Words by Ayden Duchovnay SC ’28 Graphic by Ava Tratt PZ ’27 Here, it is a February of eucalyptus and rosemary and yesterday’s weed. Snow has melted off the dry brown mountain And my friends are at the pool. I want the February of petrichor and pine, I want the rain to melt. I want the snow, I want to brake for geese and to … Continue reading February
Words by Ayden Duchovnay SC ’28 Graphic by Blue Byrnes PZ ’27 Two birds left luck For Lucy, yesterday Just beside her favorite elm All at once she felt As if the roots had willed A bridge, between The trees and the worms and From the edge of her Outstretched hand She sees now Alida wears eight rings, each one An overgrown summer, but still … Continue reading Conversation with Friends, 1/23/25
Words by Sage Lewit PZ ’27 Graphic by Blue Byrnes PZ ’27 Lingerer – They say you are confused, Trying too hard, holding on. Gripping and grasping – missing your cue I hear you. Your words hang quietly looming ahead the masses who misread you. Coin you insecure. Call you yet miss you no Further. In your absence they are remiss Freed of your echoes which … Continue reading Pull a Brain in Two
Words by Willa Umansky PZ ’27 Graphic by Sam Condren PZ ’28 The face of the deep, splattered through the terrain of mini mountains that mock the cavernous desertscapes that confine them. Some mystical entity beckons the sullying of sandy colored sediment, further dragging it away from its provenance. The notable genesis site— dark, abysmal, presumably holy. Edges unsure— hesitant to declare themselves in their … Continue reading Oops, I Spilled My Water
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
