by Wren Tuatha
We turn to walk back to our blanket
and you mention dating profiles
that say love walking on the beach…
Continue reading
by Wren Tuatha
We turn to walk back to our blanket
and you mention dating profiles
that say love walking on the beach…
Continue reading
by Courtney Hitson
This sky unpeeled her eyelids’ opal interiors
and tossed you in the ocean—blotches of rainbow
bled onto your scales. Like flicking
shiny, pastel wishes into the sea. Diving, Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Arthur Ginsberg
To enter the world of the deep
is a return to the birthing pool–
a palette of colors evanescent
as cuttlefish, as you descend,
letting nitrogen seep into
your bloodstream, the crunch
of coral in the beaks of parrotfish
like a stone-grinder in your ears. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Julie Paul
In every wave, a multitude of yellow fish.
It’s November, 2017, and we’re in Kona, on the Big Island of Hawai’i. We watch the ocean from the wraparound lānai of Daylight Mind, a laidback cafe with good coffee and the wifi password “perfectview.” The ever-promised rain is falling, the first real rainfall in six days. A yellow-billed cardinal just visited for our muffin crumbs, and the scent from a foraged plumeria blossom beside my plate transports me back to high school. I wore frangipani essential oil on my wrists then, a strange coral pink elixir in a glass vial from the health food store. Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction
by Emily McIlroy
I climb into the ear
of the island–auricle of ash
rising above blue lung. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry