Fuck You-Aloha-I Love You

by Juliana Spahr

This book of documentary poetics is by an important up and coming female experimentalist.

Genres: Poetry

96 pages, Hardcover

First published November 27, 2001

About the author

Juliana Spahr (born 1969) is an American poet, critic, and editor. She is the recipient of the 2009 Hardison Poetry Prize awarded by the Folger Shakespeare Library to honor a U.S. poet whose art and teaching demonstrate great imagination and daring.

Both Spahr's critical and scholarly studies, i.e., Everybody’s Autonomy: Connective Reading and Collective Identity (2001), and her poetry have shown Spahr's commitment to fostering a "value of reading" as a communal, democratic, open process. Her work therefore "distinguishes itself because she writes poems for which her critical work calls." In addition to teaching and writing poetry, Spahr is also an active editor. Spahr received the National Poetry Series Award for her first collection of poetry, Response (1996).

(from Wikipedia)

Reviews

[Maile · Rating 5 out of 5]

These five poems are experimental but surprisingly accessible (while not at all simple), and I love how she subtly enters the ordinary, everyday messes of space in Hawai’i. She seems to translate the deeply ingrained colonialism of things like barriers to public access of Palolo Stream into beautifully radical, precocious children’s stories. She pulls cliched local catch phrases like da kine close to the chest again. From her poem things:

There are these things and they

are da kine to me. They are the tear.

The torn circle.

There are these things and they are

the circle malformed, pulled tight

in one place. These things are the

symbol of all not being right. They

are da kine for me.

Da kine for me is the moment when

things extend beyond you and me

and into the rest of the world. It is

the thing.

Like two who love each other

breaking eye contact and coming

out of that love and back into the

conversation.

A quick internet search also took me across Spahr’s collection of essays and poems online here. It was her essay 2199 Kalia Road (with images by Candance Ah Nee) that made me think her style is like the best possible kind of children’s book: short, direct sentences that lead you by the hand into a familiar-unfamiliar world.

I just can’t tell you how much I appreciate this work.

[Farren · Rating 3 out of 5]

A noble project, but a little repetitive. By the time I reached the lengthy poem that excerpts a tumbling manual, I was all, I GET IT.

The book is worth reading, if only for the third poem "Switching":

"This impossible position.

This position that does not even give the most pleasure.

And yet we place all our hope in this touching.

As touching, gathering, happens
in the most difficult places at
the most difficult times."

[Dawn · Rating 4 out of 5]

Juliana Spahr is good and she sort of knows that. There's this quality in there, something going on in the knowing-everything of it. The poems should be a little more brittle than they are, they could be as paul says leaky or something so as to put to use all of her talent and intellegence and make the whole thing a little more brave and do it a little like we are humans and we are sort of talking.

Ok. The poems aren't really that impersonal, but she got on my very bad side when she said that nature poems were 'immoral.' That's an i, not an a. So let's be c-c-c-conscious of the political implications of etimological variations. Also let's all eat my shorts.

[Juliet · Rating 2 out of 5]

This only gets 1 1/2 stars from me. Not my style at all.

[Liquidlasagna · Rating 3 out of 5]

uhh...
you tell me

/////

Number One

While the parking lot is unused,

while the stream is rich and full,

the parking lot represents the
general feeling of the space.

There is the parking lot of
limited space

the parking lot of owned by
certain of we

the parking lot of no possibility of
use

the parking lot of being unable to
park

the parking lot of growing from
the stream of gathering's freshness
of water

the parking lot beneath the
highway beside the stream of
gathering.

/////

Number Two

In culture we have muscles and
we use these muscles to let us
move towards and on top and out
of each other.

We build ourselves into a
configuration.

We tremble as we do this.

Even after we have built, we
tremble. (“a younger man, / an older man, / and a woman”)

/////

i Want A Lot More
i think i'm being gypped on my consciousness here

i mean where are the scenes of nine legged cats with tentacles being just flung a bowling pins?

from my 2074 limited edition book
Archie Bunker makes a a bet with Kowalski

oh sure, lear at me in disgust
well if you peel off the Warhol Apricot peel sticker
it says polack

Fuck You Kowalski, I love the way you bowel
oops i mean bowl

yeah i
know
this is not the most tidy
of reviews about
the turd in the punch bowl

which really was a play on words of

word in the lunch hole

It was a poetry venue like

the hungry i

/////

The first time I heard it was a quote by Elvis.
Along the lines of, "He looked at me like I was a turd in a punch bowl."

