POETRY

Vagabond

Zachary Lovell

I tell you now I am just a passing fancy

 Dusk was swift upon the children

 Chilled feet and runny noses they scattered 

 The valley chilled by a cool radiant moon

 Looming clouds my friend, clouds with the intent to drop a frozen inconvenience

 The wind does not whisper but scream a frosted song to the tip of my nose

 Scent itself has frozen and fallen

 Ice dams have halted the once sprinting rivers

 I can hear it calling me, the way it used to, the way it always has

 Swift feet carry me, much like the loon who wallowed in the bounties of spring 

 I must leave

 Much like the yellow finch, I have performed my last song of the season

 Much like my father before me, I must leave this waste land

 I keep nothing but memories and leave nothing but footprints

 Off to the perimeter, I must go

Mushy Raccoon

Sydney Garthus

In my yard, next to a rock,

there lies a dead raccoon.

Its fur is matted down

with dirt and bacteria.

It sits like a lump of an old man,

too tired to open the fridge.

Its ears are mushy

like the mashed potatoes I eat at dinner.

Black eyes are frightened,

yet hopeful because of 

the promise of reincarnation

into something that doesn’t dig through trash.

Missing in the Music

Joe DiFrances

Through space flying by

fly by planets that change colors, textures, and shape in an instant

deep red planets morph into light green cubes, rough into smooth, holding them

By the sun’s rays, that keep warm from the chilling cold

shining light, keeping dimly lit

Feeling fast but moving slow, a haze in the empty air

With a guitar in my hands

playing to the beat of the stars, notes can be heard

Never stopping always moving

not by choice, there is no gravity

Drifting in space, no path, just endless

space

Friendship

Claire Meeks

The meaning of friendship is something so much more

Something both should love and adore

Friendship is a beautiful gift of love

It’s something many dream of

 

Friendship is the mutual trust you share

It’s something you hope will always be there

Friendship is encouragement in difficult times

It’s someone to have as a partner in all your crimes

Friendship is when you have someone’s back 

It’s someone who helps you keep on track

Friendship is something many search for but never find

It’s something with someone who is gentle and kind

It takes two people to make it work

And usually, both people come with some crazy quirks

So when you find that special friend

Remember to keep them until the end

Never give up on them before they give up on you

Even they need someone to say, “I love you”

For Her:

Edgar Allan Crow (anonymous submission)

Her eyes were colored like perfect blues

Gazing into those appealing eyes will leave a stain

Her mind left wondering without a clue

Finding a way out will only keep her sane

and with a world full of hate she was lost

Her voice had left a melody 

Her love had left a heart-rending cost

The love she gave had left remedies

But at what point of moment will it be time?

However a way out will give us hope

She was always there and always kind

Loving her was my way to cope

So maybe the love here isn’t so lost

And maybe her love will be worth the cost 

proof i've been

Edgar Allan Crow (anonymous submission)

footprints

in snow

made by someone who couldn’t

remember the place they needed

to be

 

a branch snapped

in half

by someone who couldn’t 

be bothered to remember what it 

had been

 

shards of glass

the remnants of a mirror

containing someone’s changing reflection and

something hated or loved but

certainly, something that was and 

something that 

will be

 

the perfect snow and 

imperfect branch and

a mirror like any other

broken by someone

who was and 

has been

for however long they’ve had to

without knowing myself

i wouldn’t know 

how much i’ve existed and 

i thank every piece of evidence

that i’ve left behind

having been here and there and nowhere

there’s proof somewhere 

that i have been

We are the Witches

Edgar Allan Crow (anonymous submission)

I am mad at the world I live in

I am mad at our past

I am mad at our present

And I will march into the future

screaming at this world.

 

I will not file a complaint

I will not make suggestions

I will demand change until society stops screwing with my community for one second

And listens and absorbs every word like gold is dripping off my tongue 

and my words hold the keys to the universe

Until that day comes I will scream until my throat is raw and burning

And I will march along with the witches

 

We still are witches to them, by the way

Our names have changed, times have moved on, 

but the witch hunt continues

Witches were burned

Because they dared to have a voice

While also being women

And society burns what it does not like

And society does not like witches

 

We are still attacked for having an identity

If we wear a short skirt we’re distracting the boys

If we go dancing with our friends 

We’re asking for it

If we play it safe

We’re prudes

We cannot exist without criticism.  

We cannot exist without someone, somewhere down the line, 

telling us 

that our brain is worth less 

because of our bodies.

 

I was only twelve when I was told to keep an eye on my glass

My brother is nearly twenty and nobody has ever told him to ask for consent

Because we would rather tell our daughters that they could be victims

Than tell our sons not to be predators

We would rather say “make sure he assaults the other girl” 

Than say “don’t assault people, period.”

Because that is what we’re saying, when we tell our daughters to be careful.

There will always be someone less sober and more alone

There will always be another girl

And she won’t be a victim because nobody told her how not to get assaulted

She will be a victim because nobody told their son

not to assault people

Walking at Night

Edgar Allan Crow (anonymous submission)

When I wander the streets of my neighborhood,

the streets where I learned

To walk talk play sing cry and write,

I empty my mind of maggots,

Shake the bees from my arms,

and walk until the sun leaves the sky.

 

I walk from streetlight to streetlight,

and marvel at the gold spilling into

the darkened streets.

I’ve always loved streetlights,

the gold against the blue black sky

was always calming to me

and my friends think I’m weird

and my neighbor 

tells me not to walk at night.

and I tell her I won’t, but I do anyways

because I have places to be

and past lives to grieve

 

And even though I always tell myself

I’m walking to walk

And I don’t have a destination

My feet see through me

And carry me to my old middle school

An emotional gravestone

And there’s a twelve year old girl there waiting for me

And even though I have other places to see

And it’s getting late and I told myself

And I told my neighbor 

And I told my friends

That the past is in the past

And I’m moving on and I’m not going to visit her anymore

No matter how long she waits

No matter how much she cries

I’ll let her be

And walk to newer places

And yet every time I find her

And I sit down with her

Because she’s waiting for me

And it’s rude to ignore people when they’re waiting for you.