Posted in 2018-2019, November 2018, Poetry

Worry

By Silvie Sandeen

I am the one who causes you
to hesitate, avoid risks, to fear.
The darkness creeping over your mind,
the what ifs whispering in your ear,
the churning in your stomach.

I make you second guess,
bite your tongue,
miss out on opportunities.
I make you indecisive.
With me in your life,
everything will end in crisis.

I crush creativity.
You will bring yourself down.
I am the weight on your shoulders,
you must carry me around.

Wait—
Is that a glimmer of confidence?
That is not who you are.
Too meek, too timid,
too easily scared.
Feeling carefree?
Not around me.
I’m in control of your life.

I’ve spent so much time
making you uptight.
Acting with certainty?
Ha! We’ll see.
Listen to me!

I am Worry.
Made of fear.
Of conviction and self-assurance
replacing me here.
Boldness and positivity
make me cower.
Acting with courage,
now you have the power.

Posted in 2018-2019, November 2018, Poetry

Petrichor

By Aevin Mayman

A word that describes the smell of rain.
But what about before? Could there be some
collection of sound and thought to mirror
this primordial energy that sings through the air?
A term to describe the buzz of lightning right
before it strikes; of ground that craves the touch
of absent water drops; a sky that sits,
tense. I would imagine that it would be less
of a sound, and more like the rush of
electric raindrops dancing on skin.
It might feel like imagined wind gusts pounding
against spread arms, against a smiling face.
This word could feel like jumping from the crash
of thunder, close enough to raise the hairs
along your neck. It’d feel like unrestrained
primal energy that courses through
veins. If you would dare to utter such
a word, your blood would turn to rain, your voice
to wind, your thoughts to thunder. You would be
the very thing the ground is hoping for.

Posted in 2018-2019, November 2018, Poetry

Brother

By Gracie Hastings

I’ve grown to know you as a role model.
A silent, intelligent being.
I’ve never seen you cry.

Maybe your eyes have built barriers
to stop
the flow
of teardrop hurt

and your skin has turned to concrete
to suppress any
flush
of weakness.

I don’t believe that you’re careless.

Behind your clouded expression
you are trying to make sense of
the complicated while I
am trying to make sense of your silence.

I want to understand the different ways
in which we hold ourselves together.

You’ve locked your vulnerability
somewhere out
of reach
from other presences.

And I’ve stored my weakness
in the ballpoint of my pen.

Posted in 2017-2018, Poetry

Fall’s Silence

By Heaven Angleberger

Dad and I approached
the dimly lit winter woods
careful not to crunch

loud leaves under our
cold feet. The rasping wind swarmed
about our bodies,

causing us to sway.
We staggered up the mountain
as the sun began

to rise, its shadow
looming over our painted
camouflaged faces.

We walked in silence
closing in on our hidden
destination that

hung high in a tree.
I found myself thinking twice
about the steep climb.

With my heart racing
and my vision a mixture
of red and orange,

I stood very still
taking in my surroundings.
Birds sung their own songs,

deer tracks seep in soil,
wind echoed off the trees,
my own breath falling.

I focus on the
synchronizing beat of my
heart with the fading

sound of my footsteps.
I’m left with only the sound
of my steady breath.

 

 

Posted in 2017-2018, Poetry

Expired Symbiosis

By Aevin Mayman

Once, I was your
leaf, you were my
stem. I gave you everything;
love, light, time, hope,
and you held me up
to the light and through it
I let myself pour everything
down to
you.

I thought that was how it was going to be.
That we would be locked
in this symbiosis of devotion
until the brilliant end.
But now it has changed.

Always blindly moving forward,
trying not to care as much,
you decided to leave your
exquisite nature in that last
fallacy of a hotel room.

The you I used to know is gone.
It was left behind when you decided
long-term-love wasn’t as exciting
as it once seemed.

Maybe you’re too loose in
your skin to find meaning behind a
kiss.

Do you remember when you used to love me,
or the trip we took to the desert–
before you thought me too uneventful to love?

On the sand you also wore on your skin,
I traced patterns of a life we could have lived.
The life I thought we would.

Greedy waves of air curled in from
outside our window,
plucking away this love of ours
with long, selfish fingers.

The CD spun and called out
to some indifferent God with its song:
together forever.”

Do you remember,
under more of a sky than we had ever seen in our city,
how we verified each other’s existence
with star light?
How we used to be able to read the curves
of each other’s bones
like maps to salvation?

But time has passed.

This Infinity Knot of ours has broken.
We have grown.
We have changed.

I am strong.

Your life is marked with nothing but
zeroes.

Posted in 2017-2018, Poetry

Syd Barrett Is Still Alive In Bosnia

By Nathanael Retherford

We can’t take this,
or young boys squatting in creek beds
with kalashnikovs.

A folk song
that chops back and forth with its rhythm
like a butcher.

Never again, we said,
while Republika Srpska
laid sieges over birdsong.

While church bells rang in
sudden dissonance—
While the world smiled on
with cold detachment—

A horror so fresh you would think
it would be unforgettable, but
faded into VHS background
and scan lines…

Distorted guitar that pierces
still hollow silence in Sarajevo.
Look!
Syd Barrett is still alive in Bosnia,
where his voice cries out
umiremo, bosnia pati
You and I and Dominoes
The day goes by.