1958 party pooper
1978 turd in the punchbowl

/////

Nomination of Dennis C. Blair to be Director of National Intelligence Director
Page 113
United States Congress - Senate
Select Committee on Intelligence 2009

It is absolutely incorrect that I ever referred to Taiwan itself as the "turd in the punchbowl of U.S./China relations ." Whoever gave this account to the press was maliciously attempting to portray me as a supporter of China at the expense of Taiwan. I did in fact use the too-colorful phease "tossing a turd in the punchbowl" in a closed meeting in 2000, but the phrase referred to a specific action by a former Taiwanese government that had been taken without consulting the United States, that has led to a confrontation between the United States and China that neither had sought, and that did not benefit Taiwan. My characterization referred to a single, specific action by the Taiwanese government, certainly not Taiwan itself. I have never made negative comments about United States policy towards Taiwan in the past. I have stated opinions about statements and actions of particular American officials and administartions which I believed to be inconsistent with the Taiwan Relations Act is a solid foundation for American policy towards Taiwan.

earliest reference?

Ski Area Management - Volumes 17-20 - 1978
Page 66

FOUND INSIDE – PAGE 66

... turd in the punchbowl . The answer , I think , is for all of us to come out from behind our previously - prepared positions , stop stone- walling and sniping ( how dull that'll be ! ) and try to iden- tify what we really do know from ...

[Joseph Spuckler · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fuck You-Aloha-I Love You by Juliana Spahr is a collection of poetry with a Hawaiian theme. Spahr earned a BA in languages and literature from Bard College and a PhD in English from SUNY Buffalo. Spahr’s interests revolve around questions of transformation, language, and ecology. Concerned with politics without being overtly political, Spahr’s work crosses a variety of American landscapes, from the disappearing beaches of Hawaii to the small town of her Appalachian childhood. She has taught at Siena College and at the University of Hawaii at Manoa. She is currently an associate professor of English at Mills College. 

I first ran across Spahr's writing in a collection of alternative poetry. I forgot what the poem was but, after reading it, it was enough to for me to order this collection. Spahr's work is interesting and takes an original look at life and our environment. She plays with here and there and joins it with tears. She takes a room and compares its function and the behavior of its occupants by a simple piece of furniture -- the difference that a table or a bed makes in the room. Separating and joining. Closed against open. Uncertainty and confidence.

She compares a parking lot and the stream that runs adjacent to it. The parking lot for some reason has no access. Two buildings block opposite sides. The stream blocks the other. The last side is closed off with a fence. It is space for simply space's sake. The parking lot is unused, but the stream is alive. This leads to a discussion of rights that we think we have and the rights that are written or limited. It is a call for the recognition of the rights of native Hawaiians have been slowly losing to urbanization and profits.

Spahr lines are short and her verses are short, sometimes just a single line. The style is enjoyable as well as clear and crisp. Despite the title, it is not offensive or distasteful. A very worthwhile read.

(I read this for my own enjoyment and not for review.)

[Courtney LeBlanc · Rating 4 out of 5]

A collection of five long poems that are repetitive, with distinct subjects that stand alone.

from Localism or T/Here: "And we are missing our bed and all its com- / forts that come night after night / without end and sometimes during / the day also and are singular even / when coupled, doubled, and tripled / and have something to do with the / comforter's down coming from the / duck."

from Things: "I am trying to tell you about things, / about da kine. // Moments of looking up and out, / opening up the chest after looking / down all day. // There are these things. // Words that flip switches. // I am trying to say how they work / in a world that I am close with. // I am in a place called there and I / am trying to make it into a place / called here."

[hh · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5

[Sarah · Rating 4 out of 5]

A lot to like here, with sprawling cycles and circles, literal descriptions that feel figurative.

[Isaac Salazar · Rating 5 out of 5]

Weird. So much said about culture as a kind of choreography.

[Lara · Rating 4 out of 5]

Looked up a few Hawaiian words, quite enjoyed that.

[Mcatania21 · Rating 5 out of 5]

Spahr’s “Fuck You-Aloha-I Love You” is both an exploration of Hawaii’s politics as well as a personal poem about finding the poet’s identity as a foreigner. Even the provocative title is a demonstration of repetition: she pairs the American expletive “Fuck You” with the peaceful and affectionate Hawaiian term “Aloha” with the powerful, simple American term of endearment, “I Love You.” In each of her five poems, repetition easily moves us from line to line, page to page, and poem to poem. She repeats certain letters, sounds, words, phrases, lines, imagery, and themes to establish a beautiful and tropical rhythm, while also conveying various moods, such as playful, sorrowful, or displaced. The first thing I noticed was her repetitive illustrations, and I was curious what these tiny, stick-like figures meant after the title of each of her poems?



