by Chrys Tobey
Made of paper and popsicle sticks. Made of sadness.
This part carries my past loves. This part has my childhood,
my shame. This part holds my loss. I am sailing it down
a stream of rainwater. I have painted it orange because someone
I once loved wore this color. I don’t know if you’ll ever find it.
Maybe you will, but you won’t want it. Maybe you’ll be too afraid. Continue reading
by Kathleen Peppard
What do you do when you receive
the emergency alert warning
BALLISTIC MISSILE THREAT
INBOUND TO HAWAII.
SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER.
THIS IS NOT A DRILL. Continue reading
by Joseph Stanton
Picked ginger, a glory of fragility, perfumes,
ever so briefly, a person or a room.
There are those who avoid the odor,
but for me it’s a sudden door—
on the edges of my lawn— Continue reading
by Angela Nishimoto
Blue butterfly with black, brown
And green marks. Carried by the breeze and
Her own limp exertions, she beats
Her wings dizzy without sugar-fuel for
Two days. Blown from continental beach
Out to the Pacific Ocean, she opens her wings, closes.
Swooped upon by the god-wind, she cannot resist.
She is lepidopteran, an animal, so she must eat. Continue reading