by John Grey
Behind the mist,
beyond the window, the forest,
body murmurs, refutes the
sleepy council of its dreams,
waits to be peeled apart
by an engaging fingertip.
Morning–sun so light and equal to
whatever task I give it–
and I think of the man with everything. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
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 Rachel White
Bark shed, the redgum
stands near a stone—
makeshift grave.
Radio drones: hostages
in Gaza; we voted down
The Voice. Blade of knife
in avocado seed, its shape
exacts a hole in the flesh. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Eric Paul Shaffer
_____ If a moment under the sun happened only once,
that would be one, but as I lay in the sunlight reading,
a shadow flicked over the page beneath my eyes.
I looked into the light, and through the clouds soared
_____the ‘iwa, the glorious crook-winged glider of sea
and shore, veering waveward after a long, luxurious turn Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Connor Donovan
We don’t speak of it anymore: the hilltop
bonfires holding natural light, bottlenecking
the cans & burning them green. The cathedral
clock tower above us like a jaundiced eye.
Being passed an apple packed with burnt nubs
—sucking where everyone had already sucked. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Hawaii Pacific Review 