by Phillip Barron
Come home tired walk in legs sore hungry
fold a sandwich and get one episode
deeper into the show I tell
no one I watch then scroll
and tap and read and when
I uncross one foot Continue reading
Roadkill
by Jean-Luke Swanepoel
When I was five and fretful, my uncle was the kindest man I knew. Until I watched him run over a dead raccoon on that road to the mall on the outskirts of town. During summer it was a road through a field of green stalks, but it was winter and the fields were barren. He swerved firmly to make contact with the pile of blood and bones which passed like a hiccup beneath the wheels.
Filed under Fiction
Labor Day
by Tom Laichas
No other creature
inks its skin
with song lyrics
or studies stars. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Floaters
by Karen Regen Tuero
Johnny helped me move out of our apartment, the one I’d found us two years and one month earlier. It was a decent-sized studio on Bleeker before it hits the Bowery, affordable only if shared, at nine hundred a month, if you can believe rents were ever that cheap. New bamboo floors, high ivory ceilings, potted snake plants in the lobby where an elevator conveyed noiselessly.
Filed under Fiction
Mildred and Giuseppe
by Daniel Thomas Moran
At the delicatessen on
Henry St. in The Heights,
he was the senior counterman
at only sixteen years of age.
The 8th grade diploma from
P.S. 32 over on Union made
him the family scholar at the
brownstone on Woodhull St.
Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Hawaii Pacific Review 