by Lawrence Bridges
You’re playful but maybe you should focus
on last words. This light in your window
isn’t on a timer for Christmas. Outside lights,
Yes. Whoever lives in this house will see
its gingerbread lines and, in fact, might
sleep in your modest workroom, stripped of books
degrees, and mementos. This is a morbid street. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Dan Leach
Then came the summer
the ponds went dry
and everyone’s grass turned
the color of bone.
Streets became graveyards
and even the pool
with its pale green promise
yawned in the distance
like a forgotten church. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Melisa Cahnmann-Taylor
Write poems that peek at this mess
like dawn light from curtains of cloud,
or the red throated pouch poems
that perch on tree carcasses just
after a storm when begging sounds
are misunderstood as singing. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Ranjiet
I divide your city into two
pomegranate halves.
Jammed in bricked boxes
seeds bleed in pairs.
I am a crack in your thinking. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Wendi White
…and on the 8th day,
after Adam and Eve failed
that totally rigged test,
the people got busy
arguing.
Should they herd the ones with hooves
or begin to plant seeds?
Should they fill their stores with grain
or share it with strangers?
And what about the dates in the oasis?
Who owns those,
not to mention the water? Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Hawaii Pacific Review 