Nothing

I bet you think the room was empty*

As the soft light made its way across

And the ornate and cumbersome door closed behind

The decorated walls that shone with accomplishments

Now were left bare

The floor, once was covered in lavish rugs,

Now left abandoned and stripped

As the biting wind breezed through the open window

By Vassili Fassas

*Taken from Dan Albergotti’s the Boatloads

No Mercy

             Sitting, staring…entranced.  The harsh metal coils of my mattress have no mercy as I start to notice the subtle cracks of paint on the dull, white wall of my studio apartment across from me.  The pathetic single light bulb hanging from the ceiling starts to dim out, as I sluggishly place the glass on my nightstand and touch the cold rim of the bottle to my cracked lips, stinging.  As I make an effort to get up and turn off that mumbling, flickering light in the corner of my eye, I notice my navy blue scrubs lying over my one chair in the kitchen area, clean, organized, and ready.  I remembered how I used to be such a clean freak, so was she; she would have made a great mother.  I waited for a tear to trickle down from my pale, dead face, but it was too long ago.  This time I didn’t stumble through the dark for the corner of my bed so I wouldn’t hit it, and I didn’t.  I lie again on that cold, harsh mattress and drift away.

By: Vassili Fassas









by: Jared Chado

Redefined Virtues

Red, White, and Blue
Fading drive
Mustangs
Lost Causes
Crusades in the Middle East
Greed
Monopolies
There’s a crack in the liberty bell
Home of the free and land of the brave,
Perhaps not ever the same.         
                                                                     
By: Nyan Min

photo by: Jared Chado

Jelly and Butter Peanut

A nut sits waiting

Sheltered in a case
The shell plating,
Brittle. In an enclosed white space,
You hang,
In limbo.
Repeating the same thing.
In an imaginary forest of bamboo.
Suddenly
A CLANG.
A PANG.
All in your head.
Jelly and butter peanut.
The milky walls
Transform to a cherry red
And lemon yellow
Striped circus tent.
Jelly and butter peanut.
Now a new sensation:
Wrapped in basket weave
The hair on his skin
Untaut by the fizzing fire

Jelly and butter peanut!

Figments, delirium, lunacy
Are shielded with ideal realism
Yet you can no longer
Recall a rose’s redolence.
His mother drove it down the baby’s throat
The richness fuses with sugary preserves
As it triumphs on his tongue
And ever since he hugs himself.

by Matt Moores

Ten Years Later

Blooming in
the garden, under
The bay window. Windowpanes,
Bend your view. Bends
In glass warp reality
Distorted view of a perfect world.

Blooming in
The garden, under
The bay window. Dim bright red,
Flawless.
Smiles grow upon people’s faces.
Await the wonders of a wintery snow, before reborn

Blooming in
The garden, under
The bay window. No windowpane, just
Frameless glass, one complete sheet,
No partition.
Flawless view of all the flaws.

Blooming in
The garden, under
The bay window. Dim bright red
Missing a petal.
Flesh- like blooms, not human.
Await the first frost of winter, to vanish

What a difference
A decade can make

by: Will Ensor


photo: Ford Duvall

Sunday after Sunday after Sunday*

Clutching the thin green blades,
As both hands are ripped from the grass.
Higher and higher into the air he soared,
Raising his arm,

Straightening his elbow,
Extending his fingers,
Stretching further and further to touch
the vast smooth reflection,

of the bouncing waves,
a blanket to the golden coin
dipping into Hades’ might,
Beneath the green dust of the Milky Way*

*Inspired by Sunday after Sunday after Sunday and the opening scene in Green Dust of the Milky Way, two novels by my Great- Uncle Ben Herman

By: Eric Friedman

By: Ford Duvall

The Man

Day 1

I woke up and got dressed for work, button-down shirt, khaki pants, and a tie. As I was putting on my khaki pants, I stubbed my toe on my dresser. Ow.

As I stepped out of my apartment building, still cursing from the pain of my toe, I saw the homeless man who sits at the same spot every day, begging for money. I threw a tin gum wrapper that I shaped like a coin into the cup he had all his money in. Walked a few blocks and it was the usual crowd-people pushing and shoving to get to where they are going.

After shoving a few men out of the way, (still making sure I don’t push any woman) I finally got to the donut shop, and waited in the unusually large line. As I tapped my foot impatiently, my eyes drifted to the beautiful girl who worked at the cash register. Blonde hair, blue eyes, winged eyelashes, gorgeous red lips, and the same glass ruby gauges she wore every day.

