by William Hawkins
Not much troubles the gargoyles of il Duomo di Milano. They feel neither rain nor wind nor the scratch of lichen. They jut into space blind and deaf. Though I have heard they do know the sun, as even light can enter stone. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
by Andy Gambell
Engine hums mesmerize like a Buddhist Om, and roads
unfurl themselves like mistakes or promises. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by J. T. Townley
Most of us can barely lift the axes, much less fling them at the target. Not only do we miss the bullseye, most of our throws clatter to the floor. Any blades that sink into the wood, even well outside those concentric circles, send us into conniptions of artificial joy and feigned delight.
Whose bright idea was this? Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
by Jessie Raymundo
This morning is shaded
with salt water. From the garden, Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Mandira Pattnaik
When you feel neglected, you should devour your husband instead of starving yourself, instead of wondering what ruins you haunt: says mother when I tell her about a slap, a chipped tooth, about brothers-in-law ogling, about mysterious cold beef and fermented rice beer in the husband’s bag, Continue reading
Hawaii Pacific Review 