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North Hunterdon High School1445 Route 31 SouthAnnandale, NJ 08801

Artwork Credits:Front Cover: Sam EddinsThis Page: Morgan WolvenBack Cover: Laura Bartram

Table of Contents... Writing

Portrait of a Lover, Alexis Richards 8Tennis Shoes, Becca Bradshaw 8Pinwheels and Tigers, Mason Lamborn 9Disapproving Air, Makenzie Holmsborg 10Summer I Was Seventeen, Nicole Clark 10Memory From a Dream, Becca Bradshaw 11Road Kill, Scott Vander Veen 12Dreams Over the Pipeline, Tommy Iannelli 13Communist Haiku, Alex Baro 13A Night's Tale, Stephen Jaeger 15Dusty Pale Paths, Makenzie Holmsborg 15Rhythm of All, Gen Walter 16The Mechanical Pencil, Kyle Hart 17Forbidden Love, Anonymous 17The Cold Journey, Ryan Pearson 19Silent Soul, Jenn Borowski 20Range Life, Laura Bartram 20Bliss, Serena Mueller 23Captured, Alexis Richards 24Where I'm From, Zoe Papay 25Baby, Alex Baro 26Water, Anya Ford 28We Drive Through a Town, Jonas Serra 31Memoirs, Brooke Mastrogiacomo 31The Ocean in Wintertime, Isabelle Aspin 32Homage to My Eyes, Veronica Stefanchik 34Rain and Heartbeats, Mason Lamborn 34A Man I Know, Alex Baro 37Lesson One, Mary Grace Mangano 38Communist Haiku, Laura Bartram 38Red Tents and Rusty Trailers, Makenzie Holmsborg 40Inspired by “Purity”, Alexis Richards 41Lutece, Laura Bartram 41Assyrian Pool, Mary Grace Mangano 42What Up, Alex Baro 43Tears, Oily Tears, Tommy Ianelli 47Bones Without Marrow, Mason Lamborn 47Recipe for Embarrassment, Veronica Stefanchik 49The Front Door, Nichole Clark 49Bloody Good Fun, Brooke Mastrogiacomo 50Feesh, Isabelle Aspin 50Lost Bird, William Zhang 51Braid, Jordan Siebert 52In the Gallery of Ordinary, Isabelle Novoa 55My Knees, Laura Bartram 55Light Passing Through, Mary Grace Mangano 57Muscles and Demigods, Isabelle Novoa 59Discarding Sadness, Alexis Richards 61Symphony de l'Eau, Makenzie Holmsborg 62Communist Haiku, Laura Bartram 62Metropolis Garden, Michelle Mess 632010, Laura Bartram 64Story of a Still Life, Alexis Richards 64Communist Haiku, Laura Bartram 64

Salad Surprise, Ryan Pearson 65

Eliza, Becca Bradshaw Globalization, Laura Bartram Water Poem, Michelle Mess To a Love Never Meant to Be, William Eyebrowess, Laura Bartram Four, William Zhang Water Poem, Kyle Hunt Anglo Saxon Riddles

Bryan Exawa, Madeleine DesmariMueller, Julianna Jarvis

Paz to Greatness, Laura Bartram I Just Woke Up, Isabelle Aspin I'm a Bit Bitter, Isabelle Aspin Cayman Earring, Sam Falucci Haiku, Laura Bartram Secret, Kirby Gallagher Curiosity, Devyn Aguilar The Sun, Samantha Nehlsen

...Artwork

Ladder, Cecily Smith Vines, Alessandra Young Hands, Sam Falucci Flowers, Laura Bartram Mannequin, Carson Cordaro Falls, Chris Murillo Ink Experimental, Alexis Richards Legsy, Laura Bartram Glass and Brick, Ally Brosnan Double Pellicule, Sam Fallucci Royalty, Ally Brosnan Pizza Boxes, Sam Falucci Jailhouse Shadows, Judy Peatman Necklace, Tina Keslowe Unibrow Kids, Tina Keslowe Dressing the Tree, Chris Murillo Me as My Gradmother, Alexis Richards Curlicue, Judy Peatman Secret, Laura Bartram Flower, Sam Eddins Star, Morgan Wolven Flower, Lucy Bertocci Gate, Taylor Mathues Chair, Sam Eddins Bricks, Nicole Clark Raph, Tina Keslowe Street, Lauren Meuer Solitude, Isabelle Novoa Deez Angels, Sebastian Leslie Tree, Nicole Clark Lips of Love, Tina Keslowe Hand on Knee, Alessandra Young Graffiti, Sam Eddins Brick, Taylor Mathues City of Torpor, Ally Brosnan Gemini, Laura Bartram Door, Nicole Clark

6 7

Advisor’s Note

Editors’ Note

LadderCecily Smith

Oh how I wish there were more win with the kittens and nature! Anothertalented submissions: some humorous, sodisplaying the hard work and skill of mEvery Thursday (and sometimes Monday anFriday) I am surroundedby an extremely creativeand talented group ofpeople who not only makethe magazine fun andinteresting with theirwit and enthusiasm, butcontribute their ownpieces to be enjoyed andcritiqued.

We continue tobe bribed to work withlollipops and pizza andwe continue to tormenteach other with ourindecisiveness. This magazine is built liquid sorrow and perspiration and dietliquids. These liquids house the many gber of poems. We are heathens, nay, biwho pluck the eyes from our prey like souls.To say the least, We work hard. Athis magazine. We are climbing up a laas businessmen, and we are reaching towmagazine. We push our right foot out asay hey hey. This magazine is life.

My editors are brilliant, enthuswitty, inspired, incisive, dedicated, ocreative, energetic, madcap, laudable, have resorted to using the Thesaurus— of first-rate adjectives would fail to qualities of these gifted and devoted eelse would work long hours, sustained opizza, and a passionate love of languagall of the artistically endowed studentgraphs, poetry and stories to be enjoyeNorth Hunterdon and beyond. Thank you Mr.Calabrese who passed along so much opages. Thank you to Ms. Ryan who censoall the readers who will climb the laddto your umbrellas as gusts of imaginatiing. From the top, you will see beyondother worlds, other lives, other minds.

9

Pinwheels and TigersMason Lamborn

Red ten-speed bikes whizzing dI see their imitation pinwheelThey haven't yet hatched eggs Or found spider webs beneath tBut everyone takes first stepsAnd build magnificent towers owith omnidirectional lettersAnd spell out instructions to rabbitsLiving only in their mindsCrafting adventures for them

VinesAlessandra Young

Portrait of a LoverAlexis Richards

Your neck,All weighted down with gold,Like a reminder;An anchor of keepsakesUsed,Not to demonstrate wealth,But to convey its absence.Chains and pendantsShouting a love of God,But religion is foreign,And therefore,Unmentioned.It is not ignoranceThat makes him forsake his religion.It is guilt.Shame,for God sees all.

