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Grant’s Pass, OR

Welcome. My name is Azra. I’m a multimedia storyteller and friend of Mother Earth.

I was born and raised on the island of O’ahu, in Waipahu, Hawai’i, on Kanaka Maoli land. My father’s family is from the island of Boriken, and my mother’s originally from the Philippines.

I’m grateful to be alive during these transformative times and I hope that my gifts of story make a difference, somehow.

Hawai’i Island w/ spouse & furbaby

  • Las Canciones de los Coquìs

    Las Canciones de los Coquìs

    A midnight chorus sings me awake. Warnings of laughter and future mistakes. Past behind yet further ahead: obsolete technology, like living dead. Whisper ghosts and daemons, too. Echoing caves, ancient sigils, true. Clouds and dust from ear to ear. Shadows flex while children fear. Listen careful, sure-footed Goat, for Mountains move and Rivers float. Old…

  • Poem: R-evolution Whispers

    Poem: R-evolution Whispers

    Paradoxical reveal The bi-polarities shift In plain sight, steal As stellar drift. Harmonious war And layered Truth Of ever-changing lore Beckons the sleuth. Etch into the Sky Cave the Midnight Story One Mind to rave Once fractured glory. For the winged children Immortal Death And the mythic forbidden In star light, steps. Awaken all demons…

  • Midnight Poem: The Path to the Garden

    Midnight Poem: The Path to the Garden

    Time passes slowly, far more quickly, I recall. I foretell…. The shadows on the cave wall whisper the kind of secrets that everyone knows. The ancestors watch. As I balance two worlds at war on these tightrope shoulders while my breath dances with both love and rage. The paradoxical key is invisible to the baby…

  • Poem: Awake at 4 AM

    Poem: Awake at 4 AM

    I am awake at 4 am despite exhaustion in my bones. The mattress springs have rusted from the tears I cannot cry. I am awake at 4 am because my body craves a poem, a witness to the mourning in my soul. A quiet death, invisible butterfly. I am awake at 4 am as white…

  • Poem: Mi Abuelo Muerto

    Poem: Mi Abuelo Muerto

    25 grams of melatonin, three nonfiction chapters, a bowl of chicken soup, and four hours of tossing. Not much has changed since the second grade… Too tired to sleep, I require a deep dive, bobbing for ghosts and ancestral hosts of these haunted homes… Past lives and nightmares, if I’d learned this, then why here,…

  • Poem: Marriages & Peace Treaties

    I woke up in the East and spent my day playing with the Salmon fry, while the Lion crossed the Sky. The ceremony, our hands tied, crowns switched, my wine and her chalice, like Alice, and one sip, just one bite, vegan cake, love, and my wife, and this life, well, it’s just beginning… I…

  • Beat Poetry: Stream of Consciousness

    Beat Poetry: Stream of Consciousness

    Back in the cemetery with invisible friends, feeling nostalgic again, revisiting dead ends, and dead friends, with dead pens, and garlic and obsidian I keep the zombies away, please keep your ego at bay, I got a small child at play, the part, the world’s a stage, if love is war, then your heaven is forged,…

  • Poem: The Question of Love, a Shakespearean Sonnet

    Poem: The Question of Love, a Shakespearean Sonnet

    Tis sweet defeat to love, says Lo Answers Vick, thine sugar is rancid Am I then dunce, asks I, or no For defeat cannot be tasted. Vick, he laughs, at I, and bends Young knave, if defeat is thine candy, Then retire thine tongue, or now, perpend Thou death is thy life’s own fancy. Lo,…