Crest 2009

Oak Park qnd Riaer Forest High School

Crest 2009 Coaer Design

b1/ Elina Berzins

Eilitor in Chief Ellen Drews

Editorial Boaril

aaaaaaaaatt' Isabel Firpo Rachel White

Lillv McGee Caroline Wood Ni.r.y rirr, Maranna Yoder Eaculty Adoisor Richard Zabnnsl<y

Dear Reader,

I am unspeakably proud of this issue of The Crest and of the hard work, enthusiasm, and dedication of my fellow editors. But mostly, I am humbled by the creative power and expressive drive of the students of Oak park and fuver Forest High School. It is anbonor to showcase your words and your art, OPRF, The enormous number of submissions and the originaliry of your work this year have blown us away. I believe your wisdom, experience, eloquence, and ingenuity shine through in all the works in this issue of Cresf.

This was a momentous year for our counrry and our school, and you wrote about it all. We gained a respected president and the historical victories associated with his election, but we also lost a beloved student and ftiend, Devontae Green. In addition, each one of us worked through private,but no less important battles in our own lives. These collective and individual struggles and successes are roo massive for everyday language and everyday life, though they form the core of who we are. And this is where the poets, artists, and writers of our school come in to tell our stories.

When f see how our society has come to use technology like cell phones, Facebook, and Twitter to feel connected to one another all the time, I rcalize that human interaction is at the core of our needs as a species. We have found that storytelling brings us rogether through sympathy, and that is why we still srrive to $eate art and to distribute it. When we feellike big things are happening in the outside world and inside our lives, artists work hard to make our feelings universally understandable. It gives me grear pride, therefore, to validare your words and images by placingthem side by side in a collection exemplary of the passio n, clarity,intelligence, and wisdom which only OPRF students can produce. The works of art in this anthology will connect us, teach us, and make us proud of our school, its students, and all of our stories.

Ellen Drews

Ediror in Chief 2009

Historical Note

While it is important to aPPreciate this wonderful 2009 issue of Crest, one should also give a nod to the history of this publication. The Crest, by that name, has only existed since December of 1950. From 1895 to 1928' The Crest went by the name of Thbula, and existed in conjunction with the yearbook. In some issues, such as the 1908 Tabula, the two commingled beautifully when, along with every name in the yearbook, there was a little poem about the person. For example:'John Hansel: John Hansel (susceptible youthl)/Is captured this time, that's the truth/ He's madly devoted,/A fact to be noted,/ In one that's so manly, forsoothl' ln 1928, the literary journal and the yearbook separated, becoming Literary Tabula andTabula. During this new era, Ernest Hemingway contributed to the 1916 and 7917 issues, publishing eight pieces of poetry and prose. Here is a selection from Hemingway's poem,"The Worker":

Far down in tbe swelter guts of the ship The stoker swings bis scooP. Wbere the jerkingbands of the steam gauge driue And muscles and tendons and sinews rive; While it's botter tban bell to a man aliue, He toils in bis swekering cooP.

In December of L95O (thejournal was published biannually at this time), the literary journal's 6rst page included an announcement. "The Crest, heretofore known as the Literary Tabula, has been published since lB93by the Students of Oak Park and fuver Forest

High Schooll' Such fanfare about the new name was mirrored in the frrst poem in the book, titled"The Crest".

This poem gave The Crest a PomPous start, with such histrionic lines as:"The height of all achievement, The zenithof a[ hope/All these are found within one word,/ Our crown, our goal/the CRESTi'

Despite is solipsistic beginnings; The Cresthas grown into its new name. We here at Crest believe that the word refers to-not the quality of our compilationbut the student work itself. Work which, since 1895, the editorial staffhas been impressed with and honored to showcase.

White Editor 2009

Rachel

12 1,4 1,4 15 16 1,6 17 17 18 19 20 21, 21, 22 24 25 26

a I a a a a a a a a ! o a o a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a o

]amael Clark

Missy Gaskill

Kerstin Larson

|ingyi Liu Mia Salamone

Julia Gordon Connor Stratton NickEllman

Claire Reynes Maggie Schurr Amy Gullo Jack Hale Nick Beebe

Paul Lenbirg Frierson

Jessica Conti Caitlin Fallahay

Paul Deziel Mike Ivanovic Philip Sparks Keenan Smith Maggie Schurr

Table of Contents G--- -------O

Sean Bell Untitled Unfinished Digging Through Garbage in the New Warld Up in Smokt Hansel Untitled Sonata for She Inside the Gates of Bethlehem Frostbite

Mushrooms in the Corner of My Yard

The Land that Spans My Memory The Master's Lozte Nobody Helios' Shiny New Parsche WaitingRoom Veil Untitled Born with a Broken Heart 11.11.08

Caroline Wood Adrien Secter

Kat Carillo

Teresa Deziel

LizziHaptonstahl

Jon Barber Maggie Weinstein Samantha Maddela Claire Bunschoten Jane Alice Demaree Nick Ellman Anna Hullinger Zach Durbin Alex Trilik |ulia Gordon Kevin Sloan Emma Benchell P. J. Brennan Kelly Reuter ]azmine Renzulli Nicky Fish Bella Kimrey

TimeTranscends

Striking Line Poem on Tsotsi Untitled Fighter Untitled lf l'm Giaen the Chance

My Alcoae The El Untitled Eyes Closed That One KidlMo Couldn't Sing

Ruby's Red Sheets Batman is Cat My Bourbon Boy Untitled Striking Line Poem Untitled lNhnt lt's Likt to be an ltalian, Puerto Rican, Black Girl from New York I Promised Untitled

O o a a o a I a a a a a a I a t a a a a a a t a I a a a a a a a a o o a a

Ariel Vincent

Muggy Kucera

Grace Fondow

Eleanor Trenary

Joanna Evans

Theresa Cantafio

Kendall Polk

Rebecca Johnson

Drew Linne

Janee Timms

Jon Barber Madeline DeRegnier

Adrian Secter

Ellen Lesser Miles Gillenwater

Delia Puckett

Asia Calcagno

Abby Stegner

Brandon Daniels

Caitlin Fallahay

Tiacy Ewert Kris Murray Tracy Ewert

Gone Dusted Ocean Chapter 1 Untitled Aphrodite My crush Untitled The Qnguided Adtsentures of Rutabaga Brown Adult Lessons Untitled Secrets: The Woild's Greatest Exile Dystopian America

The Promise ln Your Pocket Untitled Looking Ass lMat Oldies Do Winter ColdWorld

Creation of the Damned Through Repeating the past Farewell

No Nutrients for Notice Ain't I a Feminist?

]ames Hanley

Luke Kahn

Elina Berzins Alex Janowski

Alex |anowski Nick Beebe

Maricel Caro LizBeard

Teresa Deziel Bridget Reinhard

Elina Berzins Jordan Gamble

Evan TWitchell and Chris Davis

Ellie Erickson Marit Lovaas Maricel Caro LizBeard jordan Gamble

Tim Knowlton

Van Palmer Wittekind Michelle Black Donovan ]ones Sarah Anderson

Take the Mother-Loaing Blue Pill

Afterlife #7

Drums Angry Letter Untitled Untitled Jewelry Box Mirror

920 a 93. o 94r 94' t 95. a 96. 97: 98' I 99o o 100 . 101 0 a 101 o o 702 . 103 : 104 . t 105 . 105 : 1.06 ' t 109 . a 110 . 111 ' a 112 . o 113 .

Kendell Welch

EkerinAgboola

Kevona Belcher

Maranna Yoder

Jack Hale Monique Hurst

Adrianna Gorre

Dylan Piazza

Amber Lara

James Hanley

Rebecca Gordon Amber Williams

Theresa Cantafio

Muggy Kucera

Yasmine Yala WilliamHardiman

Peter Hogenson

Tim Knowlton

Nick Chudoba

Noah Schaeffer

Tim Foley jingyi Liu ArmaniAkines

Meow Embers Mother Poem Elegy Untitled My Ghetto Family Grandpa lMat it's like to bE Youth ABallad for the Rhetorical Sprinter Nature's Lip Balm Moaie Star Untitled Heart for Two Miracle Transformations from Windy City Us There al Striking Line [Here] (?)

The Sick Three Terrell Eldorado Owens Untitled TheBffion

My English Class

Untitled Untitled Unwanted lnfatuations Reality

Sean Bell

"No justice has been justified, The annihilation of emanciparion Has spread across the nation, The conEscation of liberation, Love and peace are separated, Call it harmonic segregation...."

-Thatt the quote that I created for the belated Sean Bell

Whose situation was similar to the citation,

See, the scene was in Queens, New York November,'06, in which Sean became another victim

Of the NYPD, they used their potency as rheir advantage

But ravage is what they did ro 3 black males, Sean could not prevail And he was a father, manslaughter a man with a cute baby daughter

Deadly dismay on the day he would wed his beautiful fiancle, But the police force forced an early divorce as the 5-0 fired 5-0 shots, thatt fifry

How ironic and chaotic, rhe news that night was like so catastrophig

After 4 hits, Sean was already a ghost. But what made the altercation worse was that the Caucasian shot the most, 31 Impetuous actions vindicared violence, credulous for de6ance,

So vice and so low, although the victims were unarmed They were unable to escape the fate unharmed, Black, male and young perfectly 6ts the description troublesome, They incarcerated and excruciated the mant soul, They gave him cardio heat because they assumed his heart was cold, Now guns are like high-tech nooses, they arc used to kill blacks

Add 50 more cracks to that liberry bell, That equals 51, it's done, shattered to the foor And a disciplinary bandage from the government cannot heal a sore Thatt infected with mournful gore, I cant believe those bandits in badges, who inflicted immortal damage Were found innocent and not guilry, thanks to their"advantagd' But God will let karma reach them before they reach hell, So rest in peace Sean'ho liberty" Bell.

lamael Clark

Untitled

aaaaaaaaataoaaa

You breathe dirty smoke into clean lungs

As you wash your righreous mouth with sinfirl liquids

Everyday Hiding hideous truths in rransparenr boxes where

Anyone can see

But you dont see

You are fooling only your refection

Waiting for someone to listen

You whisper deadly secrets onto blank pages ofbooks

And place them onto lonely tables

Thinking thoughts of guilt and shame

Into a microphone in an'bn'position

It is more than just you

These words hurt

Your life builds to a shallow climax

Of used Kleenex and broken families

Never once did you ask for help

But the clouds in your eyes begged for forgiveness

The weight of your decisions

Are hidden in the wrinkles of your once smoorh Ace

While the life of your mistakes

Stain your teeth a golden brown

Your request morphs into my decision

While your end reveals my true beginning

Missy Gaskill

Unfinished

.. ' o " " ..

;.;,;"

Moon lips

Smile across the lawn

Reflected in the grass dew drops

Those glassy Earth bound stars

Kerstin Larson

Disillusion is an old Czech woman

Pushing herself on wheels of waste.

Wait! Wait for me! She clamors, Whilst I hold the shuddering elevator door. Waltzes in with that smelly boutonniere

And a smirkjiving on her face, You skinny! ...I'm sorryi You skinny! You always skinnyi!

Hairnet caressed like caramel silk. Yes... I like! I like!

Smacks those lewd lips. I exit

And the greasy mecal slab cringes between us. Have a nice day! Rings

As she hurdles through the shaft Like liquid in a straw to A bone dry man.

d

Sharp as the toothed blade that cuts the empty cakes, She teeters around to the rhythm she makes, She suspects beliefs of flowery fate, The old Czech woman

Pushing herself on wheels of waste Jingyi

''.rylnf.'!': ?".*.l'.* : s:.i! .'? : ! :? .Y ? it

Up In Smoke

Sharper than the blade you used

To carve that homemade raftoo

The enveloping winding twine

That encroaches, unnoticed

Stealthily it singes; so subtle

Crawling through unearrhed allies

Leaving midnight traces, graceless

Carved deep, but concealed beneath Muffed light barely sifts through Distorting shriveled assurances

Shrouding waxing willful deceit

Sdll, you embrace, while encased

Half- cr aft ed, half- gr aked you slip

Deep into the gnarled, rwisted curls

Like a lock detached, lost its latch

The elusive thrill gone up in smoke

Mia Salamone

Hansel

I have lost myself.

Forgot the trail ofpebbles, Only left breadcrumbs.

lulia Gordon

Untitled

aaaaaaaataaa

Look, see how deep her eyes arei like holes we dug on the beach to hit water, seei

At the time, I just wanted to be vulnerable. like Wisconsin starsr burning, burning feeling breathing you'

Me. Just please, just once' like in that photo, where everything but your eyes were blue.

Connor Stratton

Sonata for She

She is dirt in the sky and heaven under water Walks with a staggered strur and drinks Oreos on Sunday evenings' She smells like sourness, tasting the cold aic

A touching soul, turning anger into nature. She is bimer.

Flying to the moon and back, she whispers a thousand cries in one word

Like,"YaDig?"

Questioning predators with an insult and an axe like "What isyow qualm with mei"

She does what she wants with Elegance and beauty'

She grinds up fury like a herbivore. A dedicated plant eater, she has never eaten meat, Not counting every November when she carves the turkey and fills her stomach with hatred. Frustrated, she finds an obstacle in front of faith. She is doubtful but reassures,"si se puedel' Nick would know what to do. Her fluorescent smile makes others cringe. And on the moon, she sits and cries on a crater of devastation.

Nick Ellman

Inside the Gates of Bethlehem

Arrive at Bethlehem

"They are killingJews todayJ'

Now we turn away.

We're not allowed in

"(Jnless, ofcourse, you have gunsJ' We dont so we rufl,

Two gids could die here

"Rather live than see Christt home/. '

Not wittrout a gun.

Claire Reynes

Frostbite

But summer doesnt last forever and she struggled through fall. She said she was adjusting; I'll never 6gure out how I saw the panic in her eyes, a different kind of thrill than the ghost-in-the'graveyatd, low-budget

She belongs south of nowhere; she's a summer girl through and through. horror movie look she somedmes got when I 6rst met her. Sunshine is her favorite thing to wear and lemonade stains her teeth whiter, I used to be able to smell summer air, on her breath and in her The wind-chill blew her out of order and her hair started to shed as hair, like barbeque and campfires but sweeter. Eight years ago, she could soon as rhe leaves started co fall. Her brave face was peeling and I hum and you would hear ice cream rrucks and when she blinked there didnt notice. I even stopped taking pictures ofher,just like she stopped was a sunset, breezy from the swoosh of cooking and jogging, because her complexion hereyelashesandonaverageatleastseven ,r...f,t that laSt m'nth Of SUmmef She didntlookhealthyon6lm. Ididntknowthen, different shades of orange. That was eight a. r rr .i ! n-,- ^! -r ^ r:--^^ ..:-t- that the cold was already starting to get her' years aso, berore we

;;;;il;; melted all their Popsicle-lives right her freckles wenr away. Eight winters ago, down until they fit perfectly with

She got worse' but she's still dying. hers, like she had done with mine." I got her ro go ro the doctor, eventually. This is where I start to blame myself; ignorance is I met her during the hottest month of summer I've ever suffered bliss. I tell her that I would go back and srop mysel{, if I could, but she through. I would've sweated for much longer, for her, but it only took me one monrh to convince her to marry me. I brought her home as soon just laughs and says she knew a.,ywaY' She hated doctors; her mom is a as possible; I wanted to show my family what kind of weather I had doctor' She knew' better than anyone' that they only told bad news' Like found, I wanted to share her with them. It wasnt hard to love her and most days' she was right' for that last month of summer she melted all their Popsicle-lives right down untir they ntperrectry with hers, rike she had done with mine.

;*',.":"i:;'i::::f"; take her sledding. She never answered and I didnt ask again' She stayed

o

-l o B o a o

away from the windows the rest of rhe week, shivering and adding layers, shivering and adding layers. I worried, always, I worried. I made her quit her jobs; I made her tell her parents. She never cried or complained, she just got worse. She didnt ever get over it,jusr like they said she wouldnt. she rransitioned from ailing to dying, winrer by winter. For eighr years I warched her slowly freeze over, Parts of her, birs and pieces, wenr ar a rime. The 6rsr winter took her hands away, and from then on she couldnt fface words on my back or braid her hair. Her knees, her bellybutton, and then her cheeks urned to ice under my hands and hot breath. Every summer I thoughr maybe shed light up again. I took her away,to Cuba and Georgia for weeks at a dme but nothing changed. She only had cold swears and at night shed cling to me as if she were freezing ro dearh. It grated on my nerves, watching her die. I remembered how she used to be, when I 6rst met her, and wondered how I could Gx it. I was srarting ro think that I was the problem, that moving her had been a mistake, But she never blamed me, she never blamed anyone, She just gor worse. Blaming myself, and consequendy leaving her, wasn't somerhing I wanted to do. So now I blame the weather. It's her last predicred summer now and she's lying in the grass, and I,m lying nexr to her warching the rise and fall of her icicle chest. I can almost feel the water pooling beneath us; I want to feel her ice melting, but it isnt.

"What are you doingi" I asked her.

"Thawing." She whispered. She closed her eyes and tried to smile. I waited, as patiently as I could, for the sunrise, Maggie Schurr

Mushrooms in the Corner of My Yard

You are unwanted by all. The tree falls and the fungus grows. Small, wrinkly and brown, Except For rhree rall white ones

Amy Gullo

The Land That Spans My MemorY

The towers lined up like trees in the woods They belong to Robert and Ida Robert's rwo mile State stretches across the horizon Ida is 22 and sits at the feet of giants that bathe in wealth and jewels' But Ida is fairly secretive So there isnt much to say But Robert keeps busy I can see him from my window Mass with Disciples Meetings in the courts of Kings Whose thrones once sat on 43'd street But now moved in with him a few south Due to fashings lights and the destruction of their castle A ways away Mickey charms a Cobra

's qJ FA .\a U z .s U OO

o

I sit and see rhis &om a tricolor land

They have now grown small

But dont give up what they held onto

The eyes of the old sit with their photos

Remember how those colors used to go ro such amazing heights

The houses breathe in the taste ofdead cattle

And us friends sit awhile and view our surroundings

Some have nickels and dimes

But not a soul has any loose change

We talk of the place we roam

Some will become train cars and marry rails

One knows he will marry Ida

And theret no changing it

Some of us akeady had new color and symbols on our chesrs

The rest of us, we arent very sure

With Pops in the distance and alarms down the road

My path ended up taking me norrh, rhen wesr

To green 6elds and oak ffees

But Ijourney back and observe my friendd paths

And see bullet holed walls and several exrended stays

I need to walk back to the porch

Try again and see

The land we watch as we sar back

The land that spans my memory lack Hale

The Master's Lozte

Love is ownership

There's a relationship with my hand, my whip, and they will never divorce

Instead of my heart gerting broken, I shatter the property that I own My hand is the teacher and my whip is its lecture

Try to escape, fall in love with freedom, and fall in love with writin and readin

Let me handle my business

Love is new items taught to pick cotton

Love is them looking down because there's no hope Louder you scream the more she kisses

So I suggest you hush your secret crush

And let me handle my business

Lenbirg Frierson

Paul

Nobody

Seven toes curled upwards

Fingers crawl through hair

Orange skin

Eyes wander Bright as the night

Tall Thighs of a ballerina

Feet of a frog

The wrinkles in her Face show worries

Exaggerated Time passed quickly Yet she is Still there She wears her weight

Like'it'was put upon Her in grief

Her nose is shrunken Into her face

But her lips Have kissed many Ears have heard secrets

Dimples are almost invisible Her freckles long for the sun

Sixteen fingers

Seven toes She's gone with the wind

Beyond the earth Miles away In nowhere lessica Conti

Helios' Shiny New Porsche

It looks like it was run over by a car, broken like a well-loved toy. But how can it have been run over if itt somehow gotten on the roo{?

Ohl I Knowl How could I not have realized?

Helios, being a smart guy, has ditched the whole chariot idea, gotten with the times, and bought himself a shiny, golden Porsche instead'

[Het a god. He can afford it.]

So. Helios is driving across the sky in a uberly-slow fmhion to show off his canary yellow sPorts car when he hits this pigeon with an Icarus complex.

Of course, this is a major "\7TF" moment for our protagonist, who gets very uPset at the blood and guts splattered over the front right wheel ofhis sparkly new Porsche. He doesn't want to touch it, because he might get bird cooties, and so gets a lackey to throw it as far as he can'

Luckily this lackey turns out to be Hercules, who, with a light toss, sends the dead bird from sunset over Madagascar to sunrise at Oak Park and River Forest High School for students to gawk at and write poems about.

Caitlin FallahaY

JESSE, Discounting your quesrions with rhe obvious answers, your rAr..mwi,hou, _:,,::*{::.!:;:. "

i#fi'"#;]t[1fu1":]fus'vouch'se'cospeakEngrish'

LEIGH. fEntering from an unknown entrance] Helloi [SeeingJesse] JESSE' Hebrew, Farsi, Arabic, Russian, German, Bengali. Excuse me, may I ask whar I- LEIGH. I don't know any of those. JESSE. [Sitting on a bench, looking afar, interrupting] I am sur- JESSE' When you've been at this for as long as I have, you learn many, prised that you said "excuse me." I would .ro, "rp"., lifrom one like many languages. you. LEIGH. [Sits] How long have you been ar rhisi " LEIGH. Are you implying thar I am rudei JESSE. Longer than most. _J JESSE. Possibly. - LEIGH. And that isi =. LEIGH' Why you ugly son of a- JESSE' 51' o JESSE. Stop before you 6nish. I never LEIGH' Wow, that's long. stated that you were in fact rude, only 'LEIGH. What am I dOing hefe? JESSE' How do you knowi I've said othatIwouljthinkthat,o."o,,.yo.,.,gTEa;_;^.^;;::;'':: ,, like you would o" ."ff'u'fi::H::? IESSE' Becoming human . 51 minutes for au you know. . language, you seem ro be. LEIGH. Ah." LEIGH.You're right. [Pause] What am I , LEIGH. Wha- doing herei + JESSE. And your interrupting seems to imply that you are rude. JESSE. Becoming human. ^ Secondly, I do not have a body, so how could I be ugly? LEIGH. Ah. " LEIGH. Bur I see you as- JESSE. You see themi [Point afar] We must choose a new one ro JESSE. Your sight is deceiving here. [Changes] you seei become. There have been more createdin recent years, so the number LEIGH. Whe ie are w. of us has jumped as well. JESSE. The waiting room. LEIGH. And what are wei LEIGH. Waiting room for whati JESSE. Souls. We are the ones that give them personality. Most of JESSE. Waitingioom for becoming them. [points afar] these recent batches have had less potential, because they are reproLEIGH, Oh. ducing faster than we car- create decent ones. ft's horrible, In my next JESSE. You are on your first one, arent youi life I will be more wise than most of my'peers". LEIGH. How did you know? LEIGH. Probably go offto Harvard or Yale.

JESSE. And learn whati Nothing. Information and facts are not education, Logic, personality, and skills are education, One could know all the scienti6c, algebraic, social, economical, language and historical information that ever existed, but if he does not understand himself one bit, then he is a lost cause.

LEIGH. [Pause] Which one are you looking at?

JESSE. An interesting one. LEIGH. Like a future president or famous figurei

JESSE. We all want to be the powerful and famous people, but does that mean we will bei [Pause] I'm looking at that one. Looks like he'd live an interesting life.

LEIGH. What if one of us doesnt go into one of themi JESSE. They become a psychopath and usually go on to kill a bunch of innocent people. There are more and more of them now due to their overpopulation.

LEIGH. What if I pick the wrong onei JESSE. You'll be able to make it right. I'm 51 lifetimes experienced, but I've lived for less then L000 years, making my average life span less then 20 years old. Trust me, odds are that if you dont pick a right one now, then sometime you will.

LEIGH. Will I start out on the right footi JESSE. Which one is your right foot, the one others say it is, or the one you say it isi LEIGH. Thanks. JESSE. [Standing] I must be going now. It has been nice talking to you.

LEIGH. Thank you for giving me some tips. JESSE. Now which way does it tipi In your favor or someone else's? Goodbye. [Leaves the room,]

LEIGH. [Sanding trying to catch him.] Wait! How do I know where to starti I Pause. He sits. SAM enters.]

SAM. Excuse me, do you know what we're doing here?

LEIGH. [Moment to think] waiting.

Paul Deziel

Veil

Soldiers of empathy swim to me, conquer bitterness even if tempo rery, water tastes sweet dont leave me besieged again isnt there more than the changing ddei be a vessel, pierce through the oceans well 6nd an island soldiers dont match you, you're such an opiate I'm sdll on this raft, the waves are unbearable soldiers arefading I m besieged again be a vessel, pierce through rhe oceans wall 6nd an island

Mike laanoaic

Through the blue currains ofprogress, he peered out, A confident groundhog knowing that when he did, six more weeks of winter would not be promised to his people,

Had so much tick and bling on his plate, decided"Why noti" and campaigned in his opponenr's own srate.

couldni be held by ajurisdiction, analyzed like a proton for eons after the news marathon of seasons for seasons, still won the election. Ascended to this status when he told us ir wasnt about race, when his policies no one could debase, gleamed like a rookie outta a Spoken Word Showcase, tripped up his foes like he tied up their shoelace...s.

His posture so proper, didnt know if you had punched for Ebony Man of the Year or President of the United States.

(Probably both)

His prose so eloquent when it rolled from his fire-cool face, you could hear change before you saw it.

While we were wearing his Hope's skullies and scarves, kids in Kenya couldnt keep kickin with Hope. Come on!

My god, he made me and my family stand in front of a TV trunk trumpin CNN for hours, witnessed my dad weep for the first time, high-Gved a Black man with a Blackberry for the last.

We knew him when rhey called him Barry, told us he loved chili, Said people in Ohio clung to their guns and religion Made it cool to rap the word politician,

Who cares that it instantaneously changed...nothing, Blacks sdll the league leaders in mortaliry birth rates, welfare recipients, prison inmates, and poinrs per game. Yet, we believe this moment changes somerhing, fught now, Oprah's crying on some white dude's shoulder, Jesse's crying on his own so his visiont blurred, A black preachert preachin we dont have ro run no more.

All I can think, in the land of the brave and the free: Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama...

"Ob say can you see?"

Mama checked herself into the hospital' her breath tattooed by alcohol Doctors told her that her baby might not make it through the night. she would leave without him anyway. Mama left her baby in the hospital. Put alcohol and drugs into his blood stream leaving him shaking Heart severed. Eyes shut. Recycled. Mama left him

Family thought she was dead because she hadnt contacted them in a year.

Born with a Broken Heart

Called them to take him as their own, to provide him the love she didnt ry to give.

Spindled lies like phone cords. Traded baby bottles for vodka shots Traded diapers for paper bags Mama walked out on him. Didnt kiss him good bye told him he had no future told him alcohol was cheaper than having a child and that no one could love a baby with a broken heart.

