Pure Manaʻo

A student asked me where the stories come from to fill up my blank sheets of paper on the Elmo as they furiously try and make their 5-minute daily writing word count. I write, you write. Five minutes of furious drafting times three classes a day. I’ve been doing this for 20 years. I’ve put in my 10,000 hours of writing on blank sheets of paper. Making something out of nothing. But really, it’s because I’ve always had big ears. The kind that stick out when I try to make my hair lie flat against my face, the kind that pop out from under the edge of the hat. Big ears to sit silent under the breakfast table until everyone forgets I’m there and then the stories come they always come if I wait long enough and stick my big ears up into the sky like an antenna they always come.

Take my right slipper when you break yours Take my jacket button to hold up your pants.. Take my prayers floating skyward, let them whisper you to sleep. Take my eyes to help you search for what eludes you. Take my book when words betray you, Take my hands to tether you. Take my intestines to center yourself and at the end of the days when I have nothing left to take but my left earring, take this poem and know love.