Monthly Archives: September 2012

Below Rainier: Matt Hemmerich

I’ve been lost down Siamese
streets
the only one with hands
unbleached
the only one with Rainier’s teeth

I’ve been quiet as trickling roots
and the Puget Sound
distilling old apologies that linger
in the breeze
among the rain, they pulverize
concrete

I was locked in the market, waiting
for you
there was a reason to be in
the city, and
no way to leave

Matt Hemmerich is a writer/drummer/baker. He owes music for his interest in the symbiotic relationship between language and melody. You can harass him at matthemmerich.com.

September Manifesto: Jaimie Gusman

The disposal coughs up the banyan
leaf from last night’s dream.

In the kitchen we sliced our tree
into meaty pieces and used a grill pan.

There will be no more fishing
in the ponds behind the houses.

An apartment building grew
up from the sand and bones

where young couples will learn
to bake and saute their own yards.

This dream presses me, scratches
my throat all day as I pack it tightly, run

10 miles down Kailua Road to the end
where skeleton houses, structures with no breath

lean ever so slightly toward nothing, New Zealand.
The blood smiled through the sea

smiled through me, yet smiled.
I walked through her veneered horizons

back home, where the waves of Evan
and the evening passed on like one.

jaimieJaimie Gusman lives in Honolulu where she is a PhD candidate at the University of Hawaii, teaches creative writing and composition, and runs the M.I.A. Art & Literary Series (http://miahonolulu.com/) . Her work has been published nationally and internationally by Trout, Mascara Review, LOCUSPOINT, Capitalism Nature Socialism, Spork Press, Shampoo, Anderbo, DIAGRAM, and others. Her chapbook One Petal Row was published by Tinfish Press in 2011, and her other chapbook, The Anyjar, was published by Highway 101 Press in August 2012.

Infinitive, 2AM: Sarah Kate Moore

To fall.
            The sheer
summer nightgown
edged in lace
                           is how

you know you’re not
asleep. You have
no choice. Headlong.
            Were you

asleep, you would
be edged in bronze.
You would be flung.

            What’s wrong.
You turn. Some
body folds himself
in half,
            is gone.

Sarah Kathryn Moore is a graduate student at the University of Washington. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming most recently in Cutbank, The Seattle Review, and Poetry Northwest. When she’s not writing, she’s dancing or drinking tea, sometimes simultaneously.

Pacifica’s Call for Submissions!

Pacifica Literary Review is proud to announce that we are now accepting online submissions of prose, poetry, and black-and-white photography for our inaugural print issue.  We are a brand new, diverse and dynamic literary arts magazine, headquartered in Seattle, WA. It is from America’s capital of clouds and coffee that we seek to publish the very best that the written word and photography has to offer.  All themes and styles are encouraged for our Winter issue (for the theme of the Summer issue, please refer to our website).  For full submission guidelines and a run-down of our crew, please visit us at http://pacificareview.com/.  At this time we are only accepting online submissions through Submittable, a link to which can be found on our homepage.