Garrett Hongo Poems

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
...

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

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

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