Album Title: As We Fell

Genre: Spoken Word

Secondary Genre: Indie


1. As We Fell (2009)

2. 26 Steps (2010)

3. Rice Paper Flesh (2011)

4. Someday soon (2009) aka DOG

5. Just Like Silicone Dicks on My Lips? (2010) aka DOG2

6. Man Boobs (2011)

7. Not Girls Like You (2011) aka CHOPSTIX

8. Return to Butch (2011)

9. So I Called You Songbird (2010)

10. Jan Ken Po (2008)


1. As We Fell


“We sang from the gut,

As we burst from our mouths,

We felt the glass crack as we fell.


The sound shot straight through us,

Light filled our eyes,

We felt the glass crack as we fell.”


I’m, searching for the strength,

To sweep away the shadows,

Before we become,

Strangers with the same memories,

A war torn you and me,

Once two minds with one eye

Speaking without language,

Unpackin' each other's baggage,

Until everything got too heavy

You said you'd be leavin' but you've been gone all year

and, I don't want to work at this no more,

My sorrow bores me,

Didn't want this finale, but I will

Pour these words slow,

Let the notes hang before they fly,


Before you and I become planks in an unfinished building,

On a street that is now an old time,

Talkin' bout ourselves in third person,

Put these dreams in one of those old bottles destined for far away shores,


I don't know any more what were ending,

'cause everything is gone,

Even this poem is wrong,

A failed attempt at something beautiful, that

I refuse to finish, but I'll still sing,

'cause everything reminds me of everything,


A touch with no blood

In the embrace,

A smile without face,

and no idea where you'll be when you're gone,


We had no destination,

Just a couple of kids and imagination that made us immortal for a summer,

The summer all the songs are about.

But now, we're just two empties belting into the blackness


We took a wrong turn after we left the peninsula, and

The wind got knocked out of our sails,

It took months to find shore,

The whole crew got bored,

But still somehow our compass had failed,


And as we went down,

You climbed all the way up the mast,

To sing one last beautiful song, and

Maybe that’s the way I’ll remember us,

In the place where we’ve been all along.


So good night Brooklyn,

I'll see you when my lungs can breath dirt again,

But right now, they're just barely takin' in the stale clean air

So I've gotta get before I change my mind


'cause you always look so pretty, and

Your eyes always make me forget,

But not this time,

I've been singin' the blues on the inside just to hide the the trail,

and when i set sail for anywhere but here,

I won't leave no note,

just a couple love poems i saved for a time like this,

with a couple kisses blown into the wind,

and a couple sins I've yet to commit,

and this song before i get gone...


2. 26 Steps


I stepped out behind her,

The last rays of eight o’clock Brooklyn above us,

Onto a sidewalk in Bedstuy my feet had never seen.


I met her three hours ago,

A sweet-lipped femme,

Full Broadway in each movement,

A hint of wind in her scent,

A little bit of spring still left in her skin.


Didn’t know a thing about her,

But I already knew what to expect,

Her timing was perfect,

As soon as my left arm bend upward towards my chest,

Her fingertips wrapped gently on my new bicep, and

Like the last block of a Jenga set-

We just fit.


And in that moment,

All the years that felt like battle became harmony.

She has no idea what she just did for me, and

I didn’t have the words to tell her that day, that-


Your touch- just made every bathroom brawl,

Every ID embarrassment, every

Parental humiliation,

Dressing room rejection, every

T Injection,


Every doctor’s visit,

Harassing slur,

Sideways double-take,

Every pronoun mistake-

OK, ok.


All those years made minute memory in that one second,

A reflection of all that pain forgotten.

And we walked maybe 26 steps,

I remember each time our souls hit the pavement.

She was everything I didn’t know I needed,

No desire to be complete until that moment,

That tiny embrace,

Those 26 steps down half a block.


And my hand reaching for the car door before she slid in without hesitation,

She was my salvation.

Doesn’t even know it,

But she made the every day I tried so hard to calculate,

Just beautiful,

Turned silence into music note, and

Put a little hope for softness back into this boy who spent all year turnin’ brick.


She was sunlight on hard ice, and

I’m slowly comin’ back to life.


3. Rice Paper Flesh


The curve of this cell phone,

Reminds me that somewhere in Brooklyn,

There is a girl calling for my touch,

The glare of the screen,

A reality that

I can be without her, and


This king size bed,

These clean sheets,

The echo of the hollow hotel room walls,

While my body screams in orgasm,

Sometimes sounds so empty,

I am half empty when I’m away,

Waiting to get back to you,


The keys on my fingertips,

Cradling her hips,

Hibiscus bulb,

Guiding my hands to thighs,

Deliciously bucking my palms up to,

The fit of her back,

While I lift her waist into me,

And my body giving in like fresh mochi to her touch, but


This phone call,

I remember- is a fantasy,

As hot as my body gets-

My head still hits the pillow case when I roll over,

Just comforter on my belly,


I am half empty longing to fill the dial tone,

With a soft long moan deep against my ear lobe,

Lip against flesh.


