by Steve Coughlin
He was the bedroom, the Black Sabbath poster thumbtacked to the wall. He was the unmade twin bed and dirty sheets my grieving mother refused to wash. He hovered outside the second-story window. My dead brother watching as I turned out his cracked lamp. Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction
by Mia Sara
My gangling pale
bedroom-eyed
boy child,
telling me lies
as I drive downhill.
“They need me,” he says.
Self-starved
distressed damsels,
the bloated buddy,
dumped again, Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Matt Mason
It’s time to just admit
I don’t speak the language.
I’ve traveled through relationships
like a man walking the Champs Elysees
wearing peach shorts and a Dallas Cowboys t-shirt
who, in each boutique, shouts:
“One. I. Want. One. Of these. Comprende?”
while seeming to pantomime the drama of fencepost digging. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Edythe Haendel Schwartz
Pahoehoe lava shelf. Blue skies.
Wind on our tongues, we speak of her,
brace ourselves to meet each jolt of memory–
how her fingers could pull octopi
from holes. Wind on our tongues, we speak
of heart, of ribs the surgeons pulled apart
the way her fingers would pull octopi
from holes. Surgeons tried to fix the fault Continue reading
by N.T. Arévalo
I.
The Toncontin International Airport, the actual landing strip, is one of the shortest (most dangerous) on the planet. The pilot descends quickly into a canyon, ducking a mountain, and when the plane hits the tarmac, it must do so at an exacting speed so it brakes before the cliff. That’s right: the cliff. There’s even a traffic light to pause motorists as the plane’s wheels dip a fistful of feet from the highway. Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction
Hawaii Pacific Review 