by M.G. Martin
I telling
All the tings you going see
Waking under hala trees
Last night’s ants finshing
Up an ʻōpala feast
The Kīpahulu sea beyond the ʻaʻā
One conflation of liquid blue cotton
Candy and da sparkle kine Colgate
From small kid time Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Gregory Pōmaikaʻi Gushiken
Māmā inhales Sunday
A Benson & Hedges Luxury Pack
Her chest, the billowing Pacific
Each breath an ocean river
Filling the soft space
Left by fleeting fathers
With tender carcinogens and tar
Sealing sandy sores Continue reading
by Howard Sage
Through June and half
July, static apple
green outside my window
caught my morning eyes.
Then (I don’t know how) pink began
to tinge and turn the
sour green. I should
have smiled as pink looked
through the leaves at me, Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Natalie Homer
Have the skeleton ships succumbed
to barnacles & rust, the salt wash of the sea?
And the little A-frame named “It’ll Do”—
is it still there, safe in the hemlock?
Mild-mannered Pacific,
I wanted so badly for you to be home. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Dorsey Craft
We sit together on the bed of a white pickup that draws
an empty trailer along an island road, just come from dropping
the boat in the water, from catching small rays and throwing
them back. Your toes drag gravel, rest on aluminum,
curl in the air like fish. When water bugs are snatched
from below, it seems they were never there. This is what
Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Hawaii Pacific Review 