Hawai‘i Literature & Art
— Since 1978 —
25-word entry (written first): How many phases of yourself have you swallowed into darkness, consuming the light of creation reflected in luminous smiles? A growing goddess is always hungry. 100-word entry: How many phases of yourself have you swallowed into darkness, consuming the light of creation reflected in luminous smiles? Is your mutable…
100 words first My sister and I always had to do the dishes. One washed, the other dried. We switched every day, figured it would be less boring that way. And we always fought. The washer would hurry up so the dryer would fall behind. The dryer would complain that the dishes were not clean,…
PERAMBULATIONS (100 words first) In the very old days, Walking four miles From Belfair to Bear Creek After basketball practice Got me home Just in time for dinner. No mean feat For a seventh-grader, But, back then, Nobody thought much about it. Everist and Makela ran Most of the way, Ives at their heels. Me’n…
No Left Turns (First) 25 words I wanted to dance Tahitian in Waikiki. I was almost an exchange student in Argentina. I was fearless. My Mother wasn’t. Paths for other lifetimes. No Left Turns (Second) 100 words I always believed I was adopted Out of sync with my siblings and parents. In my senior…
(100 words first) English is my native language. In Madison, those dirty looks, the sing-song comments, sometimes it was as if I spoke another language, foreign, another tongue unknown to anyone. My Uber driver is from India, a UW student. After 35 years, I’ve returned to Madison. I recount my race-based interactions, and he says…
Again, friends, Jim Harstad has suggested this month’s writing contest rules. Here they are: First, write a piece that is either exactly 25 or exactly 100 words long. Then, if you wrote a 25-word piece, you must expand that to exactly 100 words, then publish both those pieces together on the contest site. If you…
Trapped air moans from the open mouth at the edge of a splash zone. Silver bars of a hospital bed. Smell of iodine. Kiss goodbye.
25-word entry (written first): She drew a line across her wrist. Cleaved her face in two. Delineated the left breast. Continued. Chinese here, she thought. Hawaiian here. Half everywhere. 100-word entry: What are you? they asked. She was night-blooming cereus against dark lava rock. ‘I’iwi feathers and the song of myna birds. She was water…
100 words poem – first 2019 Running mentally and physically I die I despise running We have cars now Why do we need to run It seems kind of pointless My body disintegrates Flat feet, twisted ankle Suffering, grunting, burning Blood blazing in my thighs In one word agonizing 2020 Pandemic mode – sitting…
(100 first) Sharing the world her laboring tongue the modern poet knows what she is capable of when others insult her usage of words reproach her senseless paragraphs impossible to articulate scrutinize her utter opacity of meaningful convention. Words that busily multiply fewer and fewer cues for clarity deliberately dislocating language to fit music shaping…