In “localism or t/here,” Spahr plays with the familiar phrasing neither “here” nor “there.” The speaker feels exiled in both love and location. I love the consonance used in this metaphor: “we are arrows of loving lostness.” Spahr also switches from first person plural “we are” to second person “you are” to show that even though she is surrounded by people that are: “coupled, doubled, tripled,” she still feels lonely. I enjoyed her half rhyme here: “rain/complaint,” where she characterizes the island, but I also found this line odd and out of place: “accepting of the refrigerator.” The words are clunky and don’t seem to fit in with her melodic repetition.



In, “Things,” Spahr injects island dialect to describe an out of place feeling. “Da kine” is repeated throughout the poem to describe emotions she cannot name. The term “Da kine” sounds very similar to the English word “kind,” but it is more complex and can mean anything. Spahr also repeats words from her previous poems and carries the theme over into her subsequent poems. For example, she uses the word “tear,” which carries multiple meanings because it can be read as a verb, to physically break apart, but it can also be read as a noun, a single tear that drips from the eye, meaning sadness. One of my favorite lines in this poem is “things are fragile far away.” I love how Spahr brings in the perspective of an astronaut; it’s very unexpected. She also uses a paradoxical repetition of “right/alright” with this phrase: “how things are not right yet how things will be alright.” All of her metaphors are fresh, from the clown to the mosh pit.



In “Gathering palolo stream,” Spahr continues her “things” theme with the repetition of the phrasing, “A place allows certain things.” She discusses cultural foods and traditions, and she plays with the term “right” once again. What is truly ours? Do we really have possessions? The more we try to acquire material things, the more we alienate ourselves. Property lines create barriers and restrictions from our community and deny the “gathering” and sharing that Hawaii is traditionally known for.



“Switching,” is laced with sexual innuendos; she uses tables and beds as metaphors. She also carries out the “gathering theme” from her previous poem. She sees sex as a pleasurable act, but it is also a way of interacting and communicating more meaningfully then talking. Sexual positions stand for different conversations. The table signifies the limitations we feel in public, while the bed signifies the freedom and desire we explore in private. Spahr also continues her theme of displacement. She is lost between the “I” and the “we” when she says: “I am lost between two places.” Perhaps she becomes more comfortable with uncertainty with this line: “I have abandoned sureness.” I particularly enjoyed the repetition of the “ing” verbs at the end of this poem: “Swelling/touching”; “listening/changing”; and “separation/joining.”



“A younger man, an older man, and a woman” was my least favorite poem. There is so much repetition that it becomes confusing and monotonous with the sexual positions stated over and over and the metaphor of a woman as a tower, younger man as support, and an older man as a bridge. The underlying theme here is learning how to balance, trust, and have faith in oneself.



In her final poem, “we,” Spahr injects more comedy into her repetitions, such as: “we who get married married married.” She observes the culture, but is also participating in it with the “we who” phrases. She judges her own ridiculousness, but perhaps to her, it’s a sign of success. She finally feels a part of the “we” on the island. I think this line is very telling: “there is no personal story without we.”

[Richard Leis · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a short book of poetry that I think demonstrates well the idea that a poet and her poems should teach the reader how to read her poetry. The use of repetition and allegory, simple language, and returning to similar themes quickly trained me how to read the book. In the process, I did find it occasionally too repetitive. In these spots, I tried to enjoy the sound of the repetition, the same words again and again, sometimes with building variations, leading eventually to insight. Also helpful were concluding pages of prose that summarized some of the issues addressed in each poem.

In "a younger man, an older man, and a woman," acrobats hang off of and balance each other in feats of strength and balance, lending their motion and intimacy to the poet's proposal for a unified society that is aware of their differences, just as a younger man, an older man, and a woman are different from each other, but can work together with graceful outcome. The extended metaphor is full of tension generated by the different configurations of the three acrobats, and it leads eventually to a universal "we" that eliminates age and gender.

This poem and the other poems disturbed me, though. Spahr is not a native of Hawaii and outsider status that she engages with in her poems. This approach, however, seemed to lead to a sense of narrator that is elitist and entitled, though the narrator is gesturing to the wellbeing and rights of the native people. It is as if after oppression and outsider arrives to insist on unity, a unity that the native people might not want. Maybe they want justice, or maybe they just want to be left alone. The poet also co-opts local phases and concepts, a process that itself gives a sense of colonial entitlement. What is meant as "Look, I'm must like you because I can use your language and concepts, too" comes across as cold and unfeeling.

But I don't know anything at all about Hawaiian politics or racial interactions, so my reading is immediately suspect. The poetry leaves me uneasy about a topic I don't know anything about, while admiring of the craft, and particularly impressed with the use of grounded movement and ideas and objects reflecting much larger topics and abstractions.

