by Tiffany Hsieh
The train draws to a halt in the tunnel. Next stop: who gives? Estimated time of arrival: how long does it take to clean up after a jumper? Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I think about the cleaner who scrubs the tracks. Do they do that? Scrub the tracks. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Kenton K. Yee
after Charles Simic
These things must have been invented
by a starving thinker:
how they resemble his long flamingo legs
as he straddles the library urinal.
Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Glen Armstrong
She held it behind her back, and the lights dimmed. The world wore orthopedic shoes. What was missing seduced; what was left sedated.
Filed under Poetry
by Jianqing Zheng
—Dorothea Lange’s Filipinos Cutting Lettuce, Salina, California, June 1935
While the burning sun
snaps its long fire whips
like a grim foreman
sitting astride a horse,
the farmhands bend
their bodies and cut
lettuce row after row. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Christine Kwon
I carry a wilting tulip
I pack a champagne glass
I try to trap the runt of the litter
I trace the green tendril growing from my chest
I am remembering my mother Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Hawaii Pacific Review 