Tag Archives: Joseph Stanton

by Joseph Stanton

1. Prologue

Honeycreepers speciated,
theory has it,
from an irruption of rose finches
wind-driven to these islands
four-million years ago,
give or take a million years.

Continue reading →

by Joseph Stanton

Picked ginger, a glory of fragility, perfumes,
ever so briefly, a person or a room.

There are those who avoid the odor,
but for me it’s a sudden door—

discovered sometimes
on the edges of my lawn— Continue reading →

by Joseph Stanton

for Ali`i Chang

This bird, thatched to be unseen in grass,
scampers in Kula’s purpling rows of lavender,
searching for bugs and bits of seed.
It could be nothing more than an odd sparrow
sporting a flash of white at tail
for all we know or care, as we picnic in cool air,
steeped in last light and flowers. Continue reading →

by Joseph Stanton

Higher rhythms are for them an easy joy.
Because they are so wide of wing
(a seven pound bird has a seven foot wingspan)

they glide, lovely at top of sky
or just above the waves,
seeking squid for eating. Continue reading →

Winner of the 2015 James Vaughan Poetry Contest. The author will read the winning poems at the Ko`olau Writers Workshop on April 9th, 2016.

by Joseph Stanton

The pandanus,
the oldest of God plants—
sporting aerial roots
as evidence of transcendence— Continue reading →