Oh, how you wish he was blind.

8

Tennis ShoesBecca Bradshaw

Made to be walked on. What kind of purpose is this?Like the weight of the Earth.Thrust upon my concaving back,even you: small, toddler feet.

Once white. Unspotted. Sturdy.Green abuse now covers my sides,

dirt clings to my face,mud licks my tongue.

Trying to resist,I stay stiff as long as possible.

But you, heavy feet-you eventually manage to break me in.

Time after time...

Step after step.

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Memory From a DreamBecca Bradshaw

Pink lips breathe in crisp airA blink, lasts a moment in timCity of pines, sweet and fragrBelow, a river glides along th

Content on a fallen pineits life leaving small stainson the ivory snowflakespatterned on my sundress

Shining eyes,a smile,a kiss hidden in the corners.Cheeks blush atop high structu

Curls fall over a worn sweatshblue, like the sweet water.Head resting on a strong shoul

No need to rush.Linger, and rememberthis memoryfrom a sweet dream.

And I'll find myself there,someday.

Disapproving AirMakenzie Holmsborg

Thick grey smokefilled with lies and immortality

Hot heavy airsinking deep within me

Long summer nights Stars watching the windows

Yellow lightThe house stirs with discontent

Bright summer breezelifting dust from the stale cobble street

connecting our heartsI pass the dark shadows

Molasses soulsticky with deception and betrayal

Thick grey smoke veilssweet corruption

The lonely sunrests against the earth's chest

Dark shadows welcomemy quick feet

Summer I Was SeventeenNicole Clark

When I was seventeenI would beat the sun to the beach.

McMuffins and Red Bullfilled my stomach.

It was too early for trafficbut I was wide awake.

We would claim our spots on the empty beach. The sea gulls were the only soundechoing down the empty boardwalk.

We stayed all dayThe people would come

Their children kicking sand onto our blanketThey would leave but we would stay.

The first ones on last ones offWe left with the sun.

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Dreams Over the PipelineTommy Iannelli

Strolling out to the hurdling he submerges under the alreadynow degraded to powerful thundAt only 18, taking risks is pobut he is wise enough to see t

While not playing around,he lifeguards, searching the wcareful not to miss a struggliEveryone has someone to go homwho cares and loves them.His home which was once stronghas cracked and rusted.Leaving him trapped under the as his parents build two new h

Hoping to extinguish the ever urehis voice may be the water.American Idol may spot him liklost at sea.Standing on top of the singingfeeling better than surfing a Leaving his past on the deserthood, he casts sail on a journey withimso he may never look back.

Road KillScott Vander Veen

I beheld you, reposingupon the edge of the road

let me take a briefrespite, you pleaded. Thick flocks

of flies, inky, buzzing black crows,swarming to form a halo

atop your crest of bone.Velour expanse

of crushed, collapsedthroat. Rough tongue speckledwith swollen buds, protruding

like an outstretched limb.Crystalline lucid orbs fixate.

Flecks of your scarlet lifeare splattered

over your glistening, mattedfur, leaking down your crown of antlers

which were not sufficient protection.And the flies drone on, enticed

by you, carrion.

Flowers Laura Bartram

Hot

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A Night's TaleStephen Jaeger

The bitter buzz of the fanAs I rest in my bedThe night consumes melike a dark wavesmothering the beachRestlessly I layThe warm breeze of dreamsSlowly penetrates my skinMy cool pillowMy warm sheets,Nicely nestled in a nicheI near sleepCrickets chirpingOutside the windowThe soft moon peeks in.

Birch trees towering over Angel cake moss swHeavy heat pullin

Vengeful sun p

Blea

Lonely GroundDeep beneath heavy grey s

SocIn the cove

Distur

MannequinCarson Cordaro

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The Mechanical PencilKyle Hart

My coal black hearts paint piFlipped around like a gymnastBy dirty stranger's handsMy long neck strangled by fin

My heart is smaller each dayAs it slowly wears away,Until gentle fingers redeem,My heart to its former glory

A single arm on which to clinA single head on which to do An ability to erase mistakes,Used much to often makes me w

I soil fingers blackAnd taint marble-white sheetsWith streaks of lonesome grayLike the coal mines do to cle

I am a priest's staffA tool of creation and a signI am also the devil's tridentReady to send havoc out onto

Could you ever maybe sort Or maybe you're the girl withUnder current circumstances

really I hate the way this i

Tonight I'll be up late wnobody makes me wait up t

everytime we talk I get thisYou're so wonderful you

Rhythm of AllGen Walter

Rhythm of all

The ox grazes in the field,

The reeds bend in the creek.

The tortoise moves oh so slowly,

The stream flowing freely.

The frost nips at my nose,

The venom spread too quickly.

My mother hugs me very tightly,

The scalpel glistens in the light.

FallsChris Murillo

1918

The Cold JourneyRyan Pearson

Snow falls in a total white out,Dusk fades into night,A man trudges home holding axe over The snow is nearly waist deep.

Dusk fades into night,Pulling the sleigh behind him, it geThe snow is waist deep,Still he is a mile from home.

Pulling the sleigh behind him, it geThe snow begins to gather on the wooStill he is a mile from home,Tired and weary he takes a break.

The snow begins to gather on the wooHe looks up and sees the snow flakesTired and weary he takes a break,His beard is covered with a layer of

He looks up and sees the snow flakesA deep cough rumbles from his lungs,His beard is covered with a layer ofHe wipes his mouth and starts trekki

A deep cough rumbles from his lungs,His house comes into view.He wipes his mouth, and starts trekkLooking behind all he can see is dar

His house comes into view,The smell of warm stew and burning wLooking behind all he can see is darThe cold begins to creep on him.

The smell of warm stew and burning wAll he can think of is the warmth ofThe cold begins to creep on him.A dim glow radiates from the windows

All he can think of is the warmth ofThe man trudges home holding his axeA dim glow radiates from the windowsSnows falls in a total white out.

Ink ExperimentalAlexis Richards

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Silent SoulJenn Borowski

Hello silent follower.I heard your swirling songs dance from the mighty pines,whispering of mystery. Why speak in such hushed tones?I've been following your trailing voice,devoted to your presence.Can I not join in your fluttering performance?I too long to be free. Moist air clings to my cheek as you silently exhale.Your breath cleanses the Earth until it is free of impu-rities.With hands outstretched,I hope to feel your grasp.Your chilled fingers shroud my figure and we become one.with this comforting bond,I trust you.I confide in you the contents of my being.Only I know your hauntingly beautiful ways.My secrets are safe within your icy soul.Our secrets shared shall not leave the shaddows,forever frozen in time.

Range LifeLaura Bartram

The board with wheels beneath his feetwill melt. He will slide down walls and

bannisters, stomp on the landing.Slower than reality, like a stop-motion

transcription of the beeps & clips &wails he likes to listen to.

