by Asher Proctor-Jasper
The man in the truck next to me tore open the paper surrounding his double western bacon cheeseburger from Carl’s Jr. He flopped the barbecue sauce-drenched sandwich onto his bottom teeth, clenching down with his top teeth, and tearing it away with his dirty hand. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
by Nathaniel Calhoun
it took quite a bit more from me by the end of it
than I expected. but it didn’t take much to get underway. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Sacha Bissonnette
I heard the screeches and saw the tire marks every week. Many drivers failed to use the roundabout properly. I tried to tell them to do something about it—and I don’t even drive. I know it’s a problem because my balcony’s right there. That’s where I drink my green tea. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
by Jose Hernandez Diaz
I realize she is no longer a little girl. No longer will she read
Where the Sidewalk Ends. She will find new books, new authors, Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Reynard Laverna
The wave crests, a great sunbeam descends and cuts the water in two and the waves drift separately, before thudding against the breakers and launching a light mist over me. The sun finishes its descent and its final rays hold the mist upwards and spread a glittering across the horizon, then drop the chilled water across my body. The dark starts with this film of cold, settling onto my bare arms and seeping through my shirt. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
Hawaii Pacific Review 