[Renee Alberts · Rating 2 out of 5]

Spahr's poems read like philiosophical arguments--series of premises leading up to conclusions. The effect is at turns pretentiously distant or urgently inviting. The back of the book (which you should definitely read, since it describes the subject matter of the several long poems more explicitly than the poems themselves) calls this "documentary Poetics."

In Fuck You-Aloha-I Love You, she explores ideas of connection and place using the example of her home, Hawai'i, and its complex environment of geographic isolation and multicultural proximities. Poems in the volume incorporate imagery and from her previous book (they could almost be read as companions) This Connection of Everyone With Lungs, which I find infinitely more accessible and emotive.

[Libby · Rating 5 out of 5]

Seven long poem-thoughts. Echoes and repetitions of hellos and goodbyes...

I especially love her description of the pidgin "da kine" or the word you use when you don't use the word...

"There are these things and they

are da kine to me. They are the tear.

The torn circle.

There are these things and they are

the circle malformed, pulled tight

in one place. These things are the

symbol of all not being right. They

are da kine for me.

Da kine for me is the moment when

things extend beyond you and me

and into the rest of the world. It is

the thing.

Like two who love each other

breaking eye contact and coming

out of that love and back into the conversation "

[Lightsey]

This isn't my usual (ah, the public library)--and it's not poetry of a type that I strive to write--and, you know, sometimes this book drove me up the wall with its repetitions and its rather nun-like finger-wagging chaste little sentences. But one poem in here did poke a few holes in my tent. "Culture is when. . ." she begins each section (or "In culture,"), and then she goes on to describe a gymnastic formation, very line by line, prosaically. I'm still not sure what it amounts to, but I like the way it rings in my head.

[P. · Rating 5 out of 5]

Juliana Spahr writes the kind of poetry that I normally have a hard time liking. I love her poetry. Which is fitting, because the poetry is about the paradoxes. All the paradoxes. It's political and sort of theoretical and it asks you to grapple with language. It does it very well. And to make sure of that fifth star from me, she has titled this book with a pretty much perfect title. Thanks, Juliana!

[Bryan J. Pitchford, MFA · Rating 1 out of 5]

One might call this "experimental, but surprisingly accessible" to sound educated, but one is putting on airs. "Experimental" in this case is code for, "I have no clue what I just read, but I want you to think I am in the know. Oh! Look at all the uncreased, leather-bound tomes on my bookshelves of rich mahogany".
Dear reader, I have been in love with poetry for a long time. Unfortunately, this is utter drivel and I am sorry I was forced to purchase it for an MFA course.

[Kent · Rating 5 out of 5]

Poetry should be allowed to play the same game as orchestral music. When there's a good part, and you know it's a good part, you should get to repeat it in ways that are meaningful to the poem and the listener. That's what Fuck You, Aloha does. And in ways that nudge more meaning onto the page. A true pleasure.

[Nancy · Rating 2 out of 5]

I hear here the same music (a lullaby?) that I hear in Gertrude Stein. I did enjoy very much the poem that circles "da kine" and the sticky mixed up mosh pit. But the other poems felt like notes written after an intimate writers yoga retreat that I didn't go to.

[D_ · Rating 1 out of 5]

The emperor isn't wearing any clothes. I can't find any merit in this book. The structure, the form, and the sound aren't interesting. The subjects of the poems, whether sex or environmentalism, come across as cliche rather than compelling because they are completely vague and inhuman.

[Colleen Mills · Rating 4 out of 5]

Poetry: An intriguing look at the interactions of writer reader, individual vs. community.

[Joshua Corey · Rating 5 out of 5]

Personal and all-encompassing at once. Broke my heart -- in a cleansing way.

[Logan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Instructional. Sensual. Flowing, gentle, direct sort of language and rhythm that mostly only Spahr achieves so easily these days.

[Nicole ( Colie ) · Rating 4 out of 5]

9.11 and Iraq War news obsession, pitted against lovely morning skin-against-skin and the sound of Hawaiian birds. Spare, simple, repetitive, important.

[Wendy · Rating 5 out of 5]

I love you, Juliana Spahr!

[Rick · Rating 5 out of 5]

switching is my favorite contemporary poem of all time.

[Erikaaaa · Rating 5 out of 5]

I feel a lot a lot of warmth for this book. Wow! Way to use some language. I will read "Da kine" a hundred times.

[Holly Raymond · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was reading Juliana Spahr on the beach. It worked pretty well. A year prior, what was I reading on the beach? Seneca and Ryuichi Tamura. Gee, life is cool.

[Emma Bolden · Rating 4 out of 5]

A mind-bending exploration of the possibilities and impossibilities inherent in language. The book builds, in a symphonic structure, from the concept of "da kine" to seek out the unspeakable.