4. Someday Soon


He gave me drink,

Diamond clear water taking my thirst,

When I had given up hope of tasting sweetness again in the desert,

The road was rough, curves sharp,

Making my spirit an ugly clay mass,

That only beats when broken, and


I’ve been broken,

Chipping on all sides even when there is fire,

But the cool of his hands running on my back,

Smoothing over my chest,

Holding me like the wings of a hundred thousand humming birds,

Gently singing while I float away in him,

Towards the horizon.


My heart was a chest at the bottom of the ocean,

Its flesh encased in time,

Piling debris on for protection,

Even my key hole was lost.


But he washed me,

And we never got clean,

But we did shine like the underbelly of a seashell,

Kissed by sunlight for the first time,

As he warmed me,

Turned my insides back to butterflies,

Dancing in a festival of light spilling over that horizon,


His lips breathed back a slow stream of hope,

Twisting through the blood and bone,

Commanding that I move,

So my feet stumbled, and my muscles ached,

With the pain of underuse,


He brought me to an edge I’d been to,

But never peered over,

So when the sweet air touched my lips,

My eyes opened to the water crashing into my stiff body,

As I begged the breeze to push me deeper,


So if I get lost in you sweet boy,

Guide me with the grip of that gentle voice,

That brought me to your lips,

Light show through Portland street lamps

We found for cover when we stayed behind,


And I’ll make you a door frame while we travel,and

Our hands can build the walls with these poems for shelter,

One torn out notebook sheet at a time,

Words for art work,

Sonnets for ceiling, and

Haikus, rengas, free verse for foundation,


So when we find each other again,

We can stand in the middle-

Holding each other as the sunlight peeks through,


Tellin’ a story of two boys,

Who knew each other before they even met,

All vagabond fingertips and fishnet eyelids sayin’


Hey- let’s take this house and put it on a cloud,

Somewhere between Kansas and Nebraska, and

Slingshot stanzas through the windows, so

When the dotted line on our tour maps collide,

We can write this poem one more time,

Pray that we can press rewind,

Knowin’ that today is just a someday soon, and

Maybe someday I’ll love you.

Maybe someday I’ll love you.


5. Just Like Silicone Dicks on My Lips?


A text message:

I watched the sunrise on the way to Berkeley this morning,

My head resting on a drum case I imagine to be your chest.


I underestimated his cock,

Thought sex was just sex just like the opposite sex,

Just like silicon dicks on my lips,

But when he slid inside me,

I didn’t forget I was once a woman,


Like I thought I would,

We smelled of free post show refreshments from a double bill,

I fucked him hard, just to see how much I could handle,


But in and out the moments,

My thoughts turned political,

Retraced identity politics during orgasms,

Never been with a man before,

So I tell him the truth-


I’ve never been with a man before

Never been with a man before,

Never been with a man before,

Never been with a man before.


Never sat on a dick on carpeted floors in a stranger’s apartment,


Shit, this feels good,

Our bodies rocking together,

This feels good,

My hands on his muscular thighs,

This feels good,

The coarse chest hairs under my sweaty palms,


I put my arms around him and breathed in the weight of him,

A scent foreign, yet satisfying, like a secret I caught in the wind,

Pocketing the inhale before my memory released it,

But that moment, just like the dust and debris clinging to my hair in summer breeze,

I couldn’t forget it.


How it felt to be wet with desire,

And fuck- straight up, fuck,

Trying to forget we just met,

Trying to forget this hole was mine,

Trying to forget his male privilege.


When I asked him, what he wanted, he said,

sit on me

And I sat, and it hurt, and in that time between,

ow and ooh

The room stopped spinning,

And I got off him,

Almost falling over in hot queer dirty sex fatigue,and

I took his curls in my hands,

And had him suck my cock, until I came.


6. Man Boobs


Draft One

Bottom lip to unswept pavement, she stares at me

unfortunate monster.

Stranger to Stranger,

this is our exchange.


I am not a public installation,

my hands are in errand,

my eyes still sleepy.

Pre-noon a blur, uninterrupted and slow.


The splattered disgust on her tongue I ignore, but

here I am,

weaker than I thought,

replaying, revisiting, rewriting-


So you’ve never seen a man with boobs?


