by Alessandra Simmons
“A beaver resembles a cucumber with a short stem, or a duck with the neck & head cut off, or a ball of yarn, flattened a little.” -Adriaen van der Donck, 1645
It is said the castor
is a kettle, a hatchet,
a loaf of bread.
Enchanted Christians
with fish-tasting tails,
I am your punishment
for knowing too much. Continue reading
by J.R. Solonche
I sit at my desk under the window
reading the poems of Su Tung-p’o.
You play Schumann at the piano.
Emily runs up & down the hall. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Yuan Changming
Among the seven colors
Of the paint, the painting
Gives rise to a swirl
Turning fast enough
To send you up to a little cloud
Like an eagle gliding through
The serenity of autumn sky Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Jonathan Louis Duckworth
Dense fog over the Norman coast.
Low sound of a ship’s horn,
like a husky man who groans
to keep himself from nodding off. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
(Oahu, Hawai`i, December 13, 1958)
by Alicia Potee
There were three mats, three boards, six boys—tangled red,
green, and royal blue stripes. Two bobbed in repose along the lap
of a sailless skiff, one stiff plank propped like an outstretched pair
of bleached balsa arms—its primitive cross signaling stop, go,
the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. The others pearled,
aimless beneath the December sun, at the mercy of broken
waves. One fell behind, resurfaced pale-faced between
Na Mokulua with a feeble cry, the frantic paddle Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Hawaii Pacific Review 