Garrett Hongo Poems

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The Legend

In Chicago, it is snowing softly
and a man has just done his wash for the week.
He steps into the twilight of early evening,
carrying a wrinkled shopping bag

Something Whispered In The Shakuhachi

No one knew the secret of my flutes,
and I laugh now
because some said
I was enlightened.

What For

At six I lived for spells:
how a few Hawaiian words could call

I Got Heaven...

I Got Heaven...
I swear that, in Gardena, on a moonlit suburban street,

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