So you’ve never seen a transman?


So you’ve never seen a trans person?


So you’ve never seen this body?


Most days I settle for,


What the fuck are you looking at?

You got a problem?



The tender comfort of deep night,

Replaced by a slow peel of daylight,

From head to soul,

I cover.


My torn skin aches to scorch under the common sun,

To walk-

Down this piss soaked stoop's-

Flaming red carpet.


Draft 2

Even in my dreams I am queer!

Last night,

David Hasselhoff was my top surgeon,

Only doing half the job,

Sculpting my breasts into two dorsal fins,

Leaving me to wonder,

Is God telling me that I’m trans, but I’m a dolphin?

If so, I’mna need a couple of fins bigger than A cups to swim,

So say a prayer for me,

‘Cause even in my dreams I keep getting fucked, and not even in a good way!


On Monday, I went to a clothing optional beach,

I was scared, but I still stripped,

Longing to feel the sun against my skin,

Washing over tan lines, college binding scars that freckled and faded, and

Life-long stretch marks, I edit my chapters on.

I thought it’s now or never.


We picked the side populated by gay men,

They only briefly stared, before flagging us as lesbians,

And then it was over.


Until we started walking towards the showers,

He makes loud remarks and bayonets laughter,

Into me with his buddies talking about my breasts,

Like the last time, I am frozen,

A group of grown men, I imagine putting the pieces together,

Before I am left picking up the pieces,

Another recurring nightmare.


On these days, I want to replace David Hasselhoff with,

Daniel Dae Kim,

And ask him to finish the job,

With anything that can be sharpened,

Stone, spear, broken shell, make me flat!


I love my chest,

The soft curves of pleasure,

Are mine.


This binding is a patchwork of armour,

A secret uniform for the brave,

An accessory made for beauty and pride,


I something simple, to take the trash out shirtless when its hot,

Boxers on my hip bones,

Tan nude alone with a book and my cock out,

My body pressed against sand in an imprint that,

Travels further than this white washed shoreline.



7. Not Girls like You


I did love her,

To those who say she died barely breathing,

Pinched under my chest,

You will never know this woman,

Who had to leave because I could no longer,

Look at her,


It was the mirror I hated,

The look of a girl so scared that she became stone,

Couldn’t chip if I wanted to,

When I started to love another,

Things got ugly,

I didn’t want to see myself go,

Where was the one who used to run into the rain, savoring the summer sky on her tongue,

Open mouthed to take the long way home,


I was alone, even when I was with her,

All you could see was a blonde girl and a shadow,

A half step behind her like the second blade on a dull razor,

Scraping away at what was already bloody,

I gave her my body,

Unbound myself in the darkness,

The weight of my flesh forcing me to sink deeper into the dorm room sheets,

Falling into a lost love without direction,


I can’t believe I let her fuck me,

I mean her,

Let her fuck her,


The night she began to leave me,

Dinner was silenced,

The waiter carrying our conversation,

From dish to dish,

We almost finished our break up a week later,

My body slumped in Maine,

Her hands loosely dangling the cell phone in Boston,

I drove in as soon as I could,

Didn’t want this bad thing to end,

Saw her at the spot we first met, didn’t even plan it,


I was dumped on the sidewalk,

Without even a door to hit me,

Heard her say,


I like girls- but not- not girls like you, So Kit don’t ask me why I chased, Locked you in place through skin, and sex, and the words that never meant to leave my lips, I’m sorry I started this, And I like girls, but I like girls, So pack your bags ok? Butches can take care of themselves right?


Open your own doors,

Carry yourselves home?

Tuck yourself into bed,

Make a house out of cigarettes and forties.


She ran into the rain that night,

Asked the sky to make a man out of her,


I never wrote about her after that,

Either of her,

They were dead to me while I,

Found myself stubbled and hard,


But after all these years, I still wear her,

Bundle those collared shirts in my arms, and

Breathe in the burden she carried into the night,

Wrap my chest tight and ask her to come back if she’ll forgive me,

I fear that she’ll never forgive me,

The mirror will crack if I ask her to,

Come back.


8. Return to Butch


BUTCH was a slur,

The first time I was called that,

I was 16 growing up in Hawaii,

My best friend said it and I got so pissed off, we didn’t speak for 3 months,

She used it to describe my looks,

I wasn’t even or out as queer yet,

But I was a golf playing, roller blading, always tanned, t-shirt and shorts kinda girl,

And Renee was just trying to say that I was presenting as masculine,

But we didn’t have that kinda language back then,

So she said Butch and I hated her for saying it out loud even though it wasn’t mean,

Because suddenly I saw myself,

Knowing that that’s how my friends saw me too.