Mama you left me in the hospital and I guess you were right I have no future because I'm still here trying to recuperate Still tatooed to hospital bed like alcohol to your breath

Still shaking like when I was born Heart still broken like it was at birth

Still wrapped in blankets like lies. And wondering if you will ever Trade back your vodka shots Or recycle your paper bags to raise me Your baby boy No matter what the cost

Keenan Smith

ttataaaaaaa o

All cupped hands and whispers,"you made out with a black boyi" she was embarrassed because she asked me what he tasted like and I said scary and nervous like any first kiss with any colored boy. But that wasnt a story so she asked me about how big his hands were and if his tongue was pink like hers. I hadnr looked ar rhem so rhat wasn'r a story either.

-l 'did he love youi" :t who? t 'rnr. black boy" n why would he love mei t 'doesrt rhat happen before rhe kissing parri" o" o, I dont know, I said. He called me beautiful. + "yeah but maybe he just said thar so youd kiss him' o I contemplated her world of black-and-white and wondered what color loving was and how much darker kissing must be. I had always pictured sunset browns and root beer sodas, ashy learhers and black chocolates like his eyes and his skin and his fingernails and his hair. I didnt tell her what color all that stuffwas, shed say I was mixing up "relationships" wirh'h box of chocolates" like'that one movie".

She had a boyfriend, and his name was "Elliod'They didnt kiss. His skin was white and his freckles were roo, and his hair wasn t 'hap py" and you could tell his irises from his pupils at grear disrances. He played baseball and his dad had a"reel job". what's a realjobi 'h job where you donr stand all day"

I told her that didnt make any sense, what's wrong with police ofEcers and waitresses, what abour farmers or arhletesi She sniffed and said that "Elllliot" was going ro get an "internship" at his farher's "law 6rm' this summer; it was kind of'hwesome". "but also kind ofa drag because I wont get to see hirn'

I moved away, I told her, I wont ever see mine again "we11, thatt fine, Ellllliors friend Peter thinks you're cute."

Schurr

Time Transcends

I have found how I belong in a place where time transcends all thought and voice, a wordless song of rwilight gold and endless ends.

I have found how I belong in starry nights and sultry days where languid love is true and strong and sunset lights our smiling gaze. In a place where time transcends, existing now in fleeting dreams, I revel in these endless ends. I'm lost in lucid, bright moonbeams. All thought and voice, a wordless song sings through my heart and touches yours when, still in pensive sound prolonged, we walk on silent, distant shores'

Of milight gold and endless ends, this magic night will soon be gone. Tomorrow brings life back, and sends us on our way at break of dawn.

When memory fades and summer's through, I know though all is left behind, eternal light and love infuse our lives, forever intertwined.

The music here will live within, the braving fire will linger on' Consumed by night, it will begin to light the void when we are gone'

Connecting all of me and you, these weeping chords make sadness sweet In fading sun and shaded blue, I feel I m finally complete.

The music here will live within, connecting dl of me and you to sunlight streaks and dancing whim when memory fades and summer's through.

Caroline Wood

To sunlight streaks and dancing whim, to smiling tears, and loving hate, A summer sung in epic hymns ephemeral, a time sensate.

Striking Line Poem onTsotsi

Passbooks and protocols

Rules and regulation

Thatt what constitutes your existence

That's all itt ever been, that's all it'll ever be. You take a name that defines what you are.

Tsotsi, thug You come to an inescapable conclusion, That tbe world was one long wheeze and rattle

As it labored uncertainly in sleep And every night as you surrender to the dark The voices in your skull whisper "Got room for one morel"

And after so many years of oppression

Of the whispers of the past And the whispers in your head, Of the wheezing and raffling of the world, Those bicycle spokes stat to look real friendly,

Adrian Secter

Brights show the old gravel road

Driving on in silence Secret knock and spoken code Walls whisper violence Stale cigarerte smoke sets the mood

You can watch their pupils dilate Staring faces openly rude

You know no onet celibate Broken down onro the foor -I\ehaze and dark are somewhar chilling

Some cant take it anymore But some can make a killing

Carillo

Kat

Caught, Drowning below the icy lake of life. "Breakthrough'r these words squeeze &om my brain and search to setde in my heart. My mind screams, "Tryharder! I swim to flee the depth beneath me, I reach to 6nd the sky above me. But my hands only &ost as I touch rhe sleek barrier. Chills as numb as novacain trickle through my body and I richocher. My power should be enough to crack the ice, melt the pieces, and set that melted water in FLAMES. I gracefully sink but my aspirations dont perish as my head and heart finally unite, Left my mark: handprints coar the surface. Weakness is temporary, Strength is forever,

Untitled

At a motel in Toledo Broken clock on rhe wall I empty my empty libido, Answer naturet sordid call

A cigarette smokes itself No housekeeping here

A dusry book on a dusry shelf, I own only my arrears Time slinks by silent Try not to notice it I dont lift aheavy eyelid Not worth focusing

Toledos Number One News Team Tells me all I need to know A bell wakes me from a dream Tells me where I need to go

My Alcoae

In my alcove

lf l'm Gioen the Chance

If I m given the chance to explain who I am My life is a bookshelf decorated with brand new books

Never creaked open. My life is a pair of shoes that never 6t Yet the are set at the top of the shelf' I'm the speech that was never spoken The note cards slipped into the desk Forgotten

till the end of time But I m the light bulb that lasted for years. The 6gure of comfort for a little girl Who was lost through the darkness. I'm ajewel resting on a slate Cleansed of all faults and anger The shine of a smile thatt trying to glow through millions of minds.

MaggieWeinstein

it's the setting to my creativiry where the streams of light are sPun into dreams and take up life forms. It's the setting to my creativirY with the snapshots of life plastered on my wall and take up life forms as they sit and wait' The snapshots of life plastered on my wall the hundreds carrying debris as they sit and wait for sacred time explodes into shreds of light. The hundreds carrying debris in my alcove for where sacred time explodes into shreds of light where streams of light are spun into dreams'

The El

oak Park stops/grafrti/statg u11e and ;;;;;**r,* o*os/escalarors and grimy handsI 99 .9o/o of germs kille d/ didrit he say you got cancer that wayildied of cancer in November/his brearhing gurgled/like rainwater minus the clean/streer sweepers,police cars, 6re ffucks, Dad would take us/blood and he'd pass out/we disgusted him/told me scotch rape peels paint offof walls/like the yellow stickers I put on rhe windows/grant yellow polar bear who b"ok" m"/Jying icecaps/drowning in too much of everything/mismkes, you knowl/like and F-sharp, r,ot afletldidyou practice this weekl/disappointed/eye-em -ee-ey/and ils not that I didnt wani to make itll -"arr,--"yb" ,r"*t time/6x itlwith duct tapelquack

Bunschoten

Untitleil

aaaaaoataataa

I love the pazazz As you razzleyovhips Turning hard to soft Theplunk in your mrnk

I stretch my strides a litde further So I can get a berer look

Those crunches have paid off

I gesture with my eyes I m filming you with my conrad lens.

lane Alice Demaree

Claire

Zabade do we bah daY.

Stirring circles of ideas-Sizzlirgon my brain like fried eggs, Drizzlirrgdown from arms to legs, They exit through my toes; Forgotten about like abandoned spider webs, Walk away, dont look back. What now? Keep going.

Skidilibaht skoo saw, voo da veh, Like running marathons. A stunning sound as I stall at the slope, There lies evidence of a giant cliff. Hold your breath-The wind carries as I stand and deliver.

Shedding be-bop scales with a cheese grater.

In the moment, In the sound; Too profound, Round after round-After round. Machine gunfire sings to a choir' A beautiful disaster' A soft staccato' EYes oPen'o*' ,r.o Erman

That One Kid Who Couldn't Sing

In a time where frzzled out PoP beats drain from stereos like coffee grounds And divas high on life sway to the music in fadedjeans and too tall heels

One kid dares to bust out his Sousa in a sea of Little Waynes'

He moves with the grace of apencil sharpener That boy and music jive together like oil and water His face is obscured bY sunglasses

Some say he's shady...without the tree

But he loves the cadence of forgotten top forties and will sing offkey knowing all the words And when music meets silence Nikes will whir as they continuously collide with cement

His only mission in life is to "6re it uy'' Fire up the bland existence of those who tell him "Your will will melt like butter."

"Simmer down' they saY

He will not let the world be without music He will not be persuaded to be anything other then the star of his own show

That boy is cray cray like a craisin But brilliant all the same

Anna Hullinger

Ty!y.': I:( !!.'.,!:.

Josh woke up in a fog his temple pounded and he struggled to carch his breath. Next to him lay a goddess; long blonde hair, perfect round hips, a face that could only have been crafced by the hand of an angel.

Josh was a small man. He had thin, slender hands and a body to match. He wiped his forehead, Ir was sticky and covered in grease, He ran the grease through his hair and down rhe back of his neck. He looked around at the room; frayed blinds, peeling ran paint which ar one rime was probably white, and a painting that was barely distinguishable.

Josh's eyes found the bathroom door, he pulled rhe blankets from his body and swung his legs offche side of the bed.

As he shifred his weight to his feet his knees buckled and he fell to the floor. The room spun as he srruggled to Gnd his bearings. Using the bedside table for support, he lifted himseif off of the floor and staggered inro the bathroom. Without thinking he pulled off his boxer briefs and began to run the shower, testing it periodically to make sure that it was the right temperarure, He stepped into the shower and reached for rhe old dirry soap sitting on the soap bar. He began to scrub himself absentmindedly as his eyes roamed the shower.

He glanced down at his feet and his heat skipped a beat as he saw blood running down his leg and onto the shower foor. Josh slowly put the soap back onto the soap bar and switched offthe water. He stepped out of the shower. With his hands trembling, he stumbled towards the sink and mirror. As his deep hazel eyes met his reflection in the mirror, he saw rhat he was covered in dried, caked blood.Josh clawed francically at his face, scratching his eyes and cheeks wirh his fingernails he tried to remove the blood. In a panic he flailed his arms about rhe room, until one of his hands smashed into something soft, He rubbed his entire body raw, so rhat it began to gain a crimson hue. He gasped for air and leaned on the sink panting, He quietly eased open the bathroom door. The 6gure of che woman loomed before him as he peered our from behind the door.Josh's eyes roamed over the blood spatter on the walls, He glanced ar the upser bookcase near the window, and his eyes roamed to the silhouette of rhe woman in the afternoon light, He grew nearer and a chill ran down his spine as she came into view. The blood was everywhere, all over the bed, on the woman; there were even small spackles in her hair, He climbed across the bed and removed rhe blankets from the woman.

Josh's eyes followed the canyon deep wound across her Josh switched on the ignition and lir rhe joint. The cold air stomach, up and around part of her chest. Growingdizzy,he turned bhsted him in rhe face as rhe car idled in the gxage.He took a long drag and vomited offof the side of the bed. He clenched his teeth against of the joint and felt somerhing rub against his arm. Josh looked down the tears that rose into his throat. The stench of blood saturated the and saw a small gold cross hanging around his neck. He swallowed hard, air, and when he couldnt stand it anymore he climbed down from clenched his 6st around rhe cross and ripped it from his neck. He threw the bed, pulled on his pants and shirt and left through the door. it into the back sear and gripped the steering wheel, revving the engine o The sunlight blinded him as he stepped into the day' He to full. o\ reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of weed and PaPers' He sat; the learher seat hugged his back and the air blew o He rolled ajoint as he walked through the bright sunlight and down on full. Clenching his 6sts again on the steering wheel, he scanned o the metal stairs. He sat down on the boffom step. The blood from rhe garageand out rhrough rhe open door ar the building. Adrenalin (.'r his knees was soaking through - pumped through his veins as though ir ' his jeans, butJosh did nothing "AS hiS deep hazel eyes met hiS fefleCtiOn n.a ,"", t,,i"*"d. He swirched off rhe oo he rolled from side ro side and in the miffOf, he SaW that hg WaS Covefed :--:-;^- ^-r ...^r--d back ro the buitdins. o around the ciny yard.Josh gor in dried, caked blood." 'Lu :.H;?i::::*::5::j5: : up and walked through the bashed rhrough the door into the room. back yard and opened the gate' He walked across the scorching hot The woman lay rhere in the same dim light which leaked through the parking lot. His feet fried but he never finched. He rounded the blinds.Joshdidnrgodirectlyforthebody.Fisrhewenttothebathroom corner of the building and began walking to the garage' He punched and splashed water on his face shaking it off like a dog. He looked up at a code into the garage door and it shuttered upwards. He walked himself in the mirror and grimaced, He picked up rhe towel and wiped into the garage and ran his hand over the hood of a brand new hisface,Bloodsmearedoffchetowelontohim,painringhisfacered,He B.M,W. He opened the car door and got in. gripped the towel in one hand and walked into the other room,

He neared the woman and sweat poured down his brow. He took the towel and wrapped it around the woman's head, covering her beaudful face. Josht nostrils flared as the smell suffocated him. She was cold and hard.Josh cringed every rime he touched her, cursing to himself and wiping sweat offhis face. He wrapped her in blankets, and used twine from the closet co secure rhem. He rolled the lumpy bundle to the foor with a thump, He pulled the stained sheets from the bed and tossed them into the trashcan in the corner. He dragged her into the bachroom. He flipped rhe mattress over so that rhe bloodstains would not show He scrubbed down the walls with a washcloth and rearranged the furniture ro cover the bloodstains couldnr get out of the carpet, He was sweating more now, covered in blood and knees and hands raw from cleaning. The stench ofPine Sol and death hung heavily in the room, Josh went to rhe bathroom and uncovered the hand of the body; he removed a diamond ring from her 6nger and threw it down the toilet.

