by Kathryn Merwin
You thought of Elke, nightclub lights
strobing through her skull (colors
I have never seen), the last night of her small
life. Said things like, before common era, processed Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Steve Meador
is ankle deep
in many spots
even when thin ice forms
fingers from the wrist of a bank
it is safe to walk
to the sandy center of the river
and stand
in the trickle and tink
When the wind dies
close your eyes
Listen up
Can you hear
horse hooves pawing in gravel
Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Karissa Knox Sorrell
Socks hanging on a line.
Metal tins with red labels:
Mutton cutlets. Irish stew.
Roast Veal. Roast Beef.
Three penguin skins
on hooks in the corner.
A navy vest on the floor.
A single gray glove against a bed.
Two pairs of boots on a food crate. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
By E. Kristin Anderson
Dear God, make me a bird. So I could fly far.
Far far away from here. –Jenny, Forrest Gump
I draw on these sounds for
some sense of reality—windows
are glass and I see my slack-jawed
reflection there.
I flick through albums, imagine
fingers on cardboard jackets,
lace gloves that must be removed
to handle these tomes.
What is a book if not a vehicle
for life? Americans lay in the street
and look for meaning in the clouds. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
By Chrys Tobey
When I was twenty, I should’ve slowed down, should’ve realized
I was having a midlife crisis, but instead I was busy running
from a bear and chasing deer. I should’ve scraped clearer words
in clearer caves for others to find. Maybe they’ll never find any of this.
Maybe you’ll never find any of this, and this shit show, this life
of mud and ice and wind is for nothing. My heart has been a pile Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Hawaii Pacific Review 