WEBVTT

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So we have some
great, great readers.

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And let's just get
into it right now.

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All right.

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First we have-- first
up is Christopher Diaz.

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He is a CHamoru writer,
performer, and photographer.

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He's been featured by NBC News,
Poets & Writers.org, and more.

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Please welcome Christopher.

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[APPLAUSE]

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Håfa adai, mañe'lu-hu.

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Guåhu si Christopher
Sablan Diaz.

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CHamoru [?sen?]
taotao Guahån yu.

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Greetings, friends
and relatives.

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My name is Christopher
Sablan Diaz.

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I'm a CHamoru from the
Pacific island of Guåhan.

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And I extend my
sincerest gratitude

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from the deepest
parts of my heart.

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To all of the faculty and
the fellows at In-Na-Po,

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I thank you not only for
being here with me this week,

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but for continuing to
be with me in spirit

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as we depart here soon
because all of the wisdom

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and generosity that each
and every one of you

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has poured into me,
I know will continue

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to teach me, and guide me in
my work on and off the page.

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So I have two poems
to offer this evening,

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and in choosing
these poems, I tried

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to give myself
permission to share

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what feels most resonant
in my body, in this moment,

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and at this place in my journey.

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So this first poem
is titled things I

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sound, like and the breath
I take before I tell you

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I was in the military.

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A tea bag slumped in the
shadow of dirty dishes,

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a load of laundry sinking to
the bottom of a to do list.

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A light switch writing
letters to a burned out bulb.

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Propellers on the rows and rows
of planes that can't be buried.

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Graveyard skin, two
unfound avocados.

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Cheek to cheek.

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Praying the search
party hasn't stopped.

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An earthworm's eyelids
dreaming in drought.

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A deer's limp tongue held
by palms of the asphalt.

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Leaves the breath of
burgundy looking down

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October lawns littered
with islands of its coffee

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colored siblings.

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Insulation in the attic.

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Garden hose in the winter.

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The doorknob detached and
sitting on the counter.

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Forehead resting against
its own reflection.

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The savior of its new
screws crawling I-5.

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Rush hour molasses
running on fumes.

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The roof and the bones it
has to pick with the sky.

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A cloud only born to
release all its become.

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[APPLAUSE]

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