When I moved to Boston for business school,

I made myself a new identity,

Watered the little Butch seeds in a garden of American queers,

Who celebrated, defined, re-defined, and fucked with Butch,

I was dealing with so much culture shock at the time,

I didn’t know what hit me,

Suddenly I was a minority,

Desperately treading manners, food, places, and

Queerness- not understanding I was assimilating, and

Changing- short hair, new name, polos,

Cargo shorts, starched shirts, wide collars,

Shiny shoes, and dance parties.


Ooh the dance parties,

Girls who had their eye on me,

Like I was hot!

Imagine that! somewhere in Boston,

A baby butch awkwardly dancing with a Heineken against a wall,

Her Asian features estrogen soft,

But her hard stare of self reflection and inner turmoil,

Just barely showing enough for the girls to wonder,

How do I crack that?

THAT was hot?!


In Boston, I found a new family,

The slams welcomed my new identity politics based poetry,

My new gay wonder, and celebration of self,

And the white queers let me in to listen their radical rants,

I skipped so many steps I thought I had to go through,

The ridicule, the judgement, the rejection I saw on tv,

Queer Boston was a dream,

I skipped school to be queer.


In my third year, I actually went to the school nurse for quick fix to my gender,

I was sent to a Wellesley Hills psychologist,

The kind of place where every waiting room visit,

Was filled with by millionaires’ kids,

And then look at me- a broke ass immigrant,

Quietly waiting to get diagnosed,

Because I read somewhere online that I had to have a disorder,

To change my body,

So I sat, for 2 years, I sat,

Slowly exploring my gender identity, and

How I would be a member of society, once it was all over.

All over, I actually thought that hormones and surgery,

Would be the end of the long rainbow brick road.


So there I was, after 2 years in psychotherapy,

Butch to Transman trying not to look back,

I thought I had to abandon Butch,

Leave it for a new lesbian to crawl into its over-sized shell and walk around in,

But how could I hide that Butch inside that never really left?


When I no longer passed as butch,

I still went to dyke bars with my friends,

But in the exact same spaces,

I wasn’t hot any more,

From the bouncers at the door,

To the people at the bar,

Things were different,

There was so much harassment.


But those days were hard,

So many questions at the bar just to get a drink,

I didn’t have time to think about what was happening,

I just dealt with the women who kicked me out of the men’s restrooms,

Then wouldn’t let me in the women’s room,

Girls who called me creepy,

And the stares came hard,

Suddenly, the Boston I loved was gone,

But I didn’t know where else to go.


When people think you’re a man,

You slowly become one,

Is that even true?


It’s been five years now, and

I still look in the mirror,

With a mix of pride and disbelief,

And sometimes grief,

For the woman and man I lost, and the one I see a glimpse of,

On the ugly days.


Today, well I am a dab Butch and Butch questioning,

Trying to reconnect with the parts of me I loved when,

I was a baby Butch dancing off-beat,

A little shy,

Looking away when eyes were made at me,

And remembering that Butch has so many definitions,

I can try a bunch of them on and not worry if it doesn’t fit,

As long as I look good when I step in,

And my boiys are at my side,

Rocking that pink,

That cap,

That tie,

That neon,

That white T,

That ruffle,

That bow,

We’ll just bring all we got and make THAT kind of Butch more than enough.


9. So I Called You Songbird


How’d I end up here?

Alone at the Jazz club, last sip of Guiness goin’ to the gut,

While the last licks of Lincoln Center fade behind me as I walk out the door,

The heel clicks, remind me that these dress shoes were for this,

But you left an hour ago and while I was at the bar, I sang a song for you.


It was way off tune,

In fact, it sucked,

But this is what dreams are made of,

The fragile illusions my favorite,

We just met, but I can't quit,


Your voice is the lullaby I’ve been looking for,

Maybe you knew before I did,

How serendipity worked,

'cause I've been there and it lied,

Can't say I never gave love a try,

I remember the sound of your last line,

Wonderin' if this is where you brought me on purpose.


But you gotta go,

and I'm screamin' no on the inside, but hiding it just to play cool,

Please stay

a minute more, for a first mistake,


Lullaby baby bye for now,

Night comes down soon and I won’t be around,

On stage kora flirted with fiddle,


The spoon ran away,

Still you want me to stay.


You came out the sky to serenade this boy who barely knew your name,

So I called you, Songbird,

From London in this Brooklyn apartment,

Sittin' on my couch,

Drinkin' out my cups,

An illusion I just couldn't get enough of.


