by Karissa Knox Sorrell
Socks hanging on a line.
Metal tins with red labels:
Mutton cutlets. Irish stew.
Roast Veal. Roast Beef.
Three penguin skins
on hooks in the corner.
A navy vest on the floor.
A single gray glove against a bed.
Two pairs of boots on a food crate. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Kate LaDew
She sees things. Little men in little top hats riding little horses with Abraham Lincoln beards. The little men and the little horses. She’s thought about telling someone but how can she with her brother the way he is: seeing dead babies and rat infested corpses and Jesus dissolving on a cross. It would be like making a joke about dead babies or corpses or Jesus. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
By Chrys Tobey
When I was twenty, I should’ve slowed down, should’ve realized
I was having a midlife crisis, but instead I was busy running
from a bear and chasing deer. I should’ve scraped clearer words
in clearer caves for others to find. Maybe they’ll never find any of this.
Maybe you’ll never find any of this, and this shit show, this life
of mud and ice and wind is for nothing. My heart has been a pile Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Sati Benes Chock
She kept the T.V.
At first Jane thought that it wouldn’t be right, even though, if pressed, she didn’t feel that it was exactly wrong, either. But still. He had a wife. This hadn’t stopped her from having dinner with him, after she’d tutored his children for ten dollars an hour at his immaculate 1950s-style ranch house. The only thing out of place was a crumpled handmade quilt on the leather couch in the den. “That’s where Daddy sleeps,” whispered his son, Nate, a shy eleven-year old with spiky red hair and thick black glasses. A thrill shot through Jane, even as she pretended nonchalance. His older sister, Amanda, peered around the corner and frowned. “What are you doing in there?” she asked. It was as if she knew Jane was snooping. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
Winner of the 2015 James Vaughan Poetry Contest. The author will read the winning poems at the Ko`olau Writers Workshop on April 9th, 2016.
by Joseph Stanton
The pandanus,
the oldest of God plants—
sporting aerial roots
as evidence of transcendence— Continue reading
Hawaii Pacific Review 