by Jocelyn Sears
I’ll leave the lions
to you, the elephants with their tusks white
and chiseled as pieces of soap. Let me
be a swallow. Continue reading
by Jocelyn Sears
I’ll leave the lions
to you, the elephants with their tusks white
and chiseled as pieces of soap. Let me
be a swallow. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Elizabeth J. Colen and Carol Guess
If trees could talk, you said. If they could tell us what they saw.
But if you didn’t want to talk about it, why would a tree?
We walked in the arboretum as if nothing had happened. Past Japanese Maples, Witch Hazels, Legumes. Through Pinetum and across the stone footbridge. The math of it, was what you said. Continue reading
by Lucille Lang Day
For Bill
Old man, gaunt, with scraggly gray hair
and cancer of the spine, greeting me
from your deathbed, what binds us now is
the past—the night when you were seventeen
and I was drunk and you pulled me away
from the boys who would abuse me. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Josh Rathkamp
I’m watching TV, something about fashion
housewives curb appeal pawn shops kids
drinking and fighting until I realize
even if it’s not a rerun, I’ve seen it before
numerous times, a whole
Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Jim Willis
A green gecko edged in blue
rests like an “S” on the blue plywood
of the boarded up lei stand at Kealakekua. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry