By Luca Rudenstine That summer, my mother pressed flowersTo draft eulogies while my great-aunt carved pill Bottles in the image of her patchwork throat.This hurt her to swallow, but she still craved Cherries, taking them whole as if she tooCould become indigestible to the earth like How a seed is both a body and a confession.In this way, death became more than it was Ever … Continue reading Untitled & Of a different tongue
By Jamie* Tired of seeing these bars Years of emotional scars I can’t wait until my freedom to shine This day will come in a matter of time Seconds tick as minutes pass I’ll erase memories of my troubled past Hours that drag slowly turn into days But I’m bettering myself in many ways Months go by and add up to years Times has dried … Continue reading Poem
A poem by Ava Faustina PZ ’27 Continue reading Burning
A poem by Ava Faustina PZ ’27 Continue reading Summer Sidewalk
By Phoebe Bolz PZ ‘24 Have you ever thought about the way light moves through water glinting off bubbles and painting rainbows in the mist flowing just like the water in waves Water does not seek to control it just is. Moving so freely, it plays with the rocks and pools like an old friend it is ready to maneuver, ready to change not as … Continue reading Reflections on a Waterfall
I left swimming to the mermaids. God (Freud) made us all half-man, conjoined legs, and sterilized by sex-ed explanations of the human race. On Sunday I left baptism to nameless sirens: uvulas wrung dry. (The salt sours their lungs as seafoam guzzles from their throats). Moans stretch their lips until wry like a Doxen’s snout. Dusk’s drunk fishers see bitches without bones honed to sharpen … Continue reading I Left Behind My Books
MEET ME IN THE One small stretch of close to should be “Untouched” wilderness An attempt at what once was The only place I can walk to That preserves a fading past Here, I slow to remember While the rest forget by living fast My restful rebellion Is visiting our cradle-grave We grieve our dying dominance Afraid of what we “save” Sweet rare solitude Isn’t … Continue reading A “Protected” Past
