by Seth Jani
Invariably, these statues sing.
Wrought-up in the darkened landscape
By the combing wind
They sway in their emerald music
While overhead, the small muscles
Of the stars work the universe.
They are the old, gnarled fingers
From the earth’s deep clutches.
The towering alphabet from which the birds Continue reading
by Sheila Nickerson
Not every tortoise who waddles up your driveway
brings a message. But sometimes you wonder.
Here is Tortellini, from Terrace Place—
a block away and down the hill—
coming toward your door. It took her four days,
her people say, and she has done this before.
Quickly, we discuss the patterns on her back,
the meaning of her visit, our dreams and fears.
Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Ace Boggess
they’re making a movie about my childhood basement
Hollywood producers overcome by all the monsters there
fire-eyed slobbering winged-like-flies arising from everywhere
as with heroes fighting in their blanket capes
Filed under Poetry
by Midge Raymond
The vet tech’s name was Kristy, and she had a shrill, candied voice that grated on Monica’s nerves. Her husband, Louis, was the one who usually took the dog to the vet.
“Oh, poor baby,” Kristy crooned as she took the dog from Louis’s arms. “What happened to you?”
“She had a seizure,” Louis said. He started to follow them into the back, but another tech intercepted him.
“If you can just fill out these forms,” she said, “we can get started on treatment right away. What happened exactly?”
Filed under Fiction
Topolobampo, Mexico
Filed under Poetry
Hawaii Pacific Review 