by Jeanine Walker
Two hunched, shadowed figures, two flat silhouettes, sway in front of the boats
that went out to drag fish in each morning, as we slept beneath mosquito netting, Continue reading
Tag Archives: Nature
Having Sent an Old Picture, He Asks if I Remember Koh Phangan
Filed under Poetry
At the Confluence of Latah Creek and the Spokane
by Damien Uriah
the present word sleeps
in a wet tennis shoe laid on a tarp
while the nameless bird sings from the south
as if resting in the sky
in another world the river woman sneaks up behind me
her footprints travelling as rocks Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Surge: A Task
by Eric Paul Shaffer
A dead fish means more, without me
telling you the finny stillness on ice
is uhu or aku or ahi. That’s good eating. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Signs of Spring
by Daniel Lusk
For some, it’s a robin.
For him, a spider in the sink.
A yellow birch down
across the lane, white slush
a hand’s breadth deep,
floating on the mud.
Filed under Poetry
Waiting for the Diagnosis
by AE Hines
Lying with the man I love,
I muse about a farm
high in the Colombian mountains,
where terraced slopes of coffee
meander valley to peak
and disappear into mist. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Hawaii Pacific Review 