Friction shall be none, his batteries will not fade,his face like stone while slipping up

a wall, she swoops her hair to one side the moon high on her forehead

a daisy grows from one corner of her mouth,sheds its petals into his hair

where their seeds will germinate,latch into his follicles,

take holdthe roots rest in grey matter and twist around.

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BlissSerena Mueller

If you could bottle bliss.side in the middle of July on a it's raining. Actually no. Not ring. A pair of ratty old shorts would do just fine; no one's watDefinitely no shoes... You'd jusRun until you reach the empty ststreet light flickers, casting athe desolate road. It's past 10;ing teens and their gaudy obnoxitems dare disturb the pure euphothe rain is everything now. It iit is smell, it is touch, it is controls you. Possesses you. Andthat trustily fickle lamp, everyyet inviting sheen on the quiet Just stare into the heavens, letsweetness on your thirsty skin. like a dehydrated dog, slurp, slgrants your parched body more. Msmile. And... and then you walk but slowly, nostalgically, as ifhad actually been an apocalyptic

And now Rain's control ovethe vice grip slackened just enoyour senses. This soundtrack of lessly through your ears, lodginbetween your ears and in the bacdiaphanous silk scarf threaded lears.

You playfully thump the sodelightful tap/thump/splish noisdainty feet, a sound that harmoneffervescent sprinkle of the peameting toward awaiting Mother Ealoused feet embrace the black taas the best Swiss milk chocolatefirm as your dear parents. And ofragrance could be as refreshingone brisk wiff, the musk of the enveloped in the clean twinkle oand droplets. And as your naked you just slowly savor this bite

Glass and BrickAlly Brosnan

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Where I'm FromZoe Papay

Where I'm from,Machines dug up my back yard,Destroying the place where I palm to the 'over-sized rats with hoove

Where mi padre and I rolled bouldCreating a man named Frosty,A place where I'd swing as high aWith my Nana behind me pushing.

But that magical kingdom was tranocean,A pool that was demanded by my moWho was always tanning under the

I'm from the back of a galloping Who never once let me fall those ground,Mainly because I'd fill up my jeaorange treats.

I'm from the house that should've Stuffed with millions of animals, The fridge in that zoo was coverepieces,And the place where cars should hTurned into a sports lover’s dreamFootballs, baseballs, soccer ballsspilling out every time we opened But sadly now that house is only

Where I'm from my parents rarely My mother's were decked out in maage,While my dad's, which I inheritedthin glass frame.

When the tree branch holding them I decided to grow along the side Who I'm almost a small female copFor I share his love of sports, hlife,He'd always tell me to do my bestdo better."

I am from a place that was once sUntil a tidal wave came and knockBut I landed on my feet,And I'm still walking towards the

or last, slice of filet mignon covered in a creamybutter sauce, or a spoonful of a decadent triplechocolate cake, smothered oh so slightly in a vanillacaramel creme. This delicious bliss, this addictingbliss, this pure bliss.

well, it is just that.

CapturedAlexis Richards

Burning holes in my chestHis gaze is like a tumulusAcid -filled sieve.An hour glass open at one endTo be poured slowlyOnto unwilling skin.It is a body in the freezerMaking organs into blocks of ice,But warm, So warm.Like the arousal of a dreamAll filled with daisies and hopeUntil spiders come crawlingAnd shooting webs of silk Into your eyes.Dressed in blackHe glides into your dreamsLike a ghost or vampire or zombieOr some such mythical beastThat mortals fall in love with.A woman's heart is so pliable;It is no supriseThat he has captured manyAnd kept them hostage,Like a room full of dovesWith clipped wingsAnd lonely eyes.His heartA hawk who preys On the unsuspecting doves.Nails gone and wings clipped,How can they run away?

But her mother isn't the

27

BabyAlex Baro

It's late in September. The girls still weartheir summer dresses and the boys still wear theirshorts but it's one of those days with the breeze thatisn't just cool but ominous and all the naked shins andthighs shiver with gooseflesh. The girls will put theirdresses away in a week or so but the boys will go onwearing their shorts until their socks start fillingwith snow, and even then they'll wait a week beforethey put them away for good.

The weather brings the girl into her bedroom. Sheenters in a series of very small, very calculated, verybrisk footsteps that look very efficient but are actual-ly significantly more exhausting than her usual gait.She circles the room purposefully, disturbing the vari-ous piles of lace and satin and silk and cotton withher big toe and taking note of which ones turn intosweaters and which ones do not. She stops at a blackv-neck affair and pulls it over her birdcage ribcage andthe white bodice of her white dress. Thus satisfiedshe sits on the edge of her bed. Shoulders back. Backstraight. For a moment she looks very much like achina doll, with hair the color of dandelions and skinthe color of lilies and cheeks flushed with flares ofpoinsettia and eyes wide and green and ripe like apples,lined too heavily and a bit foolishly in black. Herface always carries a look of slight shock or embarrass-ment or both, as though her personal space is constantlyimpinged upon by an invisible but tenacious suitor. Hername is Eve and today she failed her driving test.

A ways down the hallway her brother, only tenyears old, is singing in the shower. He is singing thetuneless wordless half song that everyone hums whenthey're alone. With a streak of uncharacteristic cruel-ty she calls to him and tells him to cut it out. Hedoes not hear and does not do so but she doesn’t callagain. Eve takes a handful of bedspread in each fistand groans a frustrated and whiny and juvenile groanthat makes her hate herself. Then she groans again inshame for her previous groan but she still feels child-ish so she stops groaning and sits very straight, think-ing that she must look very composed.

'Use your words,' she hears her mother saying.'Count to ten, baby.'

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her words and she does not couisn't a baby, even though she test and had to pull over on hshe was crying like one. She is her birthday and she is eigstill can't go to the grocery anywhere else by herself. Andonce that she doesn't even wanlicense, but instead wants somaround the world in a wagon, b

Like a child. Like a silIt is cold now and she g

dow, thinking that soon the suders will fade and she will locheeks and her skin will turn fall and then winter. She goebut in her girlish clumsiness ashtray on her bedside table. time to empty it that morning off with potpourri, but now alwhite lace lap and ruining her

"Oh," says Eve, staring the mistake through power of wher ruined dress and then the and how it isn't smooth anymorscratches and bruises and grayscratches and bruises that sheting. Her legs are like this her body and she is only just with her tongue feeling hot anher mouth she thinks in effecting, that someday her whole bowith these marks and she won'tthat way.

Her brother, only ten yein the shower all of a sudden would start again but he does eyes to block out the ash on hher legs she draws her knees usits like that. Like a baby. girl.

