Hawai‘i Literature & Art
— Since 1978 —
Pack the pickup. Traverse the twisty, two-lane road from Waimea Canyon. Watch the scenery shift. Feel the air transform. Arrive at our favorite spot… Set up under the cluster of ancient pines. Relax beneath branches that shaded generations of families, silent witness to legacies of love and tradition. Gaze into trails that lead to serene…
My copy of Jane Eyre’s missing. The library’s nearby. I find the book and make sure I won’t be grossed out by something inside by fanning through the pages. A very old bus pass falls out. A student of mine worked for TheBus as a graphic designer. The monthly passes she produced were famous. This one found…
Okay, let’s do exactly 100 words, or exactly 500 words, Jim Harstad’s favorite kind of challenge. You knew you’d done some editing, he said, when you pared your work down to a specific number of words. Here are the August prompts Jim Harstad Teachers Students Readers Writers Bullshit Truth Fact Fiction Fact that reads like…
The moon hangs in full promise on the last night of a strange year. The North Wind chills the air as it blows through town, making way for Sister South Wind’s breath of sea salt. Together, first one and then the other, they cleanse the land of restless unease. A clean slate is left for…
Because I’m the oldest, I often act like a smarty pants to my brother and younger cousins. Very reluctantly, I admit that sometimes my know-it-all attitude gets me into humble predicaments. This is one of them… “Sis, did you put on sunscreen?” “Yeah, why?” “Well, you’ve been in the sun for a while, and you looking…
One of my greatest pleasures in life is being an aunty. For me, it is more than a title. It is a calling. Some are built to be mothers. Me, child-free by choice, I was meant to be an aunty. My six-year-old niece Ana calls me Aunty Magic. That is what I strive to do as an Aunty. I am responsible…
Dear Kauai, I will always love you. I am sorry I was in such a rush to leave you. You gave me all the stars in the heavens. But I left the quiet, dark nights we shared for the bright lights of the big city. At the time, I felt trapped by you, suffocated by…
GROWTH OF THE SAMURAI AS A COMPUTER PROGRAMMER Dog . . . Dog . . . Wet a goal a dog Nanny, Nanny, so so Fauna toe be toe. When a cat a house to, be to go to on Caught a Caught a Hi a Maya Win or rot ol’ shin. No ni No…
If I thought that I might be a poet I would laze away days in reverie Fake till I make it, make like I know it Like an overplayed song, droning too long Deleting this or that for brevity I studied some English, like everyone Standard lessons of grammar and spelling But poeticism was never…
Mexican papaya, the kind available in stores where I live, no taste as good as the ones that grow in Dad’s back yard–silky soft sweetness, melt-in-your-mouth. So how come no get when I was there on one of my semi-annual visits? The trees produce year-round. Dad no grumble, just drags the corroded platform ladder to…