Zach Durbin

Batman is Cat

You're out looking in A shook up soda

I taste green Hint of Lemon

Squirt on a wall of ideas

Dr. Pepper says "Trilik, you're nutsl' Mr. Peanut debates otherwise I go bananas.

7 -ryping to rhe seven-leven

Snap Crackle Popping to my music

Bustin out groovy tunes

Singing to the slow smooth bears Provoking intuition

Lowering a poker face Revealing arazzle dazzle smile Then jive on back home

Schlepping a superfuous Slurpee

With Reese's coveted chocolate delight

The mind is an interestingplace

Did you Almond-Joy our sray in minei

Alex Trilik

My bourbon boy. Born to mommy martini, and daddy daiquiri. Put to sleep with Vodka kisses, Burning

On your Cocktail cherry cheeks. Rum rocked your cradle, Accompanied by Kahlua lullabies to shut those Gin-bonle blue eyes.

My Bourbon Boy

Your tiny tears

Salted margarita glasses filled with Sour lime, tequila Screams.

As your love for them was ordered On the rocks with a twist, They kicked you in the side with a Pair of steel-toed boots.

If I could, I would pour out your

Mixed up life

And start again.

But I cant. So all I have for you Is my brandy-wine heart And my punch drunk love For you to sip. Unfogged by the drinls, That clinked, With the love your parents Should have given You. My bourbon boy.

lulia Gordon

.Yt:'.I:d.

Green like the color of clovers bright on St. Patrickt day, Green like the color on the grass bright in the morning with the dew dancing atop.

Green like envy, Green like the student body of OPRF.

Green like a quiet hallway, Green like girls going to the bathroom just to cry.

Green like text messages and facebook groups, Green like care and helplessness.

I wonder to myself if it would mamer.

If I would have made such a difFerence.

l/3500'h of an entire green student body gone, Would I have the effecti

The same power this unfortunate boy hadi Would I have made so many people cry if I was gonel

If I did what color would I be?

Brown for Benchi

That's an awful color to be. Brown, Brown like mud, Brown like the sand pit on a wet day. What a wonderful kid he must have been, What an impact he left.

Green like death.

Rest in Peace Mr. Green.

Striking Line Poem

The cold winter night was merciless temperatures so cold the pipes in the basement burst making our basement a frigld cave full of jagged clear icicles protruding from the metal

I once thought ofas impenetrable with all the power down firewood was relied on and when it was gone... a darkness like an enormous unending night that closed in when the fires burned low and out leaving only ash as an epitaph to its passing warmth.

P.l. Brennan

Emma Benchell

Untitled

1. What if god made all men blind Slicked back their eyelids like gelled hair before dates, where men dorit offer to pay but expect 40 I 40 clear kisses. Gluing body to dock like leeches, I used to 6sh. Wanted a walleye to swallow my hook, not a man like my cousin -has woman similar to his $400.00 paychecks. Only lasts until the babies are born and they don't bounce back. Not a goldfish like you were, you died way too fast. Fins sticking out of water, shallowness, made you firt with waitress. Ironed to your side, I tried to make you rectifled but you still didnt know how to be a gentleman.

2. Stevie Wonder probably wonders why malfunctioned eyes at birth wont be precedent for all men. His eyes are clamped shut like piano keys sliding underneath 6ngers. Carit drop woman like treble clefs on music sheets for not being beautiful, Orjudge Rosa Parks for being recumbent as a dead relationship. Heaven is the only ribbon in the sky loose enough to untangle his eyes.

3. Your scales changed like your contact lenses. I created a vertebra; used it like acupuncture as courage to rid me ofyou. There isrit a walleye in my water because your lips wereit quick enough to pull me under, only weak enough to break my line. There isnt a ribbon in the sky for my love. '

Kelly Reuter

Itt having more attitude than most people can handle itt being able to talk too fast in another language that no one understands Not too long ago before speech became a class, I talked in English and still no one understood.

Itt saying cawfy instead of coffee the holding my tongue for fear ofburning it with the hot broth of embarrassment It's coming home to an island of affoz con gandules on monday through friday-ish

Come friday night

I travel to little italy to see dad and fold my brooklyn sr'llepizza

Giil from New York

While I learn how to speak italian without a funny slangish accent and acrually understanding it

Itt learning how to love my nappy curls caramel skin and funny accent And being happy at the combination ofglass cultures that makes the mosaic of me

lazmine Renzulli

What it's like to be an ltalian, Puerto Rican, Black

o

The front door opens with more force then I expect, so much that it pushes me back a little. I steady myselfon the stain glass roses while heat of my hand forms a frosted outline among the rwisted vines. The wind whips at my cheeks, a burn, like licking those first ice crystals offa Popsicle. My toes go numb after the 6rst few steps of bare feet in rhe snow.

But I love these falling ice (lowers and Mother Nature seems to think she owes me one, because we've got 6ve inches and the boys who go door to door shoveling walks look excited. "Take some tea and honeyl'She says. Later,I promise. In an attempt to contain the clutter in my room, I 6nd the pressed leaves meshed into the pages of my Webster's Dictionary

"Put on some socks." She says. Later,I promise. The creaky wooden floor screams my arrival. I leave wet footprints on the dle, then the carpet, then the chair as my feet curl under my fleece pajamas, Outside the world looks like a shaken up snow globe. "Shovel the front steps so nobody slipsl'She whispers. LatetI promise. People are frustrated by the snow, it hinders their travels and traps them in airport terminals.

The leaves with their dark crimsons bleeding into pale yellows, but now they're just as faded and wrinkled as my hands after spending too long in the bath.

"Save things like that, it helps keep the memories safel'She says. Later, I promise. So the snow keeps falling my feet are still bare, the steps are slick and the leaves are still pressed berween words like my lips. Now this time she tilts my chin to the sky and whispers, "Goodbye, I love you, dorit cryl' I scream out, Forever, I promise.

As lonely as

The moon. High in the sky far away from the world.

Revolving in the darkness, staring down, Beautiful, sure.

But do you think she knows iti

What is her purposei

To be a large stone in the atmospherei

She must feel as inept as an appendix. Lurking circumspect in a duvet if clouds.

Surrounded by the glittering stars, outshone. Shrewdly rising and setting with stealth.

The moon is unconventional. She cant even produce her own light She must borrow and reflect That of the pernicious sun

Who warms the earth and creates energy around her' I Th" rnoon must be indignant Is shei High in the sky but not too far away. Useless,

If I were the moon I would be Sad. I would want to hug myself close and let the tears float through thegalaxy. But the rocks in the sky Cant cry, So the moon stands where she is told and gazes longingly down at her world. Bella Kimrey

They day I lost my grandma Was not the day she died

Her mind was like a book written in pencil Slowly being erased With Time's eraser

The mind once 6lled with stories Empty

Like a trashcan on garbage day

After being taken out

And only little scraps of memory remaining

On one fall afternoon

I lost my grandma In a split second of time She was slowly chewing On the hospital meadoaf Like a cow chews

On the dew covered grass of morning When she looked up With her large empry eyes And asked like a young innocent child

Am I deadi

Silence 611ed the table

No one wanted to answer My sister, Angela The oldest of my sisters The one that always knew what to do Turned her face And let the warm salt tears roll Slowly down

Ariel Vincent

o

Dusted

I saw your temporary display of affection all family secrets secret to family keeping association strictly to calendar i could accept that some people would never let themselves be happy ln umeout dad told me to sit on the stairs hide my face while i cry i grabbed my pillow like a private diary with my brother, it was more than wigs, concealer and eyeshadow he was selling grams like i was selling christmas wrapping paper i saw his ads on the internet he was wearing someone elset clothes but i wasnt so angry the honesry hit my teeth like cracked gum changing the surface of my tongue

and the irony was delicious. all hush-hush mother told me there was no power to my words they would only scratch rhe skint surface leaving white nail trail like my world was a chalkboard my eyes were dripping from their screaming my scalp was burning from trying to pull out my hair because i knew i couldnt tell i watched my mother hide her face told me she could lullaby brother even behind bars said, i could sleep with the lights on until i learned to face what was left in the dark

she didnt know then thar it doesnt mamer who closes your eyes itt always dark when you do i wanted to 6nd them, 6x them, blame them. but most of all i wanted to rell them, that itt okay to love one another, even through our family secrets.

Maggy Kucera

You, ocean tide at my ankles, washed memory of stinging past, rinsed hesitance from my stride, took me in with each rise of chest. You gave me life, your touch--my pulso your kiss--my breath. Grabbed me in your current, pulled me to your golden sand, shaped my body in waves. We used to lay so close we saw each other blurry. Traced my sunshine lips with your drifrwood thumbs while I told you you were everything because your existence made up for each man who taught me to trust no one but my mother. I remember the day you said you trust no one but God,

the day your current almost let go of my body.

Ready to spit me back on the shore, scared you couldnt handle my 6re even though only you calmed it like sea shell echoes to restless ears' Without you, my skin burned missing your cool water waves, licked blazing lips until they chapped trying to remember feel of your drifting 6ngers, kept eyes closed, chasing glimpses ofyour blurry face.

But like always, you came back to shore, picked me up, floated me away from fames' So now, I will hold you like last breath before deep sea dives, let you squeeze my waist like life vest because you make up for every man who taught me to trust no one but my mother and I want to be the one you trust next to God.

i{ir':''!''''

"Okay. Do you wanr to be friendsi" Ies. Then house and art and house. Bur there was always a bathroom so it was okay. They said She would be mean nor like Rhona and Eileen o but would not help me. She did. I got sruck on top of rhe tower rhe first *ll 5r day. And She helped me down. I was a lirrle embarrassed. But I never had t ".r accident not like some others.

OBut once I had to pee and She wouldnt let me. I got mad. But I B o never cried and I never had an accident. Not like Russell. : I was a witch. Spiky black fowy dress and broom. My pointy hat o had gold stars and a silver moon that mom made and they were glittery, I touched rhe rough srars all day. Then most of the glitter fell off. I felt like i was wearing pajamas. The other teacher was a red crayon, With writing and the curvy Crayola lines, Her whole body was a crayon and she had a poinry hat, I imagined picking her up and writing with her. But of course, rhat will never happen. Unless I grow really big and strong in which case I wouldn't

fit in school. Then I would be sad.

We went for a walk ro a building but when we got rhere wejust walked through and went back. I donr know why rhere were so many grandparents but they clapped for us, Maybe we had really good cosrumes, better than the other class, We learned big things everyday.I learned ro read words from bookr like Dan the Flying Man and some I already had at home. She had a rhinkinl cap and I wanted one so badly. I wanted a thinking cap so that I could use bi1 words and know how rhings worked and what to do when, She always knew. But I knew more about thar other place because She had never been, I had though, I went for one year, I knew things like why the school is named Bye. They call it that because we are sad every day to say "bye" to it. That is why they named ic Bye

When I go home I always have my lunch and then think about Ir is very high up there, I think it's higher than my house across the street. what to do in the afternoon. But 6rst I put down my backpack. Sometimes mom tells me what we are doing, Russell is home sometimes doing silly stuPid

You climb a lot of stairs and then you can look at the rest ofthe class' Caroline hid up there when we had to take a test. She was there the entire day before She noticed.

Stop, Drop, RolI

things, He puts food everywhere and he has accidents. And he is only at the other school with Rhona and Eileen'

When I grow up I will be a teacher.Just like She is now. But I will have snacks before recess and everyone will get thinking caps.

Nadve Americans, Savanahh Desert Rainforest, Dinosaurs

Dan the Flying Man

But then yesterdayJasmine pushed me. She said the art table was full. But I know it had room, I saw a chair there' They had colorful shapes and she had all of them and was giving chem out. I said if thereb no room, can I have a shapei A red one would be nice please.

"No. Go away".

But no dresses in house either'

I might be the only person who likes the autobooks. That's what she said they're called but I dont know what it means. Because I dont have a thinking cap. But I listen and read along and it is quiet in the loft.

Stop, Drop, Roll Stop, Drop, Roll Look Listen

They told me never to forget, I never did' Some things you dont need a thinking cap for. And I never forgot'

The last day of class we got autograph books' I got dressed and ate and thought and thought'

303 N Cuyler. Thats C'U-Y-L-E-R'

303 N Cuyler. That's C'U-Y-L'E-R.

303 N Cuyler. Thats C-U-Y-L-E-R.

Mom said you cannot cannot cannot forget. And I didnt' She told me I made my sixes beautiful. That they were graceful like a dancer, which I am.

303 N Cuyler. That's C-U-Y-L-E-R'

I knew things like why the school is named Bye. They call it that because we are sad every day to saY "bYe" to it.

Her legs were roors woven into the ground

Intertwined, secured, deep under the surface

The dirt playf,a,lly tugging at her heels

Blackening the souls ofher feet

It dissolves the calluses burnr on by her mother! guilt

Those Samrday nights were never really a secret

The soft vibrations ofher opening eyelids

Woke the sun up before sunrise

It's yawn inhaled across rhe horizon "E la martina giai"

Tangerine hues leak down To the tips of her toes

Tasting the release of human And the unwillingness of nature

Her arms were gusts of wind in the sky

Sending the faint whimper throughJohn Kennedy's hair AtDaleyPlaza

Untitled

Her deafening murmur pleading him Back to November 21st

The hollow bedroom of God Echoed with raindrops licking at the Ripe tang of her sweat And drilling holes through her skin Now swollen with fresh bitterness of Pine and spruce trees Will melt them into rhe next season

Where their rivers collect on piles of fall leaves

"Hey isnt this the best time of year?"

