by Richard Dinges, Jr.
Hills breathe gusts.
Great green lungs
fill with dust
piled under ashen
sky holding back
tears. A blue sadness
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Sated
Filed under Poetry
Mixed
by Laurel Nakanishi
I will not hide the hollow bodies of my prairie ancestors, those wrapped up in gun-smoke out where it is never really blue or cloudless. I have their muddied green eyes, their nose pinched against cold. My clothes bunched out as theirs, but I don’t double-knot my apron. I have none.
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Trout
by Melissa Slayton
Whether it was the cinnamon time, fall,
or spring, the time of the mayapples,
you could smell our bonfires from a hundred miles out at sea,
and the coast swam with clotted villages–
a thick mass–and the trees fell and fell
and the trout swam in this river big as dogs.
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Filed under Poetry
Barre
by S. Bennet
In ballet class on Wednesday
we wondered about Dame Groltz’ sin;
whether it involved her wide buttocks or
ropy-fingered hands…
When the confessional door clicked shut,
you could only hear breathing and see feet
underneath—poor clues. Continue reading
Ice Included
by Hillary Kobernick
When we got to Lake Michigan
I intended to jump in, ice included.
Or at least strip boots and wool socks
and dip my toes in.
This is how I imagined the new year
beginning, crawling like all evolutions
from the bottoms of water. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Hawaii Pacific Review 