Maile Pilau

by Stewart Manley

Some things hold, some let go.
Sunlight streams through the hapu‘u,
Warming the cool stillness.

A breeze of reminiscence,
Lasts only to stir forgotten embers,
A time of young dreams. Continue reading

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By Payton Cianfarano

Two-hundred-forty-seven hours ago you stopped talking. I should have known then that something was wrong, but this was the fourth time in one-hundred-sixty-eight hours that someone had warned me you were going to stop breathing. After the third time I stopped worrying. 

Two-hundred-forty-four hours ago I heard my mom crying, a sign that I should find my way to where she was and see what was going on. I found her wrapping herself around you so tightly that Im surprised what you had left of a body didnt break.

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Talking It Out

by Simon Mermelstein

(first line from Freud, via Emily Berry)

I became a therapist against my will 
and against my better judgement.
I found that asking leading questions
was better than making statements
and had similar effects. Do you know why this is?
How does it feel
when I ask you how you feel instead of inferring? Continue reading

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Bird on Bull

by Cameron Conaway

Well over half of the white bathrobe trailed across the red hotel hallway carpet, but 9-year-old Singkto flailed on, bouncing into walls as though he were a plastic bag blown by the wind. How he waited for the man whose arms were wrapped around him in the bathtub to fall asleep before he pinched his nose and slipped under the water to gently escape their weight, how he carefully waded through the warm water and willed it not to ripple, how he used the broom handle that pained him earlier to quietly unhook the robe from the door hanger, how he stepped out into the main room, opened the creaking door to freedom and looked back at his wet footprints—none of it mattered now. The heartbeat in his throat pulsed with the adrenaline of next, that monster of uncertainty made of equal parts terror and crisp mountain air. Continue reading


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by Rain Wright

Sister taps against headlights on the memories of the dead

horse killed by the car on the thread of a highway
at night while she dipped and rocked against dark tides
in the rain swift odor of the redwood built Hōnaunau
house with wounded light of shadow beneath
the mango and avocado hitting tin roof Continue reading

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