by Loren Moreno
What little I knew about my real father
was used to shame me.
Not-real Daddy would say, One of these
is not like the others. My sisters and I, shoulder-to-shoulder—
I’m this brown, dark thing against their milky Portuguese.
Their long black hair falling in waves. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Loren Moreno
It can last from a few seconds to a minute or two and is often associated with hypnogogic hallucinations, things you see when you’re trying to wake up.
—Dr. Priyanka Yadav
The doorway, rectangle cut in the peeling white wall,
opens to blackness, where the mind superimposes
shapes and figures emerging from nothing. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Hawaii Pacific Review 