Hawai‘i Literature & Art
— Since 1978 —
It is here now for a minute, that finger-drawn face on the steamed glass is yours, ars brevis, fading as the warmth evaporates the room. What aging takes away, aging leaves behind, memory’s bits of steps taken and somethings said, a long and longing trail of warm crumbs turning to cold white brittle pieces, rimed…
What puts the kick in the chicken, the magic in June? Does anybody sing “Elmer’s Tune” these days? Why would they? What makes me think about it now? Oh my ma is out, and my pa is out, even Grandpa’s cigar is out, everyone’s out, so let’s stay in tonight. So what happens to all…
pinkish colored clouds hover above dark mountain shapes a sliver of moon hugs venus surrounded by electric blue slowly darkening into black just another fading sunset above the Waianae mountains the daily interplay of colors and shifting clouds similar but different expected yet unexpected ephemeral displays of nature’s awesomeness touching our souls filling our hearts…
Some people can smell Rain coming Not you, nor I But when you said I can hear colors in the rain I didn’t ask What colors? Only thought What a delightful turn of phrase Enviously accepting The strictures Of my lesser imagination Should I wonder How the sun might smell – Like fire, or…
Out on the open road again, Miss Chevy rides smoothly enough at the moderate speed I’m driving her, and I’m well aware that moderation could win the day, assuming the day can be won. I’m also aware that I seem to want to give a name to my vehicle, an indulgence I’ve always resisted on…
“Here you go, sweetheart, and plenty more where that came from.” Mardi curtsies as she hands me the chilled longneck. “And would the ‘here’ you reference mean here in Bryan as a place to seek ultimate solace, comfort, and wisdom or as a marker for where you stand in your life’s journey?” “Both. And more.”…
Mardi’s mom’s name is Rose. A long-standing family tradition has her dad selecting one yellow bloom from the bush he cultivates near the swimming pool and presenting it to her each morning. “A rose for my Rose,” he says. I don’t know what she replies, never having witnessed the ritual. Maybe it doesn’t happen every…
Lizard on moss rock Surveys his realm at the fore Aft, hungry mynah
Sauce done and judged beyond further improvement (That’s actually really good), she turned her attention to the spaghetti. Reaching for the carton, she notes her left index finger is bare. What happened to that Band-Aid? On both of the previous evenings, knife speed exceeded skill level, leaving perpendicular cuts across the center of that nail,…
“I don’t want to drink all your dad’s beer,” I tell Mardi. “Don’t worry about it. He stocked up for you.” “Appreciate it.” “Thought you would. My suggestion. Wanted to get you talking.” “Bet you’re sorry now.” “Au contraire. I’m on the edge of my seat. You’ve got the prayer to say before the first…