2928

WaterAnya Ford

In the upper shower of the house tower,While waiting for the water to warm up a little,I'm feeling, as I lean my head towards the ceiling,Like a silk sash smoothly flowing down me, soothingme,But I hear the rain drops around me pounding on thethirsty ground,Like small cannon balls falling out of the cloudy grayskies, Crashing and splashing as they shatter all over theshower's bare floor,Fearing that they will get near me, With excruciating pounding and ringing in my ears,I glide the sliding glass door open,And run away from the battlefield of explosions.Suddenly I hear the shattering falling pieces meltinto sad soft tears,As I turn the wet glistening handle to off.

Double PelliculeSam Falcucci

30 31

We Drive Through a TownJonas Serra

We drive through a townThe bad side of townLike a nightmare, sin is lurkingSirens tingling my skin.

We pull up to a red lightThat seems to illuminate this blThere is a tap, tap, on the windA little boy laughs, weapon in h

I roll down the windowGlance at him, and tell him he Tell him I can take him awayFrom this place.

Everything stops.Like a pendulum his mindset swinThe whole ride home he doesn't s

I sit in the t

whilthrough the

I bury myself It's my only protec

Like a sm

FroThe wound

Pizza BoxesSam Falcucci

3332

The Ocean in WintertimeIsabelle Aspin

A heartbeat in the sand where the feather lays,the shell's arched back like a mountain range, val-ley, peaka cold borderand a skylinepolkadots meshing and pulling themselvesfrom a home where the bird nests in a the crook of a waveand into the backgroundan inanimate identity crisis of minor importancebut to the chalice full of nothingbut to the vacant rants of the desertand the cartoonish fruit of the treethat sheds itself in a mirror image of its shadow andshadows of animalswithout representation except a contrasting outlineand eyes painted on by some god in the form of aseven year oldwith no opinion on the oceanor feathers tickling armpitsor oystersunless the pearl looks like a pig

Jailhouse ShadowsJudy Peatman

3534

Homage to My EyesVeronica Stefanchik

These eyes are wide, As big as the shining sun.They move with such ease,Like a swan,sometimes they are intimidatingAlways seeming to push away.

These eyes are always warm, loving, kind. Always accepting and never rejecting,for they do not judge but only welcome.

These eyes are how I see,the world around me,unconnected and lost,Like a snail in a tortoise shell,Sees life,So cold and shallow.

These eyes see the truth from the lies,the genuine from the unreal,they see the imperfections as a way to be unique.

These eyes are precious,for they are my eyes,and alone they are mine,to hold.

Rain and HeartbeatsMason Lamborn

When I hear rainlike heartbeats

Rasping like old lungsFalling like beads of sweat

Then I will run from my houseAnd bask in the millions of jewels,

Falling from the sky

3736

A Man I KnowAlex Baro

there's a man i knowfrom 55 Cancriwhere July paints its sleepy calon sweating bushes and stretchinwhere i sip lemonade and jasmineand a man i know burns himself in those early hours of the morn

i got lost in 55 Cancrithat morning i rememberi smoothed honey into my hairand smeared my eyelids with Jezei had hoped to be HelenThaïs at leasti know it though,i'm not Salome but a schoolgirlless femme fatal than fatalist flost in those silvering hoursof 55 Cancri

there's a man i knowfrom 55 Cancrihe doesn't sleep but sleepwalksI think, to paint his name on mywhile i spend my visions on Cyprand stranger still,on coffee and Cheerioswith this man i knowfrom 55 Cancri

i got lost in 55 Cancriwhere July shades its apocryphain charcoal and pathologiesnumerologies and biologiesand bald patch phrenologyand men that burn themselves in where the schoolgirl writes in lthe name of the manfrom 55 Cancrilovers when fought are fighters in 55 Cancri

Dressing the TreeChris Murillo

Me as My GrandmotherAlexis Richards

3938

Lesson OneMary Grace Mangano

The ultimate femme fatalesips coffee from a porcelain cupon Saturday in sunshineLanguid choices laid like clothcrisp and cunning design.She knows herself and sensuous mind.A broken heart, oncecleaved by words and lipsstraziare, cardiac stenosisA woman of breasts and hipsthat tell a talenot unlike her frayedand favoriteBarnes and Noble Classic versionof Pride and PrejudiceFierce love and independence, undone andunwon.With pencil marksand underliningcomunicazione e amiciziaacross decades and doorstepsbecause Elizabeth Bennetis a better friendthan those tormentorswho sip Heinekenfrom Solo cups.

Communist HaikuLaura Bartram

Rasputin, you fox.I think I could poison you,

the way they couldn't.

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Inspired by "Purity"Alexis Richards

I wish I couldgently tear bits of my body aPiece by piece,ankles and thighs and elbowslaid out on a velvet bedspreain a closed roomwith curtains drawn.I become shywhen I am exposed,when I lack flesh,and a comforting layer of fatBut this stripping away, this exposure is necessary;it will make the pain cease.When I regain confidence,I will gather the pieces of mfrom the comforterand will stitch them back togI will use thick black threadand a needle meant for denimand will knead the doughof my flesh and bones,and piece them together.I will be whole,and I will return to my comforter of velvet,and lie there. The texture of the velvetlike skin against mine, I will remove my clothes,and enjoy it.

Red Tents and Rusty TrailersMakenzie Holmsborg

The hot pale ground burned my legsThe sharp peddles hammered at my soul

The elephant whined in the distanceThe child whined like the elephant

The flies murmured in my earTaunting the failures whispering the decision

The boy stared at his feetHis beloved hat sank over his gray eyes

The heat rays flew from the dirtWith screams of escape and success

When the days were long and my hair was shortThe red tents held fantasies and intrigue for a boy

I held my mother’s handLeading me to the wooden bench

Like a lion leads the childWith wide eyes and sticky fingers

My dreams skipped in my mind like the dancers on thestage

The gymnasts swung, the trapeze artist balancedI observed each move and carved it into my mind

As if the clowns riding by would snatch them away

Sitting in the dust, my eyes on my son

I squinted into the sun

The

Today,hourglass hu

Musky polltablelike a jau

What UpAlex Baro

So there was this girl aboy who probably had a crush othat he liked her yoga pants bher last message yet and she wmaybe the flames of passion wehad been two minutes. She jusup’. Had she been too forwardomitted punctuation to stress al, but maybe texting him firsitself. There was the possibibut she thought it unlikely. promised her undying love, andin September she didn’t have a

The girl was sitting on straightening her hair with muher strands sizzling into subming effect as the melancholy slin. She waited. It had almoher anxiety, she knocked the hand swore creatively for severcould go to hell and her yoga or whatever and her fourth perit was all her stupid fault foNick Marshall where she could his hair glow like a halo undeing. And her ears, they couldalways got in the way.