She stayed silent to block out the other sounds LittleJ stepped out ofthe ground And lowered her hands from the sky

Shedding the roots ofanother day to Welcome the lavender hush of sunset

Eaans

loanna

Aphrodite

Listen up

So the mythology you read

Is quite bias you see

Unintentioanlly

Snipped harp chords

Crunched hearts with her golden heel

Rejected man's sinceriry

Always Her ivy beauty

Grabbed hold

To their callused exterior

Unbeknownst to all

Aphrodite meantnoharm

Cant see her insecuriryi

Glossy glare of false confidence

Blinds the male race

From Jupiter to Poseidon

They all housed a granite locket

Firm with hate

Masculinity's not a factor, when your heart is broken

She did lament

What they would do for one spearmint gaze

One peach taff kiss

A vanilla bedspread embrace

Dismantled man's heart

Shattered porcelain rib cages

Always Premeditatedi

Neuer,

My crush

Always

Aphrodite feared being understood

Her life quest was not seduction

Nor attractiveness

For all she wanted was forgiveness Theresa Cantafio

She had a Greek nose, Hamburger bun colored skin, Long dark hair with Four freckles on her cheek, Her body was waves, Very curved, A reddish glow on her whole face, Three bumps on Upper right side of her Head just before her Hair starts to grow,

She had stacada-sized ears, Bad poster fuIl lips, On her face were Black holes for eyes, Giraffe neck dinosaur feet, Bat fingers pit bull head, Kangaroo body and I had a crush on her

....Yyti!:!.....

There is no physical healing

That only exists in fairytales so since you dont kick it with Cinderella or Snow White HIV will forcver linger in your sysrem. I wished scabies bit grizzled ears to nubs because when you told me that it blew me back like the date on 7973 Cadillacs woke me up and told me you're infected. I was rolled wrapped into silhouettes of destroyed narure. I was defecated on by that three pound word receivers help you push out and offyour chest, because you, my sister, told me that three months after your Z3d birthday, doctors classified your red rivers as poison because you couldnt protect your streams from enemies. So yeah, you were given the wrong apple. You are the Snow White in this tale, but the only diftrence is there will be prince to kiss the middle of your symmetry to bring you back cured.

This isnt how I wanted it ro be bur again since this is realiry you were laced with the leading cause of death for black women. Because he dont know who he got it from, I guess he figured what you dont know wouldnt hurt you. It did!

It hurr you, me, our other sisrer, daddy, grandma, and mama dont even want ro talk about it.

She says rhat rhis right here is a false accusarion. Deniall

So you've been sruck wirh daily doses. You're dropped into a pile of statistics. You're shortened time ro stuffyour goals in your pocket. But dont worry big sis you better know always I love you so much Id slit my palm dripping red waiting for you to do the same

As we hold hands and chanting we're in this together.

Rebecca Johnson

Made Up Story

aaaaaaalaaaaaaaa

Twice under a time

Someplace

Anyone was conversing with No-one

About the world And her place in it

Anyone sighs up a lung Whining about how it's all teeeeeerribly horrrribly awwwwfully Unfur. How her life is Sooooo banal. And wouldnt she love To be special at all "You ungrateful little nobody'' No-one keeps a straight face (Because no one can hold in Their anger like that you know)

Because wouldnt sLe Just give anything To eat or drink or Love or even sleep for that matter Because being No-one

She can only read minds, shape shift The like. So both sides sit seething

At the injustice of it all For however gifted they are They want more.

o o ts o a o

EY hEw llvug D L

Adolescence equals adult lessons

Mom you are a lying tongue, never let me slip out your mouth tause I dont want you talking about me

It's ridiculous someone whot taciturn Cant be You talk Palin but I'm Obama You could taste limitless answers Itt a debate you wont win

To you I reek because it's your defeat You think you know what's good for me but you dont-Remember the time you made me dinner, it was a thorn

Pricked gums latched on jaw Gutted because I'm a child you're an adult Dont lie to yourself Wish I could cover enticing Fine six packed torsos so neither of us has to hear

Compulsive papered lyrics of disappointment

Coming from your lips shoveling past onto me

You encourage me to hide behind braces but I'd rather be successful without hiding my mistakes Instead you want people to think I'm perfect Constantly telling me about your faults

Getting pregnant at 16, never went to college Settled for high school through internet

I had to sit there and help you through your math and your science, and your reading and I'm sorry daddy beat you but, you keep Sending that to my memories So I'll never forget

Use words to go back and stitch tattered life "Naya does better than mommy at 17"

When I hit 18 my vote counts

You're so afraid I'll be better than You make no sense

Sounds like round words using voice to convince self

I'11 be like you but, I will get my diploma inJune Let actions write your name tag So I can see your truth expel through your teeth

Mom I love you, F U is not what I m trying to say But, understand I am the president of my life You are so worried that I am better than you and you should be.

Ding dong doors closing. Another strip of urban wasreland point. The nasally, pedandc waver of his voice is not suited to what lined with currency exchanges and people too desperate to be desperat" het saying. "Dad. Heart attack. Next week, We expect you to come. is next. Doors open on the left. Everyone on the rrain seems to rhink Ptoprietyl' thar the rest ofa newspaper is included only to keep rhe sporrs scores and lotto numbers dry. They're pissing on the future of the written

I m going but only to avoid not going. That's the kind of word, leaving us only with such pithy gems as'tum inside" and'drive thing that can really sink you if they ever put your character on trial. o thru open all nighrl My cell phone beeps, even rhough I have it set to He didnt attend his father's funerali He must be a pedophile. The vibrate only. One new voicemail. It's probably my morher calling to ofFer taxi driver gave me one of the most passive ,ggressive yes's I ve ever *l some of her limitless wisdom, if you can call heard when I asked if I could smoke and he keeps giving me dirty 5 itanoffer.

ilT -^-_ ^__ r-! t t . looksinthemirror,tryingtogetmetoroll t

His voice is a srrident, unwelcome "l can-see-him"'frgsh from down the window. screw him, it's cold.. He's 'r air and lingers there unpleasantly.I conside. bfidge Of CfOqUet Of maybe satellite radio, nodding his head fervently like o not listening to the message, but he wont an aSShOlg COnVgntiOn."

a davener. I think abour asking him to change : know either way so I let it play. Het clearing it, but it's not worth it. If his looks got any his throat in that way he always does,"HeyJim, its Fred, your brorherl' dirder, hed probably crack the rearview mirror. I dont want to get in o Lik" I dont know that. I can see him leaving the message, probably an accident' adjusting his glasses and drinking tea with soy milk, fresh from a I sink deep into my seat. Moonlight coyly peeks through stimulating game of bridge or croquet or maybe an asshole convenrion, clouds of city smog bending the harsh, human yellow beams of His kids were seven and nine the last rime I saw them, and rhey were streetlights to cast those long quivering nightdme shadows that il,ready assholes. If it's genetic, I m probably a carrier,Yer another reason used to make you feel mysterious. I miss watching the sun rise, to avoid baby-making. knowing that I had no place to be but wishing I had more rime. Het droning on about how it's been too long, talking in Things blended together x ilght; if you looked far enotgh away, circles. He speaks in clusters of four or five words, separated by long, you could never tell what you were seeing. Chicago is so fat. If I sighing silences. Itt always driven me crazy. Now he's closing in on a

have to go back to Vermont, at least I'll see the hills again.

Secrets: The World's Greatest Exile

A pernicious mistake, That got written in pen, The check you cant nulli$,, A debt you'll never repay, Dont go search for the White-Out, And dont try to rip it up.

They'll see you tried. to hide it, And that much evidence is enough.

So what's left to do

With your indestrucdble secret? You have to put it in your pocket And carry it with you.

Act as nonchalant as you can Whilst your' pocket change' taunts you.

...Or you couldleave it at home,

But someone might see it,

And your surreptitious stealth Would be all done...in vain

Now has consumed it and wont give it back.

You used to have dreams, family, love, aspirations, friends,

A secret yor- thought could accommodate your life But now all you ve got is a life of pretend. And you will be indignant that you're all on your own...

Well, except for that secret you cant tell that belongs in hell.

Dystopian America

We have become a vapid collective We have become a superpower, We had nothing to do but celebrate ourselves Watch as we celebrate head-on into oblivion And one day we will die Of voluntary complacency

So what do we do? We Thicer and Facebook we think of clever srarus uPdares 'We re-visit our own thoughts

And dont forget to tune in to

But dorit worry World, Our flat screen TVs hold no prejudice So watch us World, past our heads in debt, As we drive fantastic feats of automotive mastery Four blocks to the liquor srore.

For hours a day Our images have no meaning. So watch us world, as we desecrate all that we see Twisting it into an abnormal simulacrum of what it was And why dont we pausei Stop, or even thinki Because when we disengage We notice the lack of realiry And so we rush online And tell ourselves, We are reaching out.

The rwo minutes of hate Catch it on abc, cbs, or nbc

Look at all the choices!! But hey dont worry America, tause the talking heads say "we're too big to fail" But someone said that About the Death Star too.

Secter

Adrian

The Promise In Your Pocket

you always have good stuff the best snrff expensive gloves, like the promise in your pocket, empty the pocket, 6ll the pipe promise a good time the best time

our time to close eyes and if theres a tomorrow, it's only ro flashback to a good time the best time the silhouettes of tree branches, fumbling for change, brushing the promise in your podcet, smoke the good stuff the best stuff

change splattered walls change split hair change clouded oudook

so next time you look up high, see the silhouettes of ree branches, like a story with so many holes in it, see the burning ofthat good stuff the best stuff Iook down a lonely alley and say you burnt down that bridge flot me, ilit up the good stuf the best stuff

Ellen Lesser

The sinner is not one who feels regret for his sins, nor compassion for his victims, nor holds any justification or reason. He just sins. No regard. Not for anyrhing. Not for anyone, especially himselfi, Beyond good and evil, right and wrong, iniquiry and grace, the sinner sins simply because he doesnt know otherwise anymore, And to recognize his humanity, one has to understand the same misunderstandings that bring it into question, Simply, he is lost.

"Damnitj'He really liked this shirt and the blood was going to stain only slightly less than the bleach he would use to remove the crimson splatters. He had to burn the shirt alyway so it wasnt a big deal. He just preferred to look clean after a kill is all."Why'd he hav'ra struggle so damn much? Look at rhis mess. Practically looks like he exploded in herej'Tossing his knife into the trash he quickly added, "fuck this, next time I'm using a gunJ'

He reached for the pack of Newports he kept in his back pocket, removed one from the container, and pressed ir berween his lips, drawing in the flame from his litZippo.A deep inhale, a slow exhale, and he regained his calm, collected composure, And then with an effortless flick, he sent the lit cigarette fying inro the puddle of gasoline and vodka he had made minures earlier on the hardwood floor of the dining.room."Let the show beginJ'

Several minutes later, from rhe only patio chair still intact, he watched as flames slowly swallowed the house. And while he did so, he couldnt help the joyous smile that crept berween his lips."Not so nostalgic now that the firet engulfed itl' He hadnt committed these horrible acts our of hatred, nor fear. In truth, he performed these actions solely out of love, The kind

oflove hed learned growing up in that household rhe 15 years before he'd run away. The kind of love rhatd left him so empty and disparate that he was unable to feel anything anymore. Bur as hed slowly sunk into a state of unbalanced insaniry his brain found a new equilibrium, one more suited to his environment, In a desperate atrempt to retain his humaniry, the emptiness in his soul began to 611 itself with the only emotion he could musrer, His immeasurable sorrows found themselves replaced by a bottomless wrarh and his insatiable thirst for affection was twisted into an unstoppable thirst for blood. He sinned not to gain anyrhing, but to keep himself

He'd always thought that sirens were kind of like violins. One only ever hears them after somerhing tragic happens. They can play alone or back up an enrire orchestra of screams and gunshots. And they always make people stop, if onlyjust a momenr, and woner whom the song is playing for. Well tonight he neednt wonder. "I dedicate this number to you, Pops. God rest your soul, you old bastard,"

The sirens were rhar night. If the sinner had a rheme song, rheyd be rhe sample. The cracking of the 6re, the high hats, the panicked voices of onlookers and police, the snares and kicks. And the deep rumble of his joyous laughter was rhe bass, Glling the night air with a beat only the most sadistic of cutthroats could vibe to.

"Beautifull'

The sinner stood up, paused for a moment as if to revel in his accomplishment, then slowly turned and meandered out the back gate, taking care tojostle rhe latch ever so gently as he'd done years ago. Then,he disappeared into the nighr.

I ode this poem to you.

You showed me how to challenge, Falling in love with ones like you.

Ones like you, Fall into the category

Of being a cheap dude. But, this isnt a poem

To personalize you. This is a poem simply About thanking you, For being a complete Ass backwards

Who got out-smarted

By his own little pearl. Yes, I Changed the rules. Before you was with me, You tried to change the girls To make them think They were nothing And they can't survive In the real world. You tried to make them say

"I love you'l So, They wont be a slave With that runaway blood To get the courage enough

To leave you, You introduced yourself

As if YOU, was Moses himselfl But, I already Knew about you. Every step I took You were still two steps Behind ME. I did role-play on you. Now, I m walking in your shoes. You're so scared to lose The GAME, That you said you produced. But you're already charged To the game because Who's really sprung over whom?

