You’ve never been to Honolulu.
Let me take you in my mind.
.
I’ll meet you at the airport, whip you
straight downtown to show you
.
everything: There is nothing here.
There is nothing left.
.
The ships across the water never move.
The bay unfolds itself to the sun and sky.
.
A highway runs between us on the empty
streets and Aloha Tower, abandoned.
.
We’ll pass ‘Iolani Palace boarded
up in the blazing afternoon.
.
The office buildings crumble down.
No one living is around.
.
The park has yellow grass
under the heavy air. You want it
.
to rain onto yr moist skin
but it will never rain again.
.
Turn your face to the left and look at me.
This poem was included in my book "I want you to feel ugly, too," which can be read on issuu.
About the Creator
Joe Nasta
Hi! I'm a queer multimodal artist writing love poems in Seattle, one half of the art and poetry collective Eat Yr Manhood, and head curator of Stone Pacific Zine. Work in The Rumpus, Occulum, Peach Mag, dream boy book club, and others. :P
A CLOSE ENCOUNTER
Stars twinkled brightly in a moonless sky, reflecting in the calm waters of Lake George in the Adirondack mountains of upstate New York. It was a warm August night, as we laid back in the boat, marveling at the magnificent Milky Way. Dark skies made the stars more brilliant at this time of year, especially during a new moon, causing wonder and enchantment. We never tired of stargazing while floating on water, a truly immersive experience.
By Jon H. Davis5 days ago in Fiction
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