Distraught, she considercontinued to ignore her she wofor a waiting period of four dthat she really didn’t care liwith his idiot cellphone and ilike, busy with stuff and wasnuntil he decided to care aboutbecause he probably only likedanyway but he wasn’t the only pants and she knew that Mike finto her because he borrowed aso she would start lending himed, and pens too, and then NicMarshall would realize what itwonder why she wasn’t lending more and he would realize thatand he would take her to see t

4342

Assyrian PoolMary Grace Mangano

Shadow me over the surfacelong and whisperylike smoky steam

the breath of cappuccinos.Blurry now because

the dragonfly disturbed itwith his chrome wings.

I wish I had wings.Toes grip the edge, flex and point

arms ascending, bendingsending their message skyward.

Like one solitary triangleindicating heaven

shadow me on the waterthick condensed air with

sunscreen and lemonsthe coil in my feet springing

ready for liftoffbody like an arrow.

But waitthe moment in the air

humidity in my hairI see me

shadow me across the waveschanging now

in this new spacean inch from underneath

Rush rush rushover my head

I am transformedmy heart has spreadto swallow my soul

that water of silky dreamsI am a mermaid here

a siren in this sphereof cool and quiet and strange

where shadow me lies abovewinking through the glass

down at mea sea dove

Halloween to Diwali to the cladivorce. On the one hand, shecompatible with an Aries, but hottest. If it turned out thacould never work.

Twenty minutes. Somethier couldn’t cook worth anythinand sprayed some Febreeze. Shshirt. “Mom, turn the air conShe coughed.

“Honey?”“Mom! I don't smoke!”“…are you sure?”“Oh my God, yes!” She ro

emphasis. She was sweating a She sat in deep thought,

burst through her chest like acage. Was he a Virgo? Could sweating so much? Was she havstress of his cruel rejection menopause prematurely? Was he even a true Leo? Would it be less than the very fiber of hethis boy’s Scorpio sensibilitifact, the sensibilities that hhe was a Virgo? Could she reaway the last page of the Septein its ultimate wisdom, prophemother attempting to make porkoverheating and shortness of bor of heartbreak? Could it behad to be, or was there a flukthat caused him to be so utterbreathing and blood-streaming himself to vomit a reply to suWould her own true love reallySeptember fifteenth, would thea cuter boy to have passionatebetween classes? Surely it wawould be destined to spend theor maybe even the rest of her embittered. Would she die withspending her last moments recamany years ago a boy in her masweetly on her yoga pants?

Or would she die by way currently gorging themselves o

4544

movie at the Pohatcong movie theater. She went overher plan several times until she noticed her flat ironslowly eating into her sheets and also that she wascrying.

She decided to call for help.Danger Jill, as she was called, was a high school

student of indeterminate grade level, aged anywherebetween fifteen and thirty five. She carried a genuinevinyl book bag. Danger Jill knew pretty much everythingthere was to know about stuff, but no one knew much ofanything about Danger Jill. There was a rumor that shehad been engaged once, or pre-engaged twice at least.

The girl dialed the number and waited, brushingcharred cotton fibers off her bed. Danger Jill alwaysanswered on the third ring.

“What up,” said Danger Jill.“I’m texting this boy and I think he likes me

because he said he liked my yoga pants but he hasn’ttexted me back yet so I don’t know what to do,” saidthe girl.

“What’s his zodiac sign?”“He’s a Scorpio. I mean I think he is.” “And you’re a Leo?” Danger Jill coughed. Her

heavy breathing indicated that she was thinking in greatdepth. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s good maybe.”

“Oh,” said the girl.“Well, listen, I’m driving Marty to the court-

house. Call me later.”“Okay.” She wondered briefly who Marty was.

Danger Jill had a handful of friends whose court dateswere always interrupting their phone calls.

“Yeah.” Danger Jill hung up.Five minutes.“Honey, are you smoking in your room?” the girl’s

mother called from downstairs.“No, mom.”She chewed her nails.Seven minutes.

This had gone too far.“Honey?”“Yeah, mom.”“Please don’t smoke in your bedroom.”“I'm not, mom.”Was he a Scorpio? How could she be sure? Her

only clue was the vague memory of his mother bringingcupcakes to school at the cusp of winter, but elementaryschool cupcakes could be celebrating anything from

Tears, Oily TearsTommy Ianelli

Dripping downLike rain off a windowTo crash helplessly to the grouand then absorbed.Smeared black by mascaraThe octopus's ink draws attentiaway from your sapphire blue ir

So helplessI stand near,your name I can't even recall.I sense your heart slowingas it's about to fall apart,crushed by somethingmysterious to me,but so very real to you.

The stream will soon be dammedby a calming friend,and will flowonward with youin my thoughts.

My

That has rMy restrained eye looking

BreaMy gums expand and allow my

47

number of throw pillows?She shrieked and leapt from her bed less like a

gazelle and more like an injured goat. The fire alarmechoed through the house like church bells.

“Honey I know you’re smoking in there!”She took a step back, but as she lowered her foot

she was challenged by her hairdryer, which she hadthoughtlessly cast on the floor earlier. Of course, shehad not anticipated that her flat iron, which had alwaysbeen a friend to her, would create a boiling inferno ofher bedroom.

She lost her balance and buckled. In her futileattempt to catch her balance, her cellphone flew fromher fingers, and landed conveniently in the exact bulls-eye where the flames had eaten their way to her mat-tress.

She choked.This was heartbreak.And as the buttons that had so often penned her

deepest thoughts began to melt, she swore that she sawthe words ‘What up’ appear briefly on the screen beforeit combusted.

Ten minutes.

46

Secret Laura Bartram

Recipe for EmbarrassmenVeronica Stefanchik

Crawling out of a little hoBeginning a whole new chaptThrown in the shark tank,A little tiny goldfish.

I climb steep mountains,Trying to keep my balance,While the weight of the worIs on my shoulders,I keep a steady pace,Until hands are pushed towaPapers go flying,Feet become unhooked,Tumbling back, doing a 360The world is scattered acroThe dusty floor as feet scuLike ants in a pack,I crawl on my hands and knTrying to collect all I canThrashing it here and there

It suddenly becomes silent,Picking up the world againRushing to make it,For the Lion is waiting.

I will lock yo

You punch my side aMy hinges scream

LI don't let you in a

Hitting me and

I keep you dryI am

4948

FlowerSam Eddins

5150

Lost BirdWilliam Zhang

Seek the world, lost bird, foTake heart in the trees, see Find your own, so you may fin

Attack the sun, forever shiniIcarus, fly high, courage nevSeek the world, lost bird for

Dodge those merciless waves, Lurking deep, gliding smooth,Find your own so you may fina

Duck under Gaia's shawl, straThrough Hade's Tartarus, but Seek the world, lost bird, fo

Weave into the steel jungles,Scamper left, crawl right; noFind your own so you may fina

Alone, spiraling, yearning foBut no one joins your lonely Seek the world, lost bird, foFind your own so you may fina

Bloody Good FunBrooke Mastrogiacomo

Screams and laughter echoedthroughout the backyard

Jumping, splashing, screaming, singingThen came the dare.

