write with me
some poetic possibilities i've been thinking through lately. please email me / text me / come find me if you would like to share manaʻo. e ʻai kole kākou <3
In ʻōlelo Pelekania, the etymology of the word “conspire” means to “breathe together”. Ke ola nō. In a world that so often refuses pause, recognition, and slowness, I’m spelled by anti-endings today. Make a playlist that helps you breathe better. Songs or poems. Send it to someone who speaks life into you.
Who guards your water? How do they hold you, keep you, ask you to surrender? Surge?
It scares me, more than surprises me, how often we are taught to hide our water. Hide our fire. Whatever emotion may lead our gut, our elements, our response, may you and I always refuse shame.
Read “water-sign woman” by Lucille Clifton.
Read “There is a Dirt Road in Me” by Billy Ray Belcourt.
In today’s poem, i found my hand searching for a “sendsong,” a word born from “sandsong”. “Sandsong” and “sendsong” are sonic sisters, and also gesture towards consent & reciprocity. Orbit yourself around a specific word & constellate with its vowels / consonants for a moment. See what sonic sisters come forth. Study their intimacy. See how this opens new ethers / poetic possibilities for you.
What happens when our flowers speak without fear? Who do they leave a voicemail for? Who do they talk story with? What do they trade? Name where this ceremony happens. Name the people who make these flowers possible. Or, if it’s more cathartic, name the first three names in these flowers’ diss track / burn book.