Yes, I ode this poem to you.

ThankingYOU, For falling in love

With a girl like me. Teaching boys like YOU Never to be mistaken

By 90 s babies. The exact girl version of Your past years of Being a cheap dude.

Delia Puckett

What Oldies Do

If tonight were you Id unzip the rap music kill it withJackson 5 oldies, trace discography to rhe dps of thinning branches just to 6gure where you came from6gure it somewhere in the grounds of a late 60's decade hiding in a CD case something born on a Sunday night, Only I would think of you while I'm stuffed in my sistert ride

angry be my ribcage raw against the heat at the 6ct you wouldni see somerhing Poetic on a night my stomach could be empty leaning empry against the Blue Line no expressways to visit rhe windshield covering my eyes.

What was that song that gripped Chicago's shirt collar thar nighti

It's the heat that dont marter in it when the ciry sways its backdrop hum its old bones to a classic against the 6rst snow.

Its like frozen glass cutting into bare ankles Waking at two just to say you saw the first snowfall

It's sweet mouths, favors, and chores for bits ofcandy and cookie dough

Itt sap and pine perfume, sticky hands that wont leave for a week Black ice, sliding and falling making you curse dll you're blue

It's forgorten papers sleepy 6lled days Frosted glass cut our hands Villages of people misshapen and tilted

It's spending so long indoors that everyone turns the same color

Asia Calcagno

It's multicolored marshmallows with Rudolph noses and running watering eyes.

Itt clumps of icy sparkling warer sticking on dark hair.

oaaoaoaaaaa

See I dont think they know how many dreams I've had of making it, believe in success but to failure I'm an atheist, a patriot, give me the chance I'm taking it Cant wait till the day when I can get paid to vacate, But I keep gefting turned down like techno music, but producers say my swag is predictable, Ih about to lose it, chunk the deuces, stuck like a glare from Medusa, my image is invisible, and my lyrics is a mix of both. frostbite, throw me out the cooler. But I'm Ice, So if I was a ghost writer, I would be a deadly chemicali known to rock a hoodie, never scared to go at a rappert head like clippers Man, I just want to be signed with a clothing line With traffic into hallway, my flow will make you pullover, and somebody to do my laundry, like a hoodie with no zipper See I m tired of all the criticism, live in Chicago but with money in my hand, about ro burn my rap journals and say"forget thisi' I walk around with palm trees. but rap is like a sixth sense. I swear rhe streets promise me that one day I will get a deal, Maybe I should play like auro mechanics and retire, but as an artist. they say I'm sick, but I've been rapping for seven years A-Game, fuch and Doeboy say,"How can you retire and this game has been a drill. from something that you never startedi"

A & Rs claim my lyrics will offend many, Maybe because the way I rebuild my flow, is making me a target. they assume I rap about guns and robberies, but how could words from my mouth make people catch more fillings than rotten teeth? I'm just trying to take offlike rocketry, unite A.T.B., and become a prodigy'

o

the dam gives, the timebomb detonates, aroaritg drowning wave of utter and complete desolationyour own little Hiroshima. as two years dance, mocking, across youf eyes, but this time, the power is in your hands, -l ) o o |.t o ct) +

to take this knife and carve a new identity into your palm, a prison number branded on your wrisr with each new sin. with new tracks, roses blossom amongst the snow, red caged inside the white kept paralyzed

enticing with memories of shadows in a coloured cool autumn, a warmer sun than this desolare winter yolu pray to leave behind, the roses blooming in aghost oftheJ239578 across your veins dont smell as sweet as you remember, locked behind the electric fence of your grandmother's tomb.

and only God knows to what benefit orjust how idiotic this bloody conflict will be, and everyone knows het not talking. the secret he whispers is of bicersweet seduction you'd known once before candy-wrapped in springtime at Auschwitz.

o Caitlin Fallahay

Umbilical cord stretched across miles. Hand trembled for scissors. Untouchable.

Family wounds uncared for by 6rst aided smiles. Dirt encases you like newly laid tiles; "Gone" written upon the casket is your label.

Umbilicd cord sretched across miles.

Farewell

All the 6mily ree is left with: blood 6lled vials. Videos not even on cable.

Family wounds uncared for by first aided smiles.

Barrels of lies foat in wake of aisles. Porcelain bathtub; rocking girl unstable.

Umbilical cord sretched across miles.

Grief tuned into one station. Unmovable parry dials. No celebration with pictures on tables.

Family wounds uncared for by 6rst aided smiles.

A11 affairs simply put into 6les. Memories. Please. Become forgotten fables.

Umbilical cord stretched across miles.

Family wounds uncared for by first aided smiles.

Tracy Ewert

No Nutrtents Eor Notice

In exly March, Tony's mom pours warnings into one of his ears just to see them trickle out the other.

They plop to the floor andfertilizethe ground ro sprout empry promises from seeds of resentment.

Leaving his mom's words malnourished he drives to the parry. His foot is planted to the pedal and the wheds grow our ofhis control like mangled ivy on the sunny side of a building.

The iron train pushes through rhe rour ofhis body.

Passes through his highways of blood, cities oforgans, country sides of muscle, and finally out to its cold asphalt destination.

Days after the accident he laid dormant

The Honda Civic flips over, curls up, and dies.

He wakes up with a gun pressed to his face and his limbs rurn to liquid.

The small amounr of warning that is still sloshing around in his skill condensares onro his forehead. Pushes the gun away but a bullet still manages to glide rhrough his fleshy abdomen.

Just like the seeds of late December.

Kris Murray

rside Eve's womb amily tree of the world ,ays her roots eeding branches of ebony and birch and redwood and ak. )ushing up from dry soil of American hypocrisy, irected pines receive the pleasure of the sun ilocking out daughters of slavery, mills, and Seneca Falls' ihe bore slashes more than any mani iore children to every man. laked in heat rays iharing sweat with superior opposite sex, fr/ho never had to chew on roots lor aborting raped babies. )nly rebellion she had; )nly way to shield her human rights. 3ut dusry words of historians )ont add her name next to Elizabeth Cady Stanton

Or Alice Paul. Was their Rebellion grearerl Aint she a Feministi Freedom from master s legs

Did not liberate from ebony bark Or " Y - ed" feminine branches. Voices leafed through microphones, Struggling to wrap rheir vines Around sympathetic audiences. Unheard through words or speech or acts, Ebony faded into the background Forgotten among Motts and Anthony.

Werent they all speaking loudlYi

Aint she a Feministi She worked for independence

Or maybe it was running away from home Before the marriage bells,

But

living inside her sisters'bodies

Working with shoot on her dress

For pay in negative numbers Was not taken. Is picketing not activismi Were the protests not like Outside a white house? Aint she a Feministi Equality cries when stories of sisters are not told' Seneca Falls, Ieading tree in the forest of oo O feminism, o But not the mightiest c-r How dare you turn your trunk against the need o For sunlight. Tracy Ewert

-l

Take The Mother-Lozting Blue Pill

I am not a shape

But shaped, each name scrapes a new way For my body to be.

o

I am not myself But culminations of expectations And expected locations , and reirerarion And regurgitation, I am not one of rhis world But ofthe nexu

I am a discursive reality - I am What you say I am.

We transcend physical exisrence For a universe where we are Tiny zeros and ones The signify facts and biographies.

I'll see you on my way out As you're on your way in To the rabbit hole.

Be sure to tell me when you reach the end.

Billy witnessed his 6sh rising Belly-up to the top of the bowl, Rather than be saddened, hejust wondered What would happen to his soul

Billy hoped he had a good Christian Fish, Who took all advice from a Fish Reverend, But then it occurred to Billy, How do 6sh breathe in Heavenl

So the 6sh goes up ro heaven, and suffocates. and conrinues to die and go back ro heaven, No one has water in heaven, What do they need it fori

The 6sh died time after time For 60 years, Until his former masrer Billy, Ascended up to heaven

By Elina Berzins

Nick Beebe

Maricel Caro

Chris Daais and Eaan Twitchell

Liz Bcnrd

Drums

The sound is an animated machine

A failed yet exotic invention:

Several gears, four pounding hammers

A whistling smoky orifice

The bigger-patter of chain-link flagella And all powered by a manic engine.

A contraption beat into my head

Where it encroaches on my senses

Grirry like sawdust, worn like ancient leather, Pungent with locomotion, And damn if Carlos isnt nailing that pitter-patter Borders has never witnessed such a thing.

I eat a snoory sample trufHe

Letting it contrast with the organic thunder And marvel at its quaint petite-ness

Is the store open, I wonderi Surely the CDs and books and souvenirs Have tumbled from their shelves.

An un-entranced spectator mouths the words

'I was right, she was pregnani

To a friend. Well, fair enough. The rest of the audience has been Lulled into the rhythmic chaos Chief TallHat will hereafter live to the beat

The beat comes to a halt New machines spring into the sonic vacuum

Like lemmings, one after the other, often hesitant And not so well-put-together

Yet he sensitive poker-face of courtesy

Yelds each creation identical staccato appreciation.

A sputtering carengite drum solo Enacted over a cacophonous blanket Ends the bizarre display of Musical persuasion: Vfua ao ritma

The lingering infuence of the animated machine

Daces my feet out of the door.

lmage by lordan Gamble

Tim Knowlton

Pacing the foorboards of my room, Obscenities blasting from my mouth, My head congested by unbelievable rage. It was time to write someone aletter.

Thoughts arriving like furious horners

That cant wait ro pierce human fesh, Delivering ghastly amounts of their venom

With every last word. A food of dark energy building in my mind Crashing through my veins, streaming down my wrist, Concentrating in my fingertips, and ejaculating out the tip of my pencil

Onto my scorching fiendish masrerpiece. Hideous things escaping the depths of my soul

Things I would never dare say aloud.

The letter is cruel beyond imagination. A.nd it's not written for any eyes but mine. It goes away in the dark drawer of my desk. It was never meant ro see rhe light of day, or the terror on the recipient's face,

Untitled

When I think about theml realize

They were a plaid blanket

Tore apart into three pieces

Next to the wrinkled sheers They were a plaid blanket

Setting innocence down Next to the wrinkled sheets

Walking out rhe door locked door

Setting innocence down

Part of a torn triangle

Walking out rhe door locked door

Lies turn into the truth of broken springs

Part of the torn triangle

When I think abour them I realize

Lies turn into the truth of broken springs

Tore apart into three pieces

Van Palmer Wittekind

Michelle Black

The street is the mind of a monster.

And the lights project tomorrow's ouccome on the curb.

The block is empty because it's dangerous to go home. It smells like death rordng on the clock of time as the hour changes to midnight.

The ground is soft, so when people end, they dont endure painThe sewer is as dry as the dirt that doesnt Procreate trees. Stop signs walked away, so death could take its toll on the innocent.

"MEl Go THERET I'll pass"

The aura sounds like gunshots in a hollowed hallway. Grammatically this is the worst sentence the books could throw at you.

I m driving down an empty road and I see Michael standing next to a fire hydrant on Division and Western.

Untitled

He was a well-known thug of outlandishness. Het able to stand in deatht face and laugh hysterically.

Kono hito wa abunai Swisher sweet cigarillos for fingers and bullets for teeth. Mother's tears and the blood of the young is his favorite cologne' He wasjust an averageJoe that youd see around here. They call him Mickey Rocks because he sold what his last name is.

The street is the mind of a monster.

And he'Il be the person that'll cause it to descend.

Every ounce that he sold, every cop he killed, every feeling of anger, every feeling of envy, every feelingof redemption , every feelitg of greedIs the reason why we aren't where we needed to be.

Donoaan lones

Innocent white dresser, Amacked by dark makeup misrakes.

Dark makeup painted on your eyes, Stare back at themselves from small jewelry box mirror

You've had this box forever. It looked different in our old roomSurrounded by clutter on innocent white dresser. Nail polish painted hearts on walls, Red polish over blue painr, A clash we both miss.

Music bounced offceiling and floor stuck on walls. Wal1s loud with memories. Doors full of our heights over rhe years, Finally caughr up ro you.

Windowpanes full of nicknames, The glass hugged by brick building nexr door. Rusted vent holding yell tin box, Crumpled papers inside wrirten on in ink the color of change.

Paintbrush lying on useless purple desk. Painted on walls, And painted smiles on our faces, Smiles lingered in the air until stale.

Cheeks stained with tears, Over the phone when you said, "im movingl

Meow

Dear everyone locked inside a box

I want to know whar you are thinking

But that would be like having a conversarion

At the bottom ofa pool

I want to give you the key out

But you have to realize that ir's only a key

When you're locked inside a box

Outside the box A key is a duck

When you roll your duck into a giant snowball and escape Come talk to me

I will show you that life is much more fun when you think Outside che box Quackl

Sarah Anderson

Kendell Welch

We met by chance

With potential to harbor love

That barely came to my ankles, But we 6d it like 6re. It took me away on silver waves.

Like the swells of the ocean. Her touch was overwhelming My heart was no match for her gaze

With potential to harbor love

Our progress started slow, But we fed it like a fire That grew into a volcano. Like the swells of the ocean, Both stunning and captivating. My heart was no match for her gaze Which pierced so tenderly.

Our progress started slow like embers among the coal, That grew into volcano

In a sea of green.

Both stunning and capdvating

Like the full moon on a summer evening which pierced so tenderly, A privilege not shared by many.

Like embers among the coal, We met by chance. In a sea ofgreen That barely came to my ankles.

Like the full moon on a summer evening

It took me away on silver waves. A privilege not shared by many, Her touch was overwhelming.