Before I knew it, I was at the front of the line, staring right at her. The same way I do every day. Embarrassing myself, I stuttered for what donut I wanted. After a couple of painful seconds of stuttering out of shyness, she said “The usual?”, or something like that, and I just nodded. We never really exchange sentences. I just make myself look like an idiot.

So I got to work, got yelled at by my boss, went home, and fell asleep watching the news.

Day 2

Woke up, today I was more careful about stubbing my toe. Walked out of my apartment building, today I threw another tin foil gum wrapper, but this time I had smashed a bug with it earlier.

Still making sure I didn’t run into any women or children, I made my way to the donut shop, but the girl wasn’t there. Walking up to the cash register when I got to the front of the line, I asked “Where is…uh….?” Not remembering her name. The person at the cash register said she called in sick today. There went my morning. I bought some donuts, walk out of the shop, and threw it into the street, extinguishing my rage. After a few minutes, some birds and a few squirrels took their chance for easy food.

Got to work. Had to work late today, boss piled it on us. Word around said that his parents died in a car accident. Something about them swerving to the side, moving out of the way of some wildlife—I heard squirrels. They were eating something in the middle of the road, but it wasn’t confirmed what. I couldn’t help but laugh the whole day.

Came home and slept after work. Didn’t have time to grab a dinner—too exhausted.

Day 3

Found a dead mouse in a mousetrap in the hallway this morning. I had a genius plan. I went back to my apartment, got a brown paper bag, picked up the mouse with it, and dropped that dead mouse right in the homeless man’s cup. He was sleeping, but he’ll sure get a surprise when he wakes up!

I didn’t get the chance to grab a donut at the regular place—the road was blocked from some sort of car accident. I had to grab a bagel on a different road on the way to work.

By: Jakob Lewis

Life Lessons

My father was the man of the house

Six foot four on a good day
A pillar of wisdom doused
In confidence. The leader of the pride.

A self-proclaimed comedic genius
His steps more focused, his vision distracted
By the tame target that would otherwise elude us
His foot clips like the fearful first steps of a child

Satisfaction from the lurid laughter
As his immense body purposefully drops
What could impede our Goliath father?
But a tragic threat to his mirror image.

As tears dripped down his eyes, the observer,
I stand strong, the victim, the pillar.
My always-sturdy father further
Transformed, desperate prayers.

The fate of the pride placed on
My mirror image, made clear
By our former leader. I learned to
Be a man.

By: Charles Hooper

Hot Tip

Disperse from the Hot Tip

The cool iron

Enflamed.
Skims through the bare air
Deathly Liquid
Spews
Everywhere
Clamor Arises
Men & Women
Act Hastly.
Reactions Slow.
What is the
Power of the Law now?

By: Nyan Min

Alike

Don’t forget to change the silicone in your lips

Add some plastic to your hips

Oh, beautiful Barbie doll

Miracle whip glued to your push up bra

Don’t pin this misery on me

I am not the one who sliced your dreams

Remember that bloody mess

The marrow of life and a hole in your chest

Beauty queens with tricks and treats

The trick was on femininity

Tasty tales go along with broken bones

High hopes for a six foot hole

Have a beautiful homicide

Some wish it could have been mine

Dead dreams and I am you

A look a like, an identical fool

By: Brad Mutchnik

Pantomime

Though it’s foggy, my earliest memory will always stick with me.

 

“I hope I can be just like you when I’m older,” I said through my mouth full of Cheerios. My father put his head in his hands and sighed quietly. I remember looking through the cracks in his fingers and seeing downcast eyes, something I could never forget even if I tried. As a three-year-old, I was naïve and therefore did not understand my father’s heavy breaths, or his gestures of discontentedness. After swallowing my cereal, I put my head in my hands and melodramatically, I sighed too.

By: Matt Moores

Dreaming Lifestyles

You want this
Large prestigious Institutions
White Collar Lifestyle
Substantial Wages
Envisioning different
Well to Do
Blue Collar
Never Satisfied
Intentions are
Known

All the Best

Cold World
Outside
The Hearth of Home
Is Warm also.

By: Nyan Min

Contaminated Core

Come!

Peep into this darkness

Feast your eyes,

Upon this heap of festering flesh

Peer into the depths,

Till your eyes have lost their light

Absorb the core

The source of this rotting sore

This curse I call life;

My paternal horror…

By: Winston Antoine

 

Impulse

Father or Friend

Friend or Father

My face

Red

A slight indentation from his ring

The right side is red.

Impulsive words

 Blurted Out.

Distance Mounting,

Parent & child

Now.

by: Nyan Min

by: Ford Duvall