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—
discovered sometimes
on the edges of my lawn— 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—
discovered sometimes
on the edges of my lawn— Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Angela Nishimoto
For AJM
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
by Paula Goldman
after Monet’s Impression, Sunrise (1873)
Each morning when the sun streams
into the bedroom from the lake,
I see Monet’s Impression, Sunrise.
How he did it in one sitting! No,
he was standing at a window
overlooking the harbor at Le Havre. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Jim Willis
Another local family pick-nick
at the old airport beach in Kona.
The uncle casts a round net
into the surf over a sandy shoal.
Someone taught him the mechanics of the throw–
the division of the folds, the drape, the posture.
He moves with the grace of ancestral gods
and spins the net like a web on the wind. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Lucas Carpenter
Tech experts found it interred in the paint,
a husk of the torso in light vegetation green,
evidence of the flying insect hazard
of plein air painting. There must be
more bug corpses buried in the corpus
of his work. He once complained
about picking flies from fresh creations. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry