Poems and sculptures by LISA ASAGI
This is a conversation with whales, clay, and poetry.
A wonderment with whales began in a childhood alivened by the early days of the Save the Whales movement and stories from my father of mysterious encounters on overnight boating trips. This fascination resurfaced seven years ago when I found myself working with my hands—clay sculpture and stand-up paddling led to long overdue reconnections with both earth and sea. Research deepened my curiosity: before the centuries of whaling, very different kinds of relationships existed between whales and humans. Here in the 21st century, what’s possible? These pieces are part of an ongoing series of rememberings, imaginings, longings, and offerings.
— Lisa Asagi
Table of Contents:
—Nebula Whale
—Orca of Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark
—Whale of Tender Drops and Warming Falls
—Whale of the Jazz Blue Sea
Nebula Whale, sculpted by the author
Nebula Whale
We and the whales,
and everyone else,
sleep and wake in bodies
that have a bit of everything
that has ever lived. Forests, oceans,
horse shoe crabs, horses,
orange trees in countless of glasses of juice,
lichen that once grew
on the cliffsides of our ancestors,
deepseated rhizomes, and stars.
Even stars are made
of trillions of things and eternal chains
of happenings, clouds of worlds
as small as galaxies.
Orca of Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark, sculpted by the author
Orca of Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark
Orcas move through a world of sound.
They create their own music.
This is how they see in the dark.
May this tiny one
remind us to dance
like this too.
Whale of Tender Drops and Warming Falls, sculpted by the author
Whale of Tender Drops and Warming Falls
No one knows why
water becomes rain
only the how
and maybe the where
not anymore the when.
Have the same drops
been falling
through the epochs?
Would this mean we are listening
to the same song
everywhere
all the time?
Whale of the Jazz Blue Sea, sculpted by the author
Whale of the Jazz Blue Sea
Those incredibly long notes
bending far back into silence.
Water dancing around
the edges of a storm.
A million things moving
a million drops
Lisa Asagi (they, she) is a writer and artist based in the Hawaiian archipelago. An interdisciplinary approach to writing, research, conceptual and visual art feels like home. Their work has appeared in literary journals and anthologies in the US and France, most recently in a folio on Hawai’i writers in The Hopkins Review. This is their first appearance in The Common. More of their art and writing can be found at lisa-asagi.com.
