by Janet E. Irvin
The hummingbirds have all but gone.
One last good feeding and they will chitter
goodbye, cock tiny heads, wing away. Continue reading
Tag Archives: Nature
Falling
Filed under Poetry
A Dream of Earth in Summer
by Jenn Dean
If April and May felt hesitant and pale like an egg, with June comes the hatching of summer. Summer looks like the earth’s Bacchanalian dreaming: bees cluster, drunk on the pendulous and phallic spears of flowers, orgiastic birds couple, beetles crawl and heave, and snakes unroll from the marsh grass like rolls of striped tape. The trees pump themselves so full of water their trunks swell and water shoots up the inner bark’s xylem with enough force that you can hear it with a stethoscope. This is the tipping point, the point of no return: summer can no longer be stuffed back into the bag it came in. Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction
The Sacrifice
by Alex Pickens
The cormorant glides,
oil slick shadow
on the flawless lake, Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Having Sent an Old Picture, He Asks if I Remember Koh Phangan
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
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
Hawaii Pacific Review 