POETRY

Fate Lies Within Typhon

Connor Tremelling

When a man's reflection,
Bears the face of another,
When birds sing in reverse,
And reality splits asunder,
When mast meets horizon,
Fate lies within Typhon,
When the sky bleeds for one and for all,
Pray they meet Pandemonium's call

to feel seen

Jasper Huegerich

time is marked by the sand

falling through the hourglass,

and time is marked by trees

hitting the forest floor. 

 

fell the tree, the roots stay.

so goes the legend, anyway.

you cannot uproot what cannot leave;

movement is a virtue,

luck is a virtue. 

 

you find your hero frozen with

the weight of their decision in

their mind. 

they are moving.

they are breaking. 

 

they break and stay the same.

the same as they always have been,

cold and

afraid and

waiting.

running has always been easier. 

 

to a creature that only shivers,

the sun is a blessing. 

to a creature without caregivers,

the sun is a watchful eye;

a comfort.

what do watchers know

that we cannot? 

 

producing change is harder

than sitting still.

sitting still is harder

than running.

the world moves with us;

slowly, at first,

then faster, as it realizes

we are stronger than it wants us to be. 

 

your hero is far from virtuous

and your villain is far from evil.

your ideals are broken,

just as your mind soon will be.

this is not a threat,

but a blessing.

keep your ear to the sky

and we will tell you

when

to run.

One Man's Funeral

Joseph D'Acquisto

One man’s funeral is another man’s celebration, for ‘tis well and okay to admit;
For guilt and sorrow are but something we borrow, whenever it doesn’t fit;
I mean, sometimes we’re just glad Johnny is gone, he was kind of rude anyway;
...And then he’s hit on a highway.
The “it’s just a part of life” cliche —
‘It’ll happen eventually’ — that’s simply what they say.
Some years then someday, we’ll all join the fray!
If we -really- all cried, when Ebenezer Scrooge died, well, frankly…
Some of y’all lied.
And that’s okay. Recquiescat in pace, all the same —
Just don’t be a dirtbag. That’s hardly a claim to fame.

How to Live (after Charles Harper Webb)

Jaedyn Small

Grab hold on to objects small and insignificant 

To bring yourself joy. Holding animals of stone, 

Small rocks, clay figurines, or anything really 

That may have a peculiar shape, a texture of its own 

That differentiates itself from the rest. Rest with your small

Item in hand on a bed of pillows, curled up in a cocoon of

Blankets and warmth, while a strong but mighty army of

Plushies guard your slumber. They look on at a whole world

Full of monsters and nightmares, as you drift into a deeper sleep. 

Fading in and out of dreams, you fall upwards into the sky.

Rushing towards you are different colors running and 

Flowing together as a liquid. Gently the sounds of a 

Song drift past you as words seem to appear right 

Before your eyes. Reading but not comprehending,

Listening but not understanding. The sky parts and past

It you see darkness lit up by a thousand small lights. 

Curled around orbs of lights, the darkness seems to

Swallow it all. Yet, in the dark, shapes form, from flowers

And flora to different people: some happy, kind, nasty, mean, 

Sad and depressed, all of whom are different and the same.

Safe Haven

Edgar Allan Crow (anonymous submission)

Leave me in the field of heather and lavender

with my thoughts and mind as I smell the sweetness of lilac

and feel the softness of the violets under the purple sky

the thorns of the white rose are keeping me safe

from the vultures above me