Afar

For tonight I will howl
The moon will be full
My voice it will carry
Across these lands
And these waters
Know I am with you
Here in this heart
Hear my voice to you
For tonight I will howl

IndiBlue

The Shearwater flit and float along shores edge
Seeking food in the moons blue light
White sands filtered to new hue
Lovers hidden between the beached boats
Sail to new places exploring new lands
The fishermen exhort food from the bounty
For sport and sustenance and camaraderie
I walk these sands in indigo light
Trees and homes and sky and sea
Meld to hues of the same
These blues mix with yours
I wish you turn to this freedom
As Shearwater flit and float in carefree abandon

Sense

No photographs sir
No memories thinks eye
What was it I was just seeing
That caused me to commit this faux pas
You must delete the photograph sir
But no damage was done was it
I glance at the scene I had captured
A fire scene
It had hit my senses
I liked it and wanted to preserve it
And delete it now sir
The condescension palpable
My sensitivity of doing wrong
Wrought by the sensitivity no wrong was done
Lost now the thing that had pleased my senses
And on the way out
I can buy a video of the production
But what is the sense in that
It was not this production
The one that had captured my eye
That had joined to my senses
Something is lost

flow

beneath the cool
falls
timeless waters
to the pool
below
washing over
mingled
in waters cool
there are many
who would have
yet there is
but
One

Stella

Stella is a hard person. She has the build of a woman borne of labour or fighting or perhaps jail. Her shape nondescript, more a triangle. Her arms were large and muscular and looked as if they could handle themselves in a bar brawl. Stella was dressed in black steel toed boots, black jeans faded grey where she would lean against things, a black t-shirt with a not very nice slogan imprinted across the chest. Her face and arms are tanned the leathery tone and skin condition of a person away from this place.

Stella was not a person you could feel immediately warm to. Until you looked to her shoulders. On the right a large majestic white Cockatoo. It sat lording over all it saw from his perch subjecting himself only to Stella. It nuzzled and nibbled on her ears. As she prepared to enter a coffee shop she reached to him, scooped him onto the back of her weathered hand and touched his tail. He deftly lifted his tail and left his stool with all the other bird stool in the parking lot. A kiss and he moved back to his perch.

On the left shoulder a moulting Myna bird. Never has a bird loved a person as this tiny fellow loved Stella. He sat in rapt attention to her every word, every gesture. Her attention to Cockatoo did not affect him. She was his life. All other things were incidental.

Stella is a hard person, with a soft spot for these beautiful birds.

A Fold in Time

Be it so sublime these folds in time that draw the past to now the presence felt of hearts of friends be rendered close so far we can to understand the memories false and real we know our hearts as ages part remembrance so surreal the minds recall the younger self aged cartons current time the milk of youth the wisdom truth realities of our state remember me as friends will be true in mind and self and faith.

Honu

I swim in your hale my dear and favored friend
This place lani kai of salt and clear waters
And life.
You stare to me inviting
Welcome to my home aloha milihini
This place you bring life
Your plate white protective
In peace with surroundings
Your shell green with blue waters
Deep black expressive eyes
Beg follow friend nani
I am safe in your place
My friend mahalo
I return my 'aina
To come see you again

Joe

The mysteries of what may join our present world with the past world is one of conjecture open to passionate debate dependent on which side of the argument you subscribe. To believe in spectres or ghosts or beings ethereal will open one to ridicule from those who believe themselves grounded in sensible realities. Had Norton been asked to participate in the debate he would simply have told you he has felt little in his many years but that when he did feel it was of such intensity to have been like it was of another world.

Of course these were things far from Norton's mind as he trudged the mile or so up the craters edge at Diamond Head. Norton's troubles were in the here and now. Today his age was caught up to him rendering his feet and knees sore and complaining, providing for laboured breathing due to his ample girth, and the significant windless heat was making him perspire heavily causing him embarrassment as his body became visible through the thin cotton shirt.

Norton simply wanted to complete this climb and provide the photographic evidence of his presence here and then return to the conditioned comfort of his home to rest and nurse.

This was not to be.

Once he arrived Norton found himself transfixed by the vast ocean and mountain vista about him. He traced the edge of the crater and noted the five pill boxes strategically placed there in the early 1900's to provide protection to the city below and to each other should an as yet unknown enemy take it upon themselves to threaten these islands.

Norton stared from his perch 800 feet above the Pacific down toward Pearl Harbor and Ford Island. It was eleven o'clock and even now nearly seventy years later he could picture in his mind the planes coming through the mountain passes above the city and focussing downward to the ships and men and air fields dotted about Pearl City. He could sense the battle that would draw a formidable ally into the war against an enemy so intent on destroying this place. Norton could hear the planes as they circled ever closer to the army fortifications of Diamond Head. And then the battle was here, a cacophonous orchestration of explosions and hot metal and burning fuel and frightened and dying men, and powder and death and blood.

And then silence. From the mayhem a simple gesture. A hand upon his right shoulder squeezed and implored Norton to assist a solitary soul. The voice from the young soldier asking him to help. He did not want to die here in this place.

Joe was seventeen and he had just lost his leg to Japanese aircraft cannon. Joe was bleeding to death. He needed help off this crater to a place where he could find his peace. Would Norton help him there?

Norton moved with new purpose. Joe's hand upon his shoulder removed the pain and discomfort of Norton's age renewing him with vigour and strength. Together they navigated the narrow hallways and tunnels through the protective battlements. As they broke into the sunlight a disembodied shout from a fellow soul celebrated Joe's rescue with a "Joe, wooooooo!". Joe was pleased. Joe still had friends upon this mountain all waiting to find their peace.

At the Kukui Grove they stop. "This is the place", says Joe. He wishes his mother were there to provide him comfort for the last part of this journey. She left him shortly after his own passing, imploring him to follow to her to his peace.

Joe lay upon the ground in a place littered by Kukui nuts. Birds gathered about him. Brazilian Cardinals and Java Sparrows, Bulbuds, Myna Birds, and Doves gathered about him to sing and dance with Joe. Flashes of red and black and grey and white mixed with the most heavenly music of birds.

Then silence as the birds pulled back to Joes head. A mongoose, the harbinger of death upon these islands, came from the tall grass next to the grove. He stopped at Joe's feet and stood sniffing the air in each direction. As if to signify his approval the mongoose circled Joe, bowed to him, and scampered back to the grass. The birds returned to song and Joe rose, whole once again. Two butterflies arose from the tall grass and light formed between their flitting orange wings. He walked to the light and the comfort of his mother's arms.

The silence that surrounded Joe's ascension gave way to life present. Children laughed and cried. Lovers held each other close. People and vehicles added their peculiar mix of noise. Birds sang as usual. The noise of the city was barely audible beyond the crater.

Norton sat in silence taking in all he had seen and was seeing. And Norton felt once again.

Kailua Pill Boxes

The idea for this piece came as I was climbing across the ridges above Lanikai Point. There are three war era protective pill boxes still located upon the ridge.


Driving the stubborn old mule up this steep hill was almost more than Danny could take. It was hot and miserable. The knowledge that just the other side of the hill were the steady winds blowing cool off the ocean across Kailua was all that kept him moving. There were no hills like this on the prairie lands where he lived until the war began. These poor mules were laden with ammunition and food and water for the pill boxes placed to protect Bellows Air Field from attacks that were sure to never come. Really, who in their right mind would attack Hawaii?

Danny dropped his loads at boxes one and two. The soldiers grateful for the provisions. As he continued the trek to the third and final box he heard the engines of two planes fire up and take off buzzing near the hills where he had just fortified men and machines. As he arrived at number three, to his right the Japanese planes poured from the pass on their way to strafe the airfield.

The mule died first. A shock to Danny. And the last feeling he would ever possess.