by David M. Alper
You were never the boy who fell. You were the boy who
jumped. Let them call it hubris— you call it hunger. Continue reading
by David M. Alper
You were never the boy who fell. You were the boy who
jumped. Let them call it hubris— you call it hunger. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by M. Anne Kala`i
I.
Mother didn’t teach me how to garden.
She taught me to pack up a house
after the water turned off,
then the lights. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Kalani Padilla
The cabbages will survive at 24 degrees fahrenheit
whether they tolerate or desire the frost
is their secret.
Filed under Poetry
by Amy Fleury
Into the circle of chairs at the coffee shop
or church basement the newly bereft,
bedraggled and numb, are hauled ashore
by those long ago wrecked, those who know
the ropes, handing out Styrofoam cups
to be bitten and clutched. The coffee
isn’t bad for such a sad, uncharted place.
Salt water inundates us, so we pass around
the tissue box like a conch shell. All loss
is ours, we who are stranded together,
each with our own stormy story to share.
What unlikely castaways we make—professor,
pipefitter, nurse, veteran, and even undertaker.
Filed under Poetry
by Joshua Coben
Each time you catch me
writing in bed and ask
if it’s another poem
about your beauty,
Filed under Poetry