Mustering all my courage, I plunged deepInto the unknown.

Up swung my legs only to be blocked By the gleaming dagger

Of broken glass in the bushes.

The paintwisted and contorted

My face.The shock

swept all feeling awayAll that was left

Was the bloodFlowing from the gaping,

Red abyssThat was now my foot.

FeeshIsabelle Aspin

There is no such thing as pure white,we learned this the only way you can.

It's just sandy caulk,turning glowing by a flick of light,

That's where the cat sleepsThat's where the goldfish burbles out

His novel, dictating to hisreflection.

Young birds smack their headsDarkly oozing from their puny

Bird nostrils.They can sing out a nasally note at

Which the windows vibrateAnd his gills flap and shiver along with them

To the click click click ofHis brain to his Microsoft Word

DocumentHe can see his bowl quite clearly

And he won't be making that mistake again.

53

Time moves on I feel memories tiedWalking past them I can see my oldAnd to make progress I must go in Still there making the way clear f

Walking past them I can see my oldI brandish a ring a sign of a bonStill there making the way clear fBu the ring makes other approach m

I brandish a ring a sign of a bonThe one my thoughts have been chasBut the ring makes other approach Why does she run from me when I w

The one my thoughts have been chasRunning after her, whilst she fleePassing barriers that once would sBut then her knight comes and flieagain.

Passing barriers that once would sUntil the knights comes to save heAnd so I must continue to find outAnd finally defeat him.

Until the knight comes to save herI make a move practice time and tAnd finally defeat him.At last I have my princess.

I make a move practice time and tBegging me to leave her alone, unfAt last I have my princess.Angered at my insistence she turnsand explodes.

Begging me to leave her alone, unfAnd sit down and think about what Angered at my insistence she turnsand explodesLost I look up and see nothing com

Braid(The introspective journey of a man named Tim)Jordan Seibert

Lost I look up and see nothing complete in the sky.Confused I walk back home and flick on the lights.And sit down and think about what was done.And read a book.

Confused I walk back home and flick on the lights.Slowly collected pieces and placing events.And read a book.I try to look at what was done and what will be.

Slowly collected pieces and placing events.I pause and stop time and dwell on the moment of thepast.I try to look at what was done and what will be.Repeating events until they are perfect.

I pause and stop time and dwell on the moment of thepast.Time moves on I feel memories tied to places.Repeating events until they are perfect.And to make progress I must go in the right direction.

52

FlowerLucy Bertocci

5554

In the Gallery of OrdinarIsabelle Novoa

is me and me and meup for display allneat and packed away next toa smooth white sign with glosscorners perfectly describingthis fine specimen of

Or-di-na-ry-

but as i squintand read the bright bleach sigshocked to discoverthat though her eyes are quitemine its wrong wrong wrong and

too talltoo paletoo elbows & knees

and her chin is too pointy tobe anything like me, so i spinout the door andknow i'm in the Gallery of Ordnomore.

These knobby one is freckled, th

Scarred & stuffed withe

into pliés, twithe caps wobb

pulled off, and ex

GateTaylor Mathues

5756

Light Passing ThroughMary Grace Mangano

Strike one, strike twonot out, but instay here a little longerif you can bear.Mumbling, bumbling thoughwithout detectionlike a solid mystery.But I'm right here, you know.I'm not hidingjust glidingbythese halls, these wallseach day.I sit, I peer, I hearsame movementsendless talk. In and outof mind and timesame old tepid walk.I'm not a novel,I'm a danceso stop judging this coverand sway with me.

ChairSam Eddins

Muscles and DemigodsIsabelle Novoa

"I have the most excelleI stared at the idiot th

way to the register, all six fof him. Golden curls crowned hhis arrogant olive eyes starined cashier. His enormous arms shirt sleeves and made the cotdex. His fingers were unnaturaespecially one of his shockingtapped the black counter erratneary inaudible rhythm to the my throat, but Abercrombie's pthe sound.

"Most excellent," he repdesk. I cleared my throat agaimy fist. All in all, the coughas the store's potent cologne was fogging my brain. I clearefoot, catching the cashier's dknife-like glare. He squirmed

"Right, you're kind of isaid. "I'm in the middle of a

I smiled triumphantly ana navy t-shirt with white letthulk of a man who still stood mean, his trunk-like arm was rshoulder, completely violatingpersonal space was clearly notwith.

"But you simply must heasaid, leaning so close to the noses were nearly touching.

The pale, stick of a teeregister shrunk back. "Uh..."

"Look," I said, poking hforefinger. "You have to get oand wait your turn."

He seemed to notice me fmy cutting gaze. I remembered then. The top of my head barelshoulders, but I ignored that his emerald eyes instead.

If he hadn't just cut mefound his sun-bronzed skin and

5958

RaphTina Keslowe

61

but his blank gaze was like a family of crickets in anawkward silence. Clearly he'd recieved one too many con-cussions from high school football. Or two. Or four.

"Perhaps you can help me," he said and pointed tothe wall across from the front doors, where a largeposter depicted shirtless boys in low cut jeans insmooth shades of gray. "I was born to save the Earthfrom those hideous creatures. I must pose for thisstore."

I nearly went slack-jawed, but resisted theimpulse and stared instead. "Excuse me?"

He grabbed the bottom left corner of his t-shirtwith his right hand and literally ripped it off, throw-ing the shreds to the floor. Every eye in the storefollowed him and he stepped before the poster and flexedhis muscles.

"Like this," he said, striking a pose. "Or this."Another pose.

Not a single voice whispered through the screamingtechno. For a long beat, I couldn't tear my eyes offthe shirtless mound of muscle intently making a fool ofhimself in front of everyone until I finally turned backto the cashier. "Just ring me up."

60

Discarding SadnessAlexis Richards

If I could pull you up through my esophagous,past my tonsils and molarsand uvula and gums,I would set you on a plate.A great serving dishthat has been windexedand shined so you canbat eyelashes at your reflection.I would leave you there in abandonment,neglectfor my own forsaken childin a dumpster of mirror and cleanI would resist the urge to wallow with youuntil the platter drowns us both with the depth of our tears,and I would leave.An extended vacationuntil I forgetthe curve of your hipsand the shape of your face.The way you cling to me,your mother,and lace your small fingersthrough the muscles of my back.I might use pliers to get you outI would have to,you see,for this parasitic love,this unconditional wantwear upon me,as you thrust deeperand deeper into the hollows of my bones.

StreetLauren Meuer

Metropolis GardenMichelle Mess

I want a garden as big as a ciAs if held with skyscrapers of

Capturing light let a seed ofLife plant itself in its rich

And hummingbirdsSuck the nectar from my vast l

I will hear the beat of their soft buzzing from neighbor bee

in through alleys of orchidsSmell the air let it

entertain your nostrils questithe presence of weeds for

They do not exist death cantell how hard life was to main

in such a vivacious bedlet nothing that possesses beayou must

let it blossom for people to w

6362

Symphony de l'EauMakenzie Holmsborg

The copper pipes tink with discomfort.The emptiness echoes around the bends and corners.Something is going to happen.

The familiar rush fills the vacant channel, Gushing seamlessly to its escape.

The waterfall hits the cool sink basin with a gentleslosh.It gurgles and whirls,Fighting to the drain.

Miniscule droplets fly and flee to freedomThey holler in triumph with dynamic hoots and howls

The water sings its song loudlyA melody of rushes and hushesThe occasional clash of cymbals and rattles of maracas

The deep gulping drum takes the stage The symphony continues

With the last clap of the tambourine,And simple strum of the acoustic guitarThe elaborate song ends

The small silver triangle is hit,ting, ting, ting.

Communist HaikuLaura Bartram

Comrades, brothers, dudes --your burlap clothes cover the

laborers i love

Salad SurpriseRyan Pearson

I'm at Bread World and aso pumped for this salad. I'veday. So I decide to come here comes over to me.

"Hi, how are you doing?"" Well, and yourself?" I"Good, is there somethin"Yes, I will have a wate

and a water please.""Water and caesar salad,"Thank you."With a smile the waitres

order on her pad. A few minutemy water and some bread. I trybread as I can because I don'tsalad gets here.

After about ten minutes ly arrives. As soon as it touceat. But when I get about six these little black things runnfreak out. I pick one up to lothey are little bugs.

I start gagging and throstart throwing up from the sigdisgusted with what I have justhat still has part of the bugvomit and head straight for thtries to stop me, but I push t

I kick the kitchen door salad chef and throw my plate charges at me. Being a wrestlebut we get into a tussle. Fistblood starts pouring out of cu

People try to separate ufive minutes the two of us go try to pull me off my punch thus to duke it out. Finally theup. The two of us look so groscuts on our faces with blood dover us.

I walk out of Bread Worlby the cops. I want to press cknow that if I do they'll presRight now I don't want to have

6564

2010Laura Bartram

Ten years ago tonight,I was six & asleep.You were five & asleep.Two kids awash in a disarrayof 2000 eyeglasses.Ten years and we have grown up,And out. Out, to our big ears,or big that premeditated this tonight-My eyes, looking at you listen to mewith big ears and bigger eyes.

Story of a Still LifeAlexis Richards

Clicking clocks with faces turned awaylike so many mothers

and fathersand sad little husbands.

These fools you look up to, then down at

as you realize sympathy has left you, with the last of their love.

Instead of a rope, a shoelace,

covered with tiny dinosuarsthat the boy who keeps you up at night

suggests will rule the world. He tricks you with his honesty,

like truth can never matchthe depth of his lies.

His hand and forearms are the gifts he gives,tokens of his truth,

reminders of his lies.Then the pain sears

as hands and armsare tourniquets

around your slender neck.

Communist HaikuLaura Bartram

My red-yellow soulthinks, what's your national bird?Vlad Lenin with wings.

67

That day was such a bad day. My salad I was look-ing forward to eat turned into a giant mess. About twoweeks later I drive past that same Bread World and Isee it is closed due to unhealthy cooking conditions.All I think about are those bugs in my salad. I stillhaven't been able to go eat at a restaurant because Iam scared over those bugs in my food. So from now onwhenever I want a salad or any other food I make itmyself.

ElizaBecca Bradshaw

Brown shoes beat down the high prairie grass,laying down a new path, for you.

Tight smiles and weary eyes,fear of the coming snow

and blustering winds of the journey.

But while our feet drag, our bonnets shade us from the heat of the sun

and somethingsomething is echoing

carry on.

Across monsters of mountains, rivers wait like cold serpents

taking under those who don't have the faiththat keeps me going,

for you.

Among the burdens on our shoulders,between the gun shots,

we danceduring the nights

The hope of Zion, pushes our carts

when we feel like our poor feetcan not take another step.

Together, we journey for thousands,and I carry on, for you.

66

GlobalizationLaura Bartram

The gold buttons migrate, likeI'm the opposite pole for precfor pink newsprint...The pool deepens. Pens, lipbalthe pepto slush, wishing they'happy to write all day. Not onor all noneor happy to just slick up agaithem.Oh, I will wish for this same sleepy scrappersmashing steel water bottles ibuzz from the radiationof exploding pen barrels. Thermy big red bag, MIA-Pows stillsmashed.Sublimely, supinely it all ultme, a sliver of paper, the botBut from far off we're all rouwe eat our own tails.Flat on my back I arch around like a slice of jet around a pStay sleepy, stay moony.Like a tentacle encircling a bStay inky, stay ruddy.

The sun's beauty is burDroplets d

TeThe thick ai

As I toss rocks in a puddl

TheCarrying stray twig

The water trickl

Creat

Soft spEcho

While outstretche

69

To a Love Never Meant to BeWilliam Zhang

I walk along my lonely street,till suddenly I see

another path crossing, where I meeta wanderer like.

Together we rundown the endless

lanes that softly humwith ghostly bliss,

when we come upon another turn,crossing the Styx. I fly, and fall.

cruel Phrygian gates, my soul to spurn,enclosed my heart with an iron wall.

We stopped; our eyes caught;she went; I tried to follow

but found that my routewas barred by some strange sorrow:

For she was not the first to've beenon my yellow stained road to nowhere;

She was the one I hadn't seen,because she and I were never there.

EyebrowessLaura Bartram

Hey eyebrows, don't feel so cocky.Have you seen mine?

To a face reader, we'd seem the same.Glasses, topped off with caterpillars.

I knew you liked what I likedbuds, kitten, cairns

the uniting power of nouns, of- cheekbones, eyelashes, plural beautifuls

I only loved you because you seemed like the type toleave your wallet in El Segundo.

68

FourWilliam Zhang

Upon the clouds, you fly aboveto distant lands away from me.Unveiled, your face; no one willA single death from lack of love

Two birds in flight, their song for you to hear; for me to makeagainst your ears, to softly wakNow twice, I die, my fate too cl

Another day, another woe.Through seas of sand, I seek youUnknown that it is in plain sighThe third is lost in ebb and flo

A chime, a roar, the eagle diveswise eyes gaze true, made plain Your heart, my mind, beats in coOh four, the last, so sweet arri

Water PoemKyle Hunt

Warm water trickling down my bacWashing away my anxietiesThe sounds seem to take over my Soft pitter-patterHitting the marble floor

The droplets of water are like dRaining from the skyAs I am enveloped in their glistHot steam stumbles over the stepIt seems to fill the room like a

The steam enters the room like aAll wearing capes of whiteA civil war breaking outAs the pools of steam clash weapescape.

