by Jackie K. White
Facing it, you debate being told how light
the unbreathing body is,
when her blood, how heavy, her bone, are
gone now to stone.
On one side: her name, dates, a hopeful
verse. On the blank side: Continue reading
Stone
Filed under Poetry
Jumbie Beach
by Chip Livingston
Some an’ time jumbie dem do crash a party.
Some an’ time dem jumbie t’row dey own.
“What’s that even mean?” Kyle whispered.
I used my normal voice, noting how he tends to whisper in the dark. “According to the guidebook back at the eco-tent, jumbies are invisible spirits, tricksters, a type of duende or little people. This is one of the most secluded beaches on the island.”
“You think it’s safe at night?” Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
Banshees, Jesus, Hyenas, Sharks But No Wine
by Claire Scott
I ask him if he heard the banshees last night
baying at the moon, a sure sign of impending disaster
my husband is slicing radishes with a spoon
he looks up but says nothing Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Diner™
by Amber Baird
Sunshine yellow mustard caked all over my hands, America’s Favorite Brand or what the fuck ever, I grab the next bottle. Squirt out ketchup, America’s Favorite non-Newtonian fluid, in a spiral pattern on the wood-style laminate floor. Twist my hips to the soft rock anthem still blaring out of the diner’s sound system.
They announced it this morning, the death of capitalism.
Hawaii Pacific Review 