Ekerin Agboola

Afraid of the dark

Doesnt like to shop Always smells like srawberries And fresh cut paper Can yell so loud My spine melts Intojelly sliding across rhe floor She's so annoying Always on my case Constandy, telling me things that I Do not want to hear "You can do better" "You need to try harder" Works all day Comes to me Tired as the worn rail In a door know But she cant sleep Too busy pounding At me Pushing at me Limp like sring She keeps pushing She's crazy. On my case Whyi She replies Its myjob Keaona Belcher

.....'.1:g!......

I cry for you, I weep, my tears are a monsoon but your cup is turned upside-down so my thick monsoon tears only run offthe sides, I write you poems hidden in the wild morning glory paint you the sky rise the sun for you just so you can rouch me, taste me, I want to caress you hold you, fold you in my arms encase you in silver-tongued silence whisper to you, my child that you are worth far more to me than the monsoons I pour or the skies I paint. but you run, run far,far from me so I caress empry air and cicadas greet my promises, my child, my bride I can do no more but stand and hope you return to me rending my heart and crying a monsoon.

Maranna Yoder

Untitled

Standing and smoking alone so Aloof

His mind quire wise, but still rather quaint

I suppose Mic hol Murphy is living Proof

Of worn souls in this world with no Complaints

He worked past the Troubles

The years ofdestroyed Faces

He helped those who traveled by stumble

Out of rubble and bombed out places

He sat with his sweetheart and sang her the country Songs

The kept it known that her hope was not a Waste

He prayed for the masked souls'Wrongs

Tho"gh they took each other with such haste

Tears were common but hatred never stayed

The winds of time blew away the pains of confict

Because life shifts like when the barley sways

And a life of anger and sorrow is not one to depict

But When the doves came he proposed on the bridge so Somber

Over Kilbride's creek in the Cold

His promise her was love and Wonder

And he fufilled this pact even as they grew Old

Now he sits smoking and tells me Past and present thoughts

His stories of strife as plentiful as the August Rains

And all the while it was always peacehe Soughc

Because whet*rer young or old, to him Peace was all the Same.

My Ghetto Family

I was at my Grandmat house

It was a Sunday so I knew she cooked up some stuff

Walked down the stairs Into the living room And the whole family was rhere Granny, Nada, Net, Sally, Wanda, Qiana, Keisha,Brittany, pookie and a whole lot of project rats

"Save a plate for Nathaniel" While cousin Tasha screams... "Daeshanae get yo butt in here so you can ear"

o

I'm just standing there Looking and shaking my head Saying'dangjoe" I got one ghetto family Walked down the hall

All while talking on rhe phone and sucking on a chicken wing I have one ghetto family Finally, I have my plate of Mac & cheese and my chicken in one hand

On my way to the kitchen ro get my'grub on' I mean Granny cooked up everyrhing We had chicken, Mac & cheese, collard greens, corn bread, dressing peach cobbler, and a sweet porato pie People ran to that food like vultures Bumping into chairs

Dropping silverware Granny in the background yelling...

-l Monique Hurst

And my grape Kool-aid in the other along wirh an aspirin because these kids are geming on my nerves 'MAMAII Brianna took my coloring book'is my little cousin Pooh screaming

Grandpa

Though all your silence, now I hear you

I didnt know you well, and I wondered Was I good enoughi

Why did youjust sit back and watchi

The real problem was in you,

In your lungs.

When you said'my stomach only hurts alittle' You protected me. I remember downstairs in the basement

Frigid air, white tiles.

We used to watch Wheel of Fortune on floor model TV

You laughed. Your teeth gleamed like a mirror full of sunshine whenever I guessed the phrase correcdy.

The pain you felt after that laugh inspires me ro keep going'

The I started watching the TV alone

Space heater, grey dusry dles, Guessing the phrases as often as you went in and out of chemo

Carcinoma invaded your lungs like lerers of the alphabet left my lips, For two years.

Knowing the truth about you would have held me back But now I want to you to guess an 8 letter phrase 4 consonants, 4 vowels,

It's thank you, Because I dont hear your silence anymore I hear you've won thejackpot.

Andriana Gorre

What its like to bE

It's like chocolate cake across candyland 6elds

sunny banquet on stofmy seas

Find the white mouse crawling under twisted branch

To succeed pink worm at last

It's as hard as the easiest task

As long as the shortest road

To step across broken lollipop sticks

How bout them candy kicks knicks

It's like being a king of a land sending a billion strong

To fight a war for peace

A friendly teddybear killing duck

Itt like a door bell ding dong

Me is a ribbon lost in paperclip seas

I is a swollen nail on Christmas eve

Giant GIANTS heave.

Its one giant sloo

Im lost in my mind, alice is coming home

The rabbit should have minded its own

Pick up the phone

HAPPY UNBIRTHDAY TO YOU.

Dylan Piazza

Youth

I want to go back to my days of youth

When shut up was a bad word, a rubber was a tire on a tree and slavery meant, they picked lots of cottonl Way back when I didnt have to worry about swag.

Geming high was on a swing picture books hard to read

To when I could stay outside from dawn until dusk, My lullaby was crickets and my mom's voice saying'tleep dght, dont let the bed bugs bitei'

When math was easy, with terms like add and subtract Rocking Velcro light up character shoes, thought I could be like Mike and fy and imaginary friends could be seen I want to go back, close my eyes and travel back

To when I believed in magic, and loved that big purple dinosaur green eggs and ham were cool, thought karma was a type of candy and color didnt matter, because I was just a kid'

Now I'm back to reality and seeing things clearer

There are no more days ofyouth and freedom

No more days of shut up being the 't" word

I've learned that slavery means rape, good breeding mixed races, and humiliadon.

Constantly checking my swag, wondering what people think'

Have to pay attention in math moving past multiply and divide, watching greys instead of my purple.

Dr. Seuss has been replaced by Mildred D. Taylor and Mr. Webster

My lullaby is gun shots, cussing and 6ghts, clowns

abducting kids jumping rope down the block.

Oreot notjust a cookie, it's a stereorype used to try and de6ne me.

Now karmat what goes around comes around, and magic is an illusion. Imagination has faded, and I'm blind to things unseen'

I pray those long gone days will come back, so when I tuck my little girl in at night

I can whisper in her ear, "sleep tight, dont let the bed bugs bite."

Amber Lara

ABallad for the Rhetorical ter

I watch; I watch, sitting, Staring. Starring arguments, thinking how ro connecr this dot to that one, Seeing if they blow up when they do.

Explosions!

Dont shock me anymore.

o a o

Extinction! Gets thrown around like the last piece of pizza; to be consumed- with a vicror and subsequent loser.

O DEAR LORD THE HUMANITYI

Your cries of humanism are simply unfounded moral imperatives that the slave mentality forces you to fall back on, a truck chained to the deep-rooted tree of suffering pulling away, ard smashing backwards.

[not really]

I often lie nowadays. And the more I lie, the more I am accepted, and the more I achieve. I'[ lie 6 times a second, 360 times a minute, for 8 and 5 minute segments, Because my nuclear war is much worse than yours.

Licorice sticks cant slow me down no more, I'm offlike a donkey for a carror- dangling in front of me, bur never mine.

LIFE! Is mine for the taking, claiming and raping of all value. Your life, my life, andevery soul on earrh is mine to be used, mined and Mind is the muscle to move ro

Make your words smooth like glue, But

Dont wait up for me, I'malready way ahead of you.

lames Hanley

Nature's Lip Balm

I would wish for the storm. Wait with unyielding dry lips Split rough like snake scales

When rubbed the wrong way. Hoping to catch the liquid beads That would plump them, And fasten thejagged edges

Like nature's glue, First there would be thunder. An alluring sound, Making my throat scorched with thirst And my lips crackle like parchment papen

Then dry purple lights, Like 6re with food coloring would erupt. Tremors split through think cement sidewalks, And then they fell.

Soft at 6rst.

Like bubbles, they would driftlazily to the ground. Slowly soak and erode the soil. Kiss the lips that had been waiting with love. Pound harder as the wind crept faster like hunting cats, And seal the bleeding gashes on parched pink skin'

In the wet, soft, sbrunken curled'up ffiotnents of tbe rain,thete would be silence.

All to soon it would stop, and my lips would be left aching for more'

Rebecca Gordon

Spot the target

it's time to prey

Moztie Star

I m going to show her a good time today Then I see her walking home

There's no way a girl this cute should be alone I slowly lure her in my car

If this was a movie shed be the star Shet crying they must be tears ofjoy I m feeling like a little boy She's getting louder

I feel so good I d take her with me if I could I cover her mouth to calm her down Shes fast asleep without a sound I decide to take her to the park

She still sleeping as we venture through the dark I'll leave her here so she can rest Tomorrow I'll 6nd someone new to bless I found a good one I must say Man

Today was a good day

Amber Williams

Waiting at my window. It's an icy February afternoon. I'm waiting at my window, with my new hat on and my new Nikes, Thinkin Im looking pretry fly.They're lare. See a crappy red car pull up, I jump out of my house, hop in their car. Take a quick panoramic of my new environment. Passenger seat: Who's this trashy lookin girli She looks older than us. Net to me: my friend Mike he has some blunts, Nah, he didn't go toJarredt but he knows a lot about pearlin'. Look at the driver: 'Ahh hey Jay haven r seen you for three years. Howt it goin i" "HeyT.C. was gudi Damn gurl look at chyou you got a sryle and all that. How you isi" Quickly think to myself, he looks different since the last time I saw him..,wait wasnt his dad that one who went to jail in 8th grade gradei Maybe that was just a rumor. I always wanted to ask him, but I thought it would be rude."I'm good, yeah I'm doin good." "Good good." We pull offtake rhe Eisenhower. Get a text, check it. Itt my Mike next to me: -THAT GURLS ONE OF GEORGE'S HO'S-

q, Oh shit.Jay- "Okay guys so my dad got arrested a couple days ago.,J' + Mike-"Oh for whai" Jay-"He got pulled ova by da poes had himself o a shit load of malt liquor and the cops got him on thar, then they searched his car. he had an O of budl'Me and Mike-"Damn!' Jay"Ya, damn whack the po, Aight some and my sis gotta take care his business while he injail. So yall coo wit chillin huy while I do what I gotta doi" Us-1..yeah k'

Yeah so his dad was the one who went to jail in eighth grade. Turn right on State, head south to Cermak.Jay:'Mike you n o fugin Mohawk is gonna stick out like a mofo in rhis neighborhood. You too 7.C., but your nikes pretry fresh. Hope nobody sreals eml'I fash a

a o a a a a

nervous smile."Nah T.C. jusr messin wit chyal'Me-"haha I knowl'We go to one of his dad's hotel rooms. Is this where his dad's ho does...what she does for a living. A dirty hotel full of boots, heels, scandalous dresses and a dust smell of cigarettes. Mike throws his suede coat down on rhe warm comforter. Lers me sit on it with him. We smoke. The only thing on the TV is porn. Me-"haha Instead of having WTTW Sesame Srreer on, there's free porn? Jay-"Yeah, haha T.C. that how ir is in the ghettol'

Above the TV is a large dirry mirror. I see my pathetic reflection. My eyes are red. I dont look at fly as I had thought. I cant believe I'm here. With a real prostitute, smokin, When we passed it around her lips touched it too, if I get an STD I'm gonna get so mad. My hands are cold. Why am I herei Mike shouldnt have invited me. He always gets me in these situations. I text Mike- I WANNA GO HOME-

We go to pick up another one of Georget hoes. Go the wrong way down a one way street. Street cameras are everywhere, Everywhere, Go 65 down a 30 MPH srreer. The young ho jumps in the back with me and Mike. I smile. Offer her fruit snacks. She accepts. I wonder if those fruit snacks remind her of her childhood. If she wishes she could go back there, get back her porenrial, her innocence. But maybe she didnt have a good childhood. Maybe shet trying to forget all of it. I digress.

Jay says'aight guys I'm funna drop yall in OP, then I'm gonna check some bud out from a buddy of minel'I graciously say,"yeah, Ok. Okj'

Theresa Cantafio

you told me that she broke your heart and i wanted to let you make your point so i hid in tired words, put feet to dashboard knowing in the cold there is no conscience frustration leaks out at 2 a,m, car rides where best friends'kisses claim"i love you" and redly ask,"who are youi" i watched you pretend i was important to you touched ring 6nger to water-glazed window and wrote initials in aheart for rwo at the last meecing place i open back door to back porch and remember your lips tasted like cigarettes and your lies sounded right still, i dont care that she is hurt, and dont mind that you arejust trying to forget. i brush it all off 6nd the moment in my memory when i stopped caring for all feeling and let her tears sting that place in my heart where i should feel guilt Maggy Kucera

and insteadfeel nothing. you tell me to lie to her face, saying it could be simple asking me to forget locked doors like a daydream admitting my free secrets could never replace her earned ones i know i meant to say'this isnt okay'' now wondering when you'll remember, i was trying to be everything you wanted. i scratch at secrets i promised to keep sad, because i cant believe my own weak confessions i call her saying"I m sorry, but there's nothing left to explain' i guess i broke her heart for you.

She walked through life

In constant pain

Like days and days Of unending rain

The pain...like a knife Was deep inside her Everyday worse, everyday stronger She faced death And death looked dark Its eyes penetrated as fierce as a shark But now it's gone her pain is over her life can continue God sent her a donor

Le Miracle

Elle vivant sa vie En douleur constante Desjours et desjours De pluies interminables f,a doleur,,,comme un couteau Profond dans sa chair Et chaquejour empire Et chaquejour plus forte

Elle regardait la mort en face Et la mort etait somber Ses yeux penetrant Comme un requin percent Mais maintenant c'est 6ni Sa douleur n'est plus Sa vie peut continuer Grace a un doneur de Dieu

Yasmine Yala

Transformations from Windy City

[Is There a] Striking Line [Here] (?)

