Here are all the short stories and poems published by Southern Pacific Review in its 6 years of publication. We no longer accept new submissions. This is also the landing page for Walker Rowe's Southern Pacific Review Editorial Services. Mr Rowe is a sole-proprietor who does freelance tech writing on big data analytics, cybersecurity, and cloud architecture.
For a Woman in Winter
Her black hair was the only emotion
I could not name
under a sky the dream of salt.
Light slowed to a trickle
where the only warmth was behind her eyes
like a prisoner who does not blame
her jailors. Then she laughed
and the sun remembered itself -
the father of lightning,
husband of the water alive in the fountain.
But laughter stops or
you pour from yourself too quickly.
She fell silent and the season changed back
to bare knives and windowspoor as the wood of their frames.
FREELANCE TECH WRITER AND PROGRAMMER: BIG DATA ANALYTICS, CYBERSECURITY I am an American freelance tech writer and programmer. I write tech blogs, white papers, tutorials, manuals, and SDK docs. I know Spark, Scala, Python, Java, and many machine learning algorithms. Think of me as an SME and programmer, but one who writes well.
byScott Derry The armchair sports fanatic has historically anticipated his young daughter’s birthdays with tremendous energy and enthusiasm. Regardless of their size, the parties held in her honour have included all of the customary fun associated with such events: a cake with the appropriate number of candles burning during its presentation in a darkened room, guests singing happy birthday to the too-excited-because-she’s-the-centre-of-attention birthday girl (which nobody begrudges at her tender age), an assortment of gifts of varying sizes, fun games like pass the parcel and musical statues, and all the laughter and noise of such an occasion.
When an important sporting fixture has coincided with his daughter’s birthday (or the day of her party, which, for reasons of convenience, have all previous years been held on a Saturday and which thus have rendered clashes with important sporting fixtures unavoidable), it hasn’t been inconvenient for the armchair sports fanatic to watch such…
byJames M. Fajarito They have called me names, seeing saviors
In optical illusions. They have thrown
Stones at me, dismissing the shower
Of petals as tall tales and manufactured
Lies. But I cannot betray the woman
Who has shown me compassion, giving
Me hope in this world devoid of charity.
She has even left me mementos of her
And her family printed in flower petals,
The shower of which I basked in while
She conversed with me. No, I’m not after
The official declaration of my experience
As a miracle. I’m no politician or
Businessman, so no interests will be
Served by that pronouncement. Official
Miracles provide a windfall, and this
Shrine is better left unspoiled by restless
Tourists who demand panacea from places
Where the woman presumably appeared.
The powers-that-be are too pragmatic
To bother with genuine miracles, unless
The same will fill up fast some deep pockets.
Or make gold appear, like manna in the desert.
Now, that is the miracle of infallibility. Amen.