®

kilauea by Philip Scott Waikoloa viscous smoldering oozing through vents to depths no diver dares molten glowing heat so hot that touching no midas tries soldering joined together by melting stitching patches of cooled and cracked an island chain forming rock and iron and the greenest of life worn smooth by water and time viscous air thick with love and bound by aloha

There was a long lull in the, until now, consistent sets of waves. After scanning the horizon again, I noticed Brent paddling up around me. "What is it with people and rumors and tearing each other part," I asked Brent. "We're surfing man, lighten up." "There's nothing coming in right now." Brent sat up on his board and looked at the horizon. "You ever hear that quote by Eleanor Roosevelt?" "I don't think so." "It goes something like... high-minded people like to talk about m

At Play On The Reef by Philip Scott Waikoloa A south swell strums softly across the reef it’s summer in winter if only in brief the coral is tickled and surfing kids rise anticipating the rush and the thrill of a ride They stand on the tide the white curling mist with whistling spindrift a swirl and a hiss They giggle and wriggle and manage the glide become one with the ocean and feed their insides For a child it’s pure no hinderance of vision they feel everything at once and