Each note a pillow I desperately tried to lay my head on,

But when the sun rose, you were gone to the next city on a tour bus to Boston,

While I lugged my over night bags to Ohio,

Checked in my hopes at the airport of ever seeing you again.


You were off to make standstill of another room,

and I guess I'm lucky I've got this night to remember,

'Cause I don't have your number,

But I've got your voice in my bones,

And I'm alone, but I wasn't when you sang,

I' might never be the same again,

'Cause I know you're out there singing into the pen air,

and I know the breeze will bring you back to me.

If nothing else, the breeze will blow...


Lullaby baby bye for now,

Night comes down soon and I won’t be around,

On stage kora flirted with fiddle,


The spoon ran away,

Still you want me to stay.


10. Jan Ken Po


Jon Ken Po,

I ken sho,


Mrs. Yamashita introduces the new girl,

She is so fobby, second hand t-shirt, shaky English vocabulary,

And the little one looks at her with first grade disdain,

Neither one knowing that one day they’d be best friends.

Two girls swinging in silence, side by side,

Long lunch lines and crowded wooden tables,

With Angry old Mrs. Wong forcing us to eat teriyaki beef, play nice, and drink whole milk,


We used to meet at the corner by the dogs barking to walk to the park,

Felt so long for our little kid legs,

Summers spent in shambattle, and swapping lunches,

I tried to trick you into giving me your Doritos for my dried plums.


When I got my license, we drove to the beach to eat jack in the box,

Way easier than the miles in Hawaiian heat just to get a small Dave’s ice cream and a slushee.


Back den we never had cell phones,

So we dialed each other’s house numbahs by memory to talk about nothing for hours While sitting on hibiscus covered couches,

I told my maddah I was coming over fo’ do homework,

But eh- all I wen do wuz copy yours and watch mtv,

‘Cause you had the cable and your maddah worked nights.


Our group was so tight back den,

Picking puka shells at da secret beach, eating boiled soy beans and peanuts,

Going to each other’s track meets and dance recitals,

Riding in limos to prom nights, maile leis and pikake accenting our outfits.


But ho-

When did we decide to be big kids?

Lounge on dark Starbucks suede instead of Crestview park grass after class,

Trade in our small towns of da Pacific,

For a chance to be free of all that made us big?


I’m kinda scared on da mainland, so no let go of my hand,

Even though our schools are in different states, and

Will you keep our picture frames even when you make new friends?

And when we eat at the mainland chains like Cheesecake factory,

Will you forget the Mikis and Mitsuken we ate when we skipped school?

Trading in old classrooms for dirty parking lots,

But I know,

Beef stew, fried rice, and garlic chicken memories don’t fade easily.


And I’ll try not to let pressure of midterms get the best of me,

I’ll call you drunk after the party just to hear your voice,

The only words genuine in a room full of slurred promises,

So promise me you won’t forget my house number,

When we get too busy to cruise.


‘Cause when school’s out,

Eh0- I gonna call your house, and you’ll come to mine,

To say hi to our moms, with

Korean pears and mochi in our arms,

Talk story until da morning rain,

When the drip, drip, drip’s in harmony,

With the rise and fall of our chests in an accidental sleep, and


Today we’ll wake up in New York City not knowing how we got here,

The snowflakes falling as we catch up over apple cider and rum,

Sweet conversation filling the room with all our braddahs and sistahs together,

And our week’s vacation will eventually be ova,

But the mass emails will keep us safe,


Maybe one day we’ll all live sort of close ah?

Bring our kids to the reunion,

Have a big luau buffet style Laurie’s chicken long rice,

Renee’s shoyu chicken, Philamer’s lumpia, Brian’s blueberry pie, Sky’s nishime, Tyler’s Ahi poke, Keri’s triple chocolate cookies, Sherri Ann’s paper plates, and my house old photo albums and big couches all over the place for you to relax,

And when da meal is over,

Adults on the right, all da little keiki’s on the left,

Staring each other down…

Ichi, ni, san, alright, go!


Jon ken po,

I ken sho


Jon ken po,

I ken sho

Upcoming Shows!

Please visit Booking Information to reserve your date!

2014/2015 Dates:

June 11: Feel It, Speak It, Boston Pride, Milky Way Cafe, Jamaica Plain, MA, 9pm.

June 24: Cipher Cabaret, Buddies in Bad Times Theater, Toronto, 8pm. 

June 25: University of North Florida, Jacksonville, FL, 7pm.

August 6-9: NQAPIA National Conference, Chicago, IL.

August 19-21: Colorado State University, Fort Collins, CO.

September 1-13: Chicago Fringe Festival, Chicago, IL.

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