by Eric Paul Shaffer
xxxxx I hear the rain stop, and from the eaves begins
the erratic whisper that sparks the leaves below, drop
xxxxx by drop. Dogs released into the yards bark
at the fences, and children play in the street, splashing Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Anna Scarpone
There’s a room alive with the heat of bodies, and a booming bass its ever-pulsing heart. Limbs press against limbs, flushed skin is illuminated only by the opening and closing of the bathroom door. Now and then, some shrieking, drunken laugh rings out over the crowd like a descant. In this darkness, I’m no more than a body. No sun casts a shadow on my face, revealing its familiar imperfections. Hidden is the bump on my nose, the freckle on my upper lip. The telltale inflections in my voice become another part of that universal chorus, the beat blasting from the DJ stand. In this ocean of bodies, we are all grasping desperately for anything, anyone to ground us. Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction
by Dorian Kotsiopoulos
If you trip over it on the way back to bed from the bathroom,
don’t plan on falling back to sleep. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by August Straumanis
This morning I was woken up by a marching band. The parade was in town—horns crashed through the treetops, majorettes passed out smiles like electrocutions to the crowd. A biker gang rode by with a caged tiger in tow, a small mirror lodged in its jaw. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Daniel Donaghy
Winding through the aisles
with my oversized cart,
I smile at everyone:
the pink-haired stock clerk
bobbing to a song streaming
through her AirPods; Continue reading
Hawaii Pacific Review 