the beams lines taut bowline on the bite

kanaka and lupe a beautiful canoe butterfly

inlay and lacquered thick heavy as a tree

long as an unfinished song I’ve been here

before standing beneath this canoe hula practices

or kanikapila this canoe’s suspended overhead

tonight’s no different it’s frozen in time although

outside a thin curve of light called kūkolu moon

stirs my blood I poured the rest of my red wine

out on the ʻāina consider it an offering or

a blessing I wish us well with our undertakings

I’m glad I came out tonight the news still

warm on the home screen I think to myself

refugees aren’t the problem it’s refuge a place

to do what the piano player said tonight

come together for songs of love and loss

hanging on or letting go burning up or freezing

moving on or staying behind I left early

walked out beneath that long moon handle

opened up the night and walked in while

the songs were still fresh they say half

full or half empty I say standing under

that canoe the music rises up and keeps us

afloat not just up there defying gravity but

moving out there island to island looking

for new shorelines and answers to this

restlessness some of us call home


This bright morning breaks into sundogs flying

across bedroom walls window light fallen flat

on a carpet of sheep hair tied into Buddha curls

showing faceless shadow puppets made by leaves

dancing outside big as hands with the sun in their palms

I sit silently in the corner chair remembering the hollow

hour of two when I awoke clear-eyed in the absence

of all this light disconcerted by another dream

another retelling of how you left your preparations

my sense of loss before losing before finding myself

rushing to the cool dark surface of separation

I tell myself it’s another dream a revision of the story

in this version you’re surrounded by women I don’t know

finally I offer the use of my truck to move your stuff

but you shake your head I’m beginning to understand

there’s no easy answer to this question unless

the test the room the light the pieces of rainbow

and more than this a vibration the wind’s

other half an echo before the birth of sound

will reveal itself when I’m least expecting it

from the beginning they said we were soul mates

it seems we can’t see who we are without looking

through the lenses of other eyes in the end beauty

engulfs all the senses we were born with in one breath