71

Bryan Ezawa

As do the storm clouds quiver In anticipation or shuddersWith fiery fury; I am the mirrorOf the flames of the soul; the Roman goddessOf the rainbow, from which my cores are named,Draws out the soul, cutting the spiritFrom the limbs, leaving a death-mist behind.In sorrow and anger, blood-bonds burrowOver my pearly surface. Gold-paymentIs placed on me for safe passage, as fareTo cross the dreaded current, as fare To cross the dreaded current, within Tartarus.I wander without traveling. When you feel slighted,Take me for another. Don’t irritate me,I swell in a crimson rush. Can a truth-seeker call meby name?

70

Madeleine Desmaris

With a boxy frame, I stand alone.I may steal your dreams and motivstill you prefer being in my arms

While your heart beats full of yoYou played around me more than anAnd dug out hidden and long lost I was your rainy day jungle-gym.

After a long day, you look upon mOverjoyed to be offered such a st

I will comfort you cozily without

In primetime you share me with yoAs you see into the electric worl

The hearth heat at hand chastensThe day's chills and warms my wor

Caitlin Kennedy

On the pinnacle of powerI sit among spawns and siblingsWeave the woes of the worldInto the lives of the living.Speaker of the elementsMy voice booms with powerCommanding the universe to my wil

Conquered by the source of creatiSpared by the stone of deceptionDestiny nurtured meRevenge festered within meFate would soon claim the overlorAnd he would free the fears from

For I am not a stone. Say who I Deez Angels

Sebastian Leslie

Anglo-Saxon Riddles...

73

Paz to GreatnessLaura Bartram

The pony has refracted through thto that rainbow tube, held down by fingers & spoon.Rolling, ceaselessly caught in mimeasure its conniptions in goldenmark them with a droplet of bluememorize them, because at two,regardless of how long it took yoyour hands of cranberry-hand sanino matter how long you lingered ablue, green, aquamarine,there will be a fifty point quiz.there will be breathy, angry sighbouncing off the walls insuch overwhelming volumeyou will think they are migratorypestered away by a rotundfiend with hair like a tidal wavecurling into foamy peaks

Riddles continued...

Serena Mueller

These eggshell stones, a score per child(Though several scores for Spielberg's shark),Are stacked in rows that crush grainUpon its fateful entrance into foraminaOf soft pink flesh. Crunch.Nosferatu is but a pale life-houseWithout these prizes. A winged-pixieTrades quarters for the aged pebbles,Hardened by atomic number twenty.Rich men boast ivory gems.While poor men have but a few dingy rocks.One can only have thirty-two,So try not to toss them:They won't come back.

Julianna Jarvis

To those without cultured knowledge,I am a lone angel wing, drifted

From the heavens, a dorsal fin floating in air.My body twists in geometic fashion,

As I am descended from Hermes' singing sculpture.Apollo's followers read my lines

To extract my tune, an angelic whisper.I stand boldly, yet subtly as a witness

At celebrations and dirges alike.My presence is hidden by a bass-bringer;

My brother of banging overwhelms me.A soothing melody emits from my heart,

Diusguising the pain when he pulls my hair.

Strand by strand, I bald. As my goldLeaves weather, they turn to dust,And hands tickle my wooden trunk.

For he who knows not my curves, the bulk

Of my body burdens his small frame.

Quickly, recall my name, beforeI am forgotten among antiquated art.

...Do you know the answers?

72

7574

Like robin's eggs tiltiOr chipped nail

You both ignore the crack, sprStaring with a sloth expression a

Eyes wid

HIn

Kitten stretch"tell l

But

And built traWeaving in

Round lbut fake and dark an

AnPrinted with pupp

coat them in

A

Lips of LoveTina Keslowe

I Just Woke UpIsabelle Aspin

gross runes on the soymilk boxspilling morning on the duvet coverwe are living in a converging wave and a galaxypulling toward a center of cornflakesdharma and shoes that can fake anything[even the elusive slipper niche]a cloud's divorce or a funeral for achewed up spit out dog toy in the grass

you are not what you thought every dayfor the last ten yearsnot a hero for a pulling weeds inthe microscopic half grass, half ground-berry gar-denand you can't save strawberry milk cowsgive up

you can't stop the world'smezmerizing cereal box slinky onthe staircase to heaven[or bed in reality]set with a squirt of toothpasteby a divine hand that smells like orange juice

7776

Cayman EarringSam Falcucci

last summer, under the glare ofdropped an earring into the ocesilver hoop that she had given dinner in the sweet air of the look pretty when i wear hoop eashining at the chance of my motundetectable beauty.

i was bent over the wood sea-bethe tarpon jump out of the watebread. there were dozens of theslick bodies rippled through thand danced across the moonlightyellow glow. they fascinated methem, how they'd slash around fcome back for more. they always

when i brushed my ear with the earring slipped right out of myinto the clearest of waters and

fortable pocket of a sea rock. delayed and my fingers came to the earring was settled so niceartifact that had sunk down witit as it glimmered and glowed wit looked like it belonged and turbed.

I like to imagine that it is stsalt and light of the fish. it the waters that wave around it.the sun has shed on it is lockebecome of the earring. i like twhen i go back, resting in the i do, i will toss a piece of brangels of the sea and watch thewill rest on the railing and sesmile. i will open my ears to i

Hand on KneeAlessandra Young

7978

HaikuLaura Bartram

Pink pass- putrid &pathological escapesI have three hundred.

GraffitiSam Eddins

8180

CuriosityDevyn Aguilar

Like an unknown train in the diI ask myself,"Where did he go?"The mysterious question simmersBut the answer remains unknown.

But then I turn back the clock,Memories flood through me.I think of all the times beforeAnd realize,He went nowhere.

He was never there to begin witA figure to look up to,Blown away in the wretched storOf emotion.Fear and hate.

But now I have replacedSomething I've never really kno

Ibei

SecretKirby Gallagher

I want to give you my heart.As if it were a heart

Able to be given. Let yourWarmth soothe my soul,

And fill my heartWith the hope of us.

Let my scars fade into you, andYour bruises fade to me.

Let the stars danceIn the sky, lighting

The way to eachOther's minds. Let the

Birds sing for us; questionsAbout us never spoken of.

And they can tell about us all along.

City of TorporAlly Brosnan

83

The SunSamantha Nehlsen

The sun disappearsbehind the cloudsthe sound of watersoon becomes evidentas the raindropsbegin to trickle downthe window panethe splattering sound against the window sillsounds like footsteps on the roofthe clouds are washing awaytheir tearsgiving the plants and flowersa nice little drinkthe sound so peacefulit puts me in a tranceI curl up in bedall cozy and warmdrifting into a deep sleepI continue to watch the rainfalling downas I imagine a sailboat setting off to seaThe rain begins HeavierLouderThe clash against the windowThe sky's darkerThe ocean waves riseSooner or laterthe sun will riseand morning will comeThe rain will disappearAnd the clouds will be gone

82

DoorNicole Clark

85