Nicole Miyashiro

To Feed on Heart

2011-05-09T19:11:00.003-04:00

Split the pomegranate. Peel
spongy chambers. Lick
spilled blood, and crunch
those sweet seeds without
crying about the mess.

Rescue

2010-04-13T16:17:00.001-04:00

In all of this buried space
buried, he searches the
mine for a sliver –his light, falling
on black
upon
black.

Pushcart Nomination

2009-12-03T15:39:00.006-05:00

Great news! The editor of A cappella Zoo, Colin Meldrum, and his staff nominated my short story, "When the World Ends," for a 2009 Pushcart Prize. Many thanks to all who have shared enthusiasm for the story.

Review on NewPages.com

2009-08-03T21:47:00.004-04:00

Anne Wolfe offers an encouraging review of A cappella Zoo Issue 2. On "When the World Ends," she says, "The twists in this ten-pager make it seem both shorter and longer - so much packed in so few pages that are consumed so quickly. ... (read more here)"

Six Word... Something

2009-06-18T12:06:00.007-04:00

A six word story challenge prompted these... stories, scenes, abbreviated cliff-notes? Whatever they are, I had fun and like that they depend on reader interpretation.

...

Alive! Glass chips glitter against road.

...

Smoke enclosed dreams—snapping his reality.

...

A lost sleepwalker disturbs the lake.

...

Insult to womb. An altered life.

Story in print! ...& now online

2009-06-01T23:05:00.000-04:00

"When the World Ends," is published in Issue 2 of A cappella Zoo and is now posted online in full and can still be ordered in hard copy for $7.

This Morning

2009-04-21T14:16:00.001-04:00

I woke beneath the surface. Pillows
and sheets tinted underwater blue, the wind
rippling trees with the sound of a shore,
everything rising
- a soft bubble shaded from sun, yet released
from the deep. I did not want ever to reach
the top.

Unsure

2009-02-23T23:19:00.006-05:00

Curled on a white cushion in
a white room where all
the walls are white and I’m
the only dab of color
breathing the bright (as if
it's meant for me) knowing
only that in a dark room I
could at least close
my eyes
& hide.

Hold Me

2009-02-23T23:19:00.003-05:00

Sleep, a touch away.
Blinking too much of the day
to rest in the palm.

When Rarely Heard

2009-02-02T11:01:00.000-05:00

a giggle swings
into a still day tipping
hard shadows into
a gushing light

Epiphany

2009-01-24T12:33:00.003-05:00

Depth in the shape
of a cross,
the icy black pool contrasting the snow
- dunk in for a cleansing
that can dress
the winter air
in warmth

re: msnbc's The Week In Pictures (Jan. 15-22) #7 - Thomas Peter / Reuters

A pause during struggle

2008-11-04T12:31:00.003-05:00

when his moaning
stops
snow whites-out the hour
ticking with ice

Lover

2008-10-21T22:52:00.001-04:00

Undressed

the tree will stand

bony and rooted

through winter

Against Worry

2008-07-16T15:45:00.002-04:00

Trees hunch,
hold their stomachs,
as air plows through
leaves - quivering flaps
of deep and
pale green

Farewell

2008-05-25T10:20:00.006-04:00

A brooding sky with
sun-patches tickling
occasional tears—laughter
skipping through
rain

photo by: Stephanie L. Malson

The hiding day

2008-05-20T10:11:00.003-04:00

the sky holds its breath---blue sinking to pale, a drop
of rain (just one) escaping, unseen, behind a washed-out building

At the intersection

2008-05-08T21:36:00.002-04:00

A sun-shower breaks
into shiny dents – a fluorescent vine of antifreeze
slipping through a puddle

On the radio

2008-04-11T16:17:00.001-04:00

Words clicking rocks
within a flowing froth.

Journal

2008-03-28T18:55:00.001-04:00

broken pieces sliding
through the palm
of retrospect

* reviews *

2008-03-28T17:53:00.004-04:00

I'm happy to have contributed to Philadelphia Poets again - this time in the form of a review that appears in volume 14 and explores the collection, Wild Mushrooms, by poet Joyce Meyers.

And on the topic of reviews . . . be sure to visit Ped and Andrew Talk the Arts for ops on everything from movies, miniseries, and theatre to comics and novels.

Enjoy!

Two Months Old

2008-03-21T11:40:00.001-04:00

You look, at times, like an old man in
the instant when your under-eye rings settle
after a cry – your dark hair parted like
a gentleman’s, and double-chin
serious beneath the weight
of rosy cheeks – as if you could flash
a lifetime in a glance.

First Days

2008-03-19T18:43:00.002-04:00

A kiss to soothe
your cry the taste
of salt

Doubt

2007-10-22T14:21:00.000-04:00

As you inhale
it doesn’t take
your breath away
but makes it unknown
and unmoving.
Each of your steps begins
to scatter visions
to dissolving dots
of a mirage, and you arrive
to the place you meant to leave
yet you are further
from where you had pictured
yourself before.

Driver Spills Coffee

2007-10-22T14:20:00.000-04:00

seagulls roost
on the side of a road

upright
eyes closed

a soft breeze
spills

rumbling
towards them

Siren

2007-10-22T14:15:00.000-04:00

The truck
was dressed like a nurse
and held strobe lights inside,
beating its windows with the sound
of a swallowed bug
the size of a compact car,
sour and wailing, the whine
repeated and repeated,
and the people
walked by, biked by, drove by,
continuing their days.

a bit more simple

2007-06-05T09:20:00.000-04:00

Check out Rebecca Maslen's interactive, collaborative piece at: www.rebeccamaslen.com, which includes a bit more simple.
Rebecca Maslen is a recent graduate of the M.F.A. in Creative Writing program at Rosemont College. Her prose-poem “rock me amadeus,” which was published by Flashquake, has been nominated for this year's Pushcart Prize. Her piece “Electric Chill” appears in Parlor Journal and is part of her interactive project.

The Sale

2007-05-21T11:49:00.000-04:00

pieces

in the store

shine, can blow

a sparkle of blood

fireworks.

gazing customers

pause.

the store-owner

watches,

deciding who

might illuminate

their night

with the click

of a price-tagged

trigger.

Ghost

2007-04-10T18:05:00.001-04:00

No one sees because it bleeds like vapor.

Reveals nothing dark in its wisps. Appears light, floating

like beauty. Then disappears. Appears. A different shape, the same

element: empty, fragile. Invisible. But real.

Present Time

2007-03-25T19:24:00.001-04:00

The present is
shedding

petals
of thought

turn past

ever-falling

(Eyes Closed) (wasting...)

2007-03-15T22:32:00.000-04:00

Caution: Low Tide

2007-03-09T19:35:00.000-05:00

Instead of curling
into a storm of foam
it slows,
folds into itself,
stretches
to a master sheet
of blue, lulling
the quizzical
shore, then
pulls back
—a wide-eyed tug
rising
to a wall—water
refusing to break.

Napili Bay, Maui.

The Berg

2007-02-17T17:33:00.000-05:00

it broke itself, a--part
in the sun, dissolved
to low rumbles,
easing into a 23-
story
drop,
smash—
ing
free.

City Grit

2007-02-12T09:56:00.000-05:00

lips taste salty
the day after snow.

roads are dry
but still white

with a grainy
film of ash.

a sandy tail
strikes the mouth

and the flavor
of the street
kisses

a slippery
tongue.

If Kept in a Jar

2007-02-10T12:27:00.001-05:00

Scratches lick an old jar
that once held olives. A dark eye
is open
but closed. Strings of chewed
parts float
where the neck split-ends, in glass
thicker than skin, bulkier
than feathers stuck
together. A parted beak,
black, crows
a body of wishes
soaked, in a jar
that’s missing
its lid.

[art by Todd Miyashiro]

Insomnia

2007-02-08T10:14:00.001-05:00

plastic sheets
beading
pinprick dreams
of screaming,
keen needles,
and no one
listening.

Eyes Closed 2

2007-02-07T07:47:00.000-05:00

Eyes Closed 1

2007-02-06T21:17:00.000-05:00

Our Chance

2006-12-11T13:46:00.000-05:00

The train stops and we can’t hear what is said about why because the voice in the speaker is scrambled, like it’s being chased in a dream. Out the window, scraps create an impossible collage, a rainbow caught in weeds. We wonder if we’ll ever get moving again, if we’re suppose to evacuate, right nowhere between stations—then the speakers click on. Answers crackle overhead as we imagine stepping through the debris of planks, cups, rough-looking vines, bright colors. The noise sneaks off and one of us pulls on a scarf. No one stands. We wait.

Going Under

2006-10-14T16:26:00.000-04:00

Stingrays glide - beneath
graceful wings: a needle - slips,
stings, sinks to deep sleep.

Crash & Burn

2006-10-14T14:56:00.000-04:00

After 3 years and multiple incarnations, Blazeink.com is no more. I had taken a long break from updating it while I worked on my thesis; when I returned, I was unable to update its contents.

The fix for this problem (an upgrade to the system that powered the site) was costly, both monetarily and maintenance-wise.
So it was time to say goodbye.

I want to thank all of you who continuously supported and encouraged Blaze ink, especially the following contributors whose work I was privileged to post:

Jan Armon, Bonita Barron, S.E. Brown, Farrawh Charles, Liz Corcoran, Julia Curcio, Pedram Daneshgar, Elizabeth Fernandez, Sheila Gee, Gina Gennari, Diane Goettel, Evan Goulet, Bill Green, Dan Hernandez-Trujillo, Leslie Healey, Mallory Hickey, Casey Krivy Hirsch, Dan Lisowski, Diane Long, Stephanie Malson, Tim Miyashiro, Todd Miyashiro, Anna Passyn, Jennifer Peck, Shawn Proctor, Jim Scheers, Peggy Suravage, Keith Tobin, Roger Van Baaren, Kandaswamy (Kandy) Vijayan, and Lori Zaspel.

I hope fans of Blaze ink will continue to support the cause as I invite you and new readers to visit me here from now on (or until something else crashes...)
Thanks & welcome!