by Simon Anton Niño Diego Baena
As the fire spreads,
the only thing that is left on the pages
are scorched words.
Ritual
Filed under Poetry
Jackson
by Adam Matson
The first time you hang out with friends you haven’t seen in a while, you realize how weird they are. That’s how it was with Jerry and Reesie (rhymes with the peanut butter cup) Tolliver. I hadn’t seen them in almost ten years. This long hiatus in the friendship was nobody’s fault. Life drives people apart. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
People Watching Along Kalākaua Avenue
by Normie Salvador
Dropped off by my dad, I walk Kalākaua
Avenue, the liminal line keeping beach
from park. I am conspicuous in Waikīkī
Aquarium yellow shirt, slacks, and Skechers. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Willpow(d)er
by Hayley Notter
I found a sandwich bag of white powder in Will’s nightstand. Straddling him, sundress on the floor, I wasn’t reaching into his drawer for a condom (we would break up before I had the chance to offer up my virginity). I don’t remember what I was reaching for. Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction
An Instructional Guide to Saying Thank You
by Sophia Velasquez Martinez
Overripe mangoes
melt in wicker baskets
strays sip from sprinkler head pools Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Hawaii Pacific Review 