by Donna Pucciani
A neighbor offers daisies
from her monstrous clump
that grabs light with fingers
full of sun, edging out
lesser neighbors. Continue reading
Digging Out the Daisies
Filed under Poetry
Metaxy
by Nathaniel Heely
“Hey,” he tells you. “Wake up. It’s time for group.”
You were dreaming about death though you don’t know just what death is. There’s yellowing spit on the pillow and you reek of Marlboro Reds. Every time you’ve been here they’ve always given you the same room. 109. It is an expected occurrence, your life is full of rhythm; a pendulum between poles. You postulate that they give you the same room because they want you to feel that you are meant to be here; that there is purpose and order even at your rock bottoms. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
High Time
by Janine Lehane
The hot wind fastens
on sunhats and shirt flaps
and grim, glowing cheeks.
Red bulldust blears our vision
and the veiled shapes
we label truth. Continue reading
Because We Know
by Reihana Robinson
Because we know you died here
You would think we would tread lightly
camouflage our gaiety our cups of tea
drink less, quit smoking
All ruptures must remain abstract Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
The Magnificent Bookner
by George August Meier
When it comes to pets, there are two types of people: those who love dogs, and those who prefer cats. I don’t think there’s any middle ground. I, for instance, am a dog lover, as was my 75-year-old next-door neighbor, Charlie. So when he asked me for a favor involving a dog named Bookner, I knew there was going to be a problem. Especially because my wife, Laura, preferred cats, or a third option, no pet at all. She always said cats are self-sufficient and dogs require a lot of work. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
Hawaii Pacific Review 