There are things we choose to remember about a man once he is laid to rest. However, in some ways, Carl Heine was more than a man – he was a piece of Marshall Islands history. The path that he chose placed him on the frontlines of change, just as the face of RMI began to transform dramatically. Among the… Read More
poem: Tell Them
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w9D88ST9qbw&feature=player_embedded] Tell Them I prepared the package for my friends in the states the dangling earrings woven into half moons black pearls glinting like an eye in a storm of tight spirals the baskets sturdy, also woven brown cowry shells shiny intricate mandalas shaped by calloused fingers Inside the basket a message: Wear these earrings to parties to your… Read More
poem: Legend (a draft)
III. jesus might have been a man and so was adam but the sail that powers the Marshallese canoe which feeds our family which fights our wars which claims our land which visits clans came from a mother.
poem: History Project
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UJm0pCbHB6Y] History Project at fifteen I decide to do my history project on nuclear testing in the Marshall Islands time to learn my own history, I decide I weave through book after article after website all on how the US military once used my island home for nuclear testing I sift through political jargon tables of nuclear weapons with names… Read More
poem: Lessons from Hawaii
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3sbtpazYra0] Lessons from Hawaii LESSON NUMBER 1: FUCKIN MICRONESIANS! that’s my seventh grade friend cussin at the boys across the street rockin swap meet blue t-shirt baggy jeans spittin a steady beetlenut stream yea one of them’s related to me You know, you’re actually kinda smart for a Micronesian And that’s my classmate who I tutor through the civil… Read More
poem: Last Days in the Bay
my last days as a bay area kid was high top sneakers sliding off my feet and into your bed heads of white sage burning black through eyes rolled back and sliding down my lips concrete grips our hips across shattuck as we walk wooden like the lizard sliding through your stone heart boxed in we bart through frisco fog… Read More
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