Poet, Performer, Dancer, Storyteller, Yogini
my lover tells
all my secrets
nothing stays inside
a paper sliding door
torn by the wind
Genie Nakano
I was born
with two strikes
against me
Asian and…
my mother didn’t like me
I wanted to be golden wear a curly blonde crown of Shirley Temple locks Into my teens I streamed, oye orale pues orale pues I poemed my story right on write on Blackness became my call I danced the moves wore the hats and sang off key Now at 73 a hybrid a tribrid a unitard something in between a floating world I was, will be, I am genie Nakano, 10.15.21
Sky
you’ve been holding on
too long
pour it on
my droughtful mind.
Picking, poking
on myself
I’m alright
and so is he
I’m not a Buddha yet.
There’s more
to come out
of this cage
the Zebra goes first
then others follow
some crawl, some swim,
some even fly
Melting down
the yellow chakra
I care less and less
for what’s
out there
Just want to touch
those states of bliss
let them drip
through my fingers
then move on to…
Where
I don’t know
sitting on
right now
breathing
in and out
inner
smile
smiles
drop the jaw
lift the chin
catch me
as I
circle the sun
Iridescence
free falls
Revised poem: November 14, 2021
Genie Nakano
Melting the armor
off my shoulders…
meditation
Genie Nakano, November 8, 2021
there are days like this…
the weather
has changed to misty grey
summer
held in check and global heat
is swept under cover
that is…
until the fires sweep again
strange things
happening to our air, waters, soil
stirring doubts at tea parties
why bear children
in a world that won’t
be around
much longer
so the prophets claim
I still have hope
I guess–maybe–who cares
let the future
take care of itself
I’m retired
sirens blow
every hour day and night
heart attack
robbery murder rape
play it louder–I’m deaf
waiting
for the aliens to come down
and teach us
show us humans
how to live another way
Genie Nakano, Sept. 5, 2018
sometimes
I fall when I smell
the back of your neck
like a puzzle
falling into place
Genie Nakano, 1991
born in ELA barrios I live in a world of dualities in my tight skirt and sweater I can cha cha 'n hully gully down but I don't know who I am I peroxide my black hair red rat it high, rat it high pierce my ears with catholic cross orale pues-sansei Buddha- head become a wannabe chola homeroom teacher sends me to the back of the room my hair is too high to see over she calls me a disgrace oye, better to nap in the back back eyeliner, jade green shadow I look older now don't I times going to slow I want to get out of here I am Maria of Westside Story in my purple skirt I twirl with amateur grace round and round and then again ... suddenly a balance that's it for me dance sets me free forget those guys, those blackened eyes catch me in the rye while legs grow strong my spine becomes a willow time moves in rhythm and everything makes sense the world becomes a dance keep on is all I say you call me a show-off now I don't care - 'cause I feel good and don't you wish you had my legs orales pues, write on, right on
my daughter
the old man said
you are pale
and need more yang
earth between your toes
Obsessed, Daughter stays in her room. She opens the windows and stares out at the sky. Her black hair streaked by moonlight, glistens. Her skin casts an ephemeral blue. Chanting deep into the night, her eyes grow dark and somber.
in a never ending
stream of consciousness
she tries
to grab
the winter moon
She chants for days and nights, breath upon breath, whispers in the air. Is this a dream—that soon will end with the melting snow. No, it’s too late. Her hair becomes midnight, her face radiant. She can’t be stopped. Father must let her go.
Out from the window she ascends making the legend come true. The young daughter twirling in moonlight—spiraling on mist—grabs a slice of enlightenment and never comes back again.
The finger pointing at the moon is not the moon.
Genie Nakano,
September 14, 2021
Genie Nakano