I am extremely sensitive to place.
Perhaps my Irish background, with both sets of grandparents only a few miles from each other, shaped me that way. This includes the flora & fauna, the ancestors and the spirits of a place. My poetry is poetry of place, grounded in seasonal settings and the particulars of location.
This is why my poetry over the past twenty-two years is Hawaiʻi-based. It’s also why I dance Kupuna Hula.
Poetry is my life.
Both my grandfathers were poets. I’m simply following their lead. I’ve never stopped writing poetry. I’ve published in small presses, but the bulk of my current published poetry was self-published (under the aegis of the Inkwells, a writing group I belong to here in Kohala, Hawai’i Island).
Eggs With Garlic
I have a feeling of love can I live on that
maybe that’s why I’m jumpy rushing outside
to meet the earthquake turns out to be
an 18 wheeler on the mountain road no
a military helicopter no it’s the wind thundering
over the soundbox of this house guess I’ll turn
around go back to the pan add some garlic
to the eggs limit myself to one shot espresso
I have a feeling of love can I live on that
maybe that’s why I’m jumpy rushing outside
to meet the earthquake turns out to be
an 18 wheeler on the mountain road no
a military helicopter no it’s the wind thundering
over the soundbox of this house guess I’ll turn
around go back to the pan add some garlic
to the eggs limit myself to one shot espresso
a splash of water I know I need to calm down
but I keep expecting something maybe that’s
all part of waking up on an island at low tide
as for waiting I’m done with that me I’m
working on riding the moment like a bicycle
with no handlebars whatever happened to
balance anyway quick dissolve the little mind
that pushes me into near atrophy before it’s
too late give me some turmeric and the blood
of a beet pour off some elixir from the slimy
fungal creature brewing in the dark my gut
needs its effervescence today my heart
is that flock of seedeaters contracting
from out of the blue onto a patch of uncut
grass they know the difference between
a crack in the world and a tradewind
playing basso profondo for breakfast
Let The Light Back In
A hand took the light last Friday I’m still reeling
Here’s the floor here’s the bottom to this darkness
I’m on my knees but I don’t know if I’m praying
Or looking for a way out such a light that word
Lost whispers in my ears and it’s true that’s how
It feels when everything’s loose in the world
Where’s the hope when such a shock takes our
Breath away it’s dark all right he was the sun
Rising on our dark differences I was living
A hand took the light last Friday I’m still reeling
Here’s the floor here’s the bottom to this darkness
I’m on my knees but I don’t know if I’m praying
Or looking for a way out such a light that word
Lost whispers in my ears and it’s true that’s how
It feels when everything’s loose in the world
Where’s the hope when such a shock takes our
Breath away it’s dark all right he was the sun
Rising on our dark differences I was living
In a flat world till this happened this morning
The ground falls away spills over the edge
Am I blind? I’m reaching out trying to understand
Why beauty is now homeless and hard to find
Before this happened life was bent to its task
Getting spending turning soil or wheel casting
Lines into the sea bending to a child is this
What it takes to rip open our complacency
And let the light back in? Is the cost of standing
Up for a woman for a faith for a choice that hurts
No one the life of a young man setting out
To shelter the world a hand took the light
The darkness is blinding but that hand has
A mother too tonight light your candle tonight
Light a thousand candles against this moment