by Sean Eaton
(after Margaret Atwood’s “Habitation”)
We lie on the soft couch, our legs twining like freckled eels,
enmeshing in pearly needled grins of pelagic happiness.
We sip our wine and listen to the radio whinny, spurs jingling
in the pueblo twilight, light spilling from canteen windows. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Chris Ketchum
Payette National Forest Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Donald Illich
I am the body floating in the lake.
No one talks about me. I’m embarrassing. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
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
Hawaii Pacific Review 