by Paul Hostovsky
“Nobody calls it a barbershop anymore
except you, Dad,” says my son
when I tell him that’s where we’re going. Continue reading
Tag Archives: Sons
In the Bight
by Taylor Schaefer
The Skimmer slips from the pier at dawn.
Your father’s hand-me-down sweatshirt sleeves
fisted at your wrists to protect tender palms from the chill
of dip net. Follow the line just under the surface, remember Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Hawaii Pacific Review 