by John Grey
Behind the mist,
beyond the window, the forest,
body murmurs, refutes the
sleepy council of its dreams,
waits to be peeled apart
by an engaging fingertip.
Morning–sun so light and equal to
whatever task I give it–
and I think of the man with everything. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by E Townsend
My father sends me a panoramic video of an electric pink dusk settling over snowblinked Pikes Peak, the yolk of the sinking sun blown out, viewfinder shaky and fogged with cigarette ashes. I know he’s trying to hold his balance, cane gripped in his left hand, Motorola weaving like an unsteady heartline in right. Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction
by Courtney Hitson
This sky unpeeled her eyelids’ opal interiors
and tossed you in the ocean—blotches of rainbow
bled onto your scales. Like flicking
shiny, pastel wishes into the sea. Diving, Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Rachel White
Bark shed, the redgum
stands near a stone—
makeshift grave.
Radio drones: hostages
in Gaza; we voted down
The Voice. Blade of knife
in avocado seed, its shape
exacts a hole in the flesh. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Fabiana Martínez
If men learn this, it will implant forgetfulness in their souls; they will cease to exercise memory because they rely on that which is written, calling things to remembrance no longer from within themselves, but by means of external marks. What you have discovered is a recipe not for memory, but for reminder.
Plato, Phaedrus, 274c-275 b, Reginald Hackforth, transl., 1952.
“You will have to sign page four and make three copies. One for us, one for you and… I’m confident they will require one at the funeral home, Sir,” the big blonde hospital administrator with one missing fake nail pronounced matter-of-factly. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
Hawaii Pacific Review 