He was my best friend, an LA laid back, fat under the sun at the beach rype a brotha. Moved from the ciry of angels. Now his red hat lay dormant, replaced with white and black, in a place where Angels get blown away like birthday candles.

If the words sound nice.,, Like the sounds of a heart

beating each pace of our lives.

He started off cool, working two part-time jobs to support the fam. Problems hit him every which way like the ammunirion ofa 6ring squad, It started with a black and mild, Burned into a cigarette, and stirred into a crack pipe. His life smoked up like the Great Fire, His ashes smeared into my regrets, He prays Chicago winds might blow him back to LA, where his angels can carry him back to the beach.

As a race to the tempo of conciousness. Falling like that thought from the sky so that you know that it will be good. As good as the freeing words for the oppressed.

The drops that freshen the desert of your imagination, The braces that pull your teeth back to the realiry of elegance. Such as the epiphany of the protagonist over the forces ofevil, A gift of the master. Ideas running faster A revelation passes from a pandemonium to just simple words.

One atom crushed trillions exploded. The fortiude of self as constant as it will be spring. The line as striking as thejuices ofripe fruits. The line as striking as the catalysts ofpeace/war ,..does it matter if they do not accually mean anything, Peter Hogenson

William Hardiman

o

The Sick Three

My eyes open. I sit up, yawning. My hair and skin are matted with dirt, and my clothes have taken a matching dried-mud hue. A daredevil crew of ants is investigating the organic landscape with appeared so mysteriously overnight, traversing feshy should-beimpasses with miniature bravado. I flick them back into the grass and get up, stumbling over to try the front door just in case my ma got a change ofheart overnight. I m hungry is the thing, I wouldnt bother otherwise. It's still locked though.

I notice there's kids walking by towards school, so I 6gure I might as well head over too. They glance a t me but only real quick, they're scared I'll see them looking, and rhen they walk a bit faster. Maybe their arms start chugging away like gears, and their clammy hands clutch at their backpack straps for reassurance or something, as they casually fast-walk the hell away. Used to be I liked that a lot, I got a real kick out of it.

I ache all over as I walk to school. I'm tired of 6ghting. It was a reason to wake up but it's turning into a monotonous nothing now, and it's ^ pretty nasry feeling when your reason to wake up disappears. It wasjust a cheap thrill really, and I built up a tolerance. Breaking faces doesnt feel right anymore - and thar's not to say I was overpowering anyone, I'm cut up pretty bad even now and littered with more careless bruises than anyone you know. Anyway, I've drained all my bad blood, and some of the regular kind too. I'm still meeting up withJohnny Handshake though. We can still piss around, even if it's half-hearted, maybe get something to eat.

Today he's by the 6elds. I can see him leaning on a soccer goal shooting toppled pillars of smoke into the aic and I limp over. We smoke rhere for a little bit, ficking our cigarette butts at the pinpricks

flooding through the front doors and watching them fall short a couple yards away. They help my hunger, at least.

"Someone walking overi' says Johnny after a whilg a real minimalist. I can see the hulking silhouette undulating rhythmically in the morning sun, approaching from the opposite the school. We just laze around, waiting. Finally he stops right in front of us, a big black monster of a kid, wearing a black coat and an I'm-going-to-ki11-you-face. Maybe that's just his face, though. I've lost my motivation, like I said, but I glance atJohnny and het shaking itching for the challenge. Angry Face speaks uP.

"Smoke weed?" He asks. He open up his coat like a pair of dingy black wings, showing offdozens of dime bags pinned to the inside. So he must've been on his way to school to sell, I shake my head dismissively.

Thar's not whatJohnny does. He walks right up to the kid, an inch away, even though he's a head shorter. He reaches up and ficks his still glowing cigarette, real deliberate-like, right in his face.

"Don't want you weed, dickhead," he snarls. A real minimalist, Theret a stop ofash on ths kidt face, and he's pissed. You can tell he isnt the kind to let offa guy likeJohnny, he's the kind to pound the will to live out of him. Justlike that, another one's begun. He swings hars, andJohnny dodges, abeady grinning euphorically. Hed got what he wanted,

"What the hell, man, it's too earlyi'I complain loudly, but he ignores me. I stand aside and watch, tense and frowning,Johnny is faster, a lot faster, hes dodging and dealing blows in rapid furious spatters, but in a slip second his head snaps backward as angry Face connects with it and het crouching down holding his face. He leaps up again after a

r;;:i?t::?11.*:#:l:ill;;ffi,I;l;I:;:i;"., ffi#1r-,#;lll;:r"?,ri::l;:;::ll5ar"rike'che

Im'l#'r'":Yu:::*1"'; #:,t:'":.$;:.:i:i'55:i;:',r "1"'"'' 'o'-ry "'"" vou arrigh'ri"roh""-v do""'t know what to i, i,, o,i" hit, sending a cemenr btock 6st straighiatJohnnyr jaw.Johnny l":,il;*r:['3;:"i;r"ii*I3]"?::"J:;l:i13,.1,""rr,:r'lT,*, ducks underneath it - and its like this next bit happens in slow motion. shot his rongue out ofhis mouth, he doesnt seem nearly ", ,.i.y. tt. He grabs onto his opponentt head with both hands, who's sdll lurching tries to ,p""t, b.r, apparently rhat got a lor harder tause he talk nonsense forward with freight train momentum, and uses it to propel himself up. fo, -nyb" ,"r, ,".orrJ., get a confused look on his face, and bursrs into o He fies up into the air ef[ortlessly, and sends renewed., more vigorous weeping. Me and o\ hiskneehurtlingintothepoorkid'sjaw. "Thefe'S a SiCkgning Cfagk aS Johnnybothwinc-er,dgl"r."al"".horh", o 3:::::.^Y::'..'":l',i::T:::lT*::,,-- bone coilides with Eone, and ,*k*"'drv.. wrtnDone'anosometnlngsollonlesrnrougn ^-,-- - rr- 2-^- -^r: -r tl2^- *t^--^--^t- "Shouldwetakehimtothe N theair,aswellasaspurrofred.Theyboth something solid flies through schooli,,;ffi;;;butbeforercan collapseinaheap. the air, as well as a sPurt of answerthekiddoes,shakinghishead

Bloody old blood. I try to imagine l.r, ' ,pastically and motioning r. hi, coat. The the taste in my mouth for a second. A chunk feo"' weed. The tongue left in his mouth is "o of tongue is steaming in the grass, glistening and red. I can hear my 6fth starting to bleed pre*y bad, so I getJohnnyio giu" him his shirt, mine o grade teacher speaking. The front of your tongue is where you taste sweet b"irrg irty ,.rd ,il, and soon hi, Io,g.,", *rrpf"d up all fancy and his o things, she's saying. I wonder if blood tastes sweet. Angry Face wouldnt -orrih i, clogged by the shirt, llke hed eaten a Sikh Lut with the Up of c'r know, which makes me feel kind of queasy. the.rrrbrr, ,t]ll left to go.

Johnny Handshake has come to his senses, and he's crouching ,,We would take him back to your,,, I say toJohnny. o il:Jl;Stli?;mnl$,**fx;ffi1"1,""..:!'[ff

brother was a sweet kid but a real idiot, and he was taking fuIl swings on anyway,there,s no one else to boiir", ,r. ,t yo.rrri,His mom works all day, every shot and my sister was giggling watching and leaning in real close. and his only brother is in jail. He gives in, the., adds, Inevitably, it happened that he got her with his putter, right in the face ,,Guess -" .ho,ridrrr t"kJ hl, stuffthoughl,He,s grinning. swinging as hard as he could. It was on accident, but the putter gashed a .,Shur up,Johnny.,, I turn to th" -".r.,,ii.k ,,p yJ,., ,o,g,.", spoonful of cut-eight-year-old-girl forehead clear away, blood spilling out man, we,ll get yor, 6*"d upl,The kid sits up obediently, .o-pl"t"l!

o

subdued by the 6ght, and wipes his tears sheepishly. He grabs his tongue chunk and tenderly brushes offsome of the dirt and blood, then drops itinto one ofhis coat pockets. Finally, he gets up.

We make our way towardsJohnny's place without a word. The only sounds are aherd of far-offsirens and the painful cries my stomach lining emits as itt slowly digested. We pass Ellat old house with the one boarded up window, and the Seven ElevenJohnny's brother held up last month for forty bucks. Less than the gun lost, he used to complain, until he got put away for it.

An hour later wdre sitting on a couch smoking a blunt, the big kid too, we got rid of the turban and he washed his mouth out and we got a bandage for him to use instead. Anyway, we figured buying some weed of f him after allwas the least we could do. He still cant talk, but we get some paper for him to write on, and his name is Little Percy, either that or het amusing himself. Will his tongue grow back, he writes in first-grade English, and we both nod to reassure him even though we have no idea. You're alright, we tell Little Percy, and apologize pretty profusely. He shrugs it offand counts the bills he earred, takinga grad from the blunt.

I can finally get some food so I head over to the kitchen and grabs much as I can carry, We eat in silence.'Your cheesy puffs are delishiss' writes Little Percy politely, chewing carefully.

Someone is shouting and banging on the front door pretry loud, shaking us from our reveries. I look uneasily atJohnny. We're all in a formidable stupor, but he gets up eventually and goes to the front, peering through the spy hole. He stands there in disbelief, Then he opens the door. A skinny guy with a handle-bar moustache walks in and straight past us.

"Hey,kidi'he says to me as he passes. I just stare.Johnny

shouts to him as he dives into his old room.

"What the hell are you doing here? You dont get out for another yeart" A minute larer he steps out again, slipping his gun into his belt.

"Cant explain right now. I got out prety slick, but they'll come here eventually... You stole all my money, didnt youJohnnyi I'd beat your face in if I had timel' Then he looks at Lirtle Percy, who is rweaking absolute balls. "Who s this i"

"I chopped his tongue ofl'Johnny explains. Little Percy fetches the severed end from his pocket and holds it up.

"Woah man, let me see that... what's he sitting around here fori You should get him to a hospital, like, nowl'Weve got no way of getting to a hospital.Johnny though,hds crazy.

"Can you take usi" His brother ponders the question for a moment, looking up at the ceiling and twiddling his nose hairs. Then he turns back toJohnny.

"I guess so. Could use the company. We gotta get across a border before I take you guys, thoughl'For some reason, this is okay with Johnny. Little Percy too, but I guess hejust wants his tongue back on. They both nod their agreement. I peek through the window at the road, where a white Cadillac I've never seen before is idling. A stolen cat wirh an escaped convict, across a state border, in search of a hospital. Whatever though, I mean, hell, I was bored this morning.

"Let's gol'I say, getting up. Little Percy gets up too, leaving an indelible ass crater in the couch, andJohnny runs to his room to grab some cash. We head outside and pile into the car, which shudders as Little Percy crams himself into the back. When we're all seated, Johnnyt brother turns to each of us, grinning stupidly. Then he hits the acceleration, and we're off.

Tim Knowlton

Tbrrell Eldorado Owens

Born to tell a story

One with hidden adversiry

One with deceiving glory

Sleeping on cash fow Never mind his soul

In his head defeat has no meaning Wants to know hei in control Destined ro put on a show

A cancer

Calls himself"T.O]

Hands never more soft

Ego never more solid

Monday Night shows his lighming-quick speed

SportsCenter reporting on his greed

Always one catch short, one game away Post game tears

Media never swayed

With no consistency afoat, Tony Romo equals scaPegoat

Not a ciry to call his home Prides himself on walking alone

60 Minutes says his childhood was only bad

The best excuse het ever had Not his fault

Superstar wide-receiver Cocky by default, Lets his words fy Controversy all it brings As a result, count'em.., No Super-Bowl rings

Nick Chudoba

o

Untitled

He was a Cambodian swimming team The extravagant black sheep of free thinking You expected the unexpected never ro happen The court took away his freedom, only one day it will give it back his coat smelled like the sreets of Tijuana even the day after he went to court that day the bookshelf told him,"Fermalo!" he didnt care what the bookshelfhad to say his skin was also unpredictable one night he felt one hundred tiny spiders nibbling on his skin his room was painted by a friend's brorher he left as fast as he could like a baby turtle running to the ocean John went to Illinois State, you could smell how many clothes he brought with all the clothes in the world couldnt satisfy his, so he phoned home

"Toss me some sprinklesl" he asked Noaschaef "What you talkin about Willisi" I would say he didn't feel like talking so he ended rransmission his dorm's view had as many parking lots as Costco has free samples

he never got his freedom from the court he had more shirts than MichaelJackson nose-jobs one of his shirts had 24 differcnt red coasters on rhe bomom of it Sophomore year he raded in the warmth of the dorm for the Frat and a botle ofliquid courage every Tuesday he drank with his Frat friends: 32 car's of beer.,,each after the 31st beer the birds sounded like bees and versa-vice next morning he woke up because he was tired and the screeching bed didnt help best advice was from an inanimate object

Schaeffer

Noah

o

-l ) o o ts

U] o

The Buffoon

There once was a little house at the edge of avillage where the chimney smoke rose on the pinhead ofJanuary and twirled its way into everyone's nostrils. I smelt of auburn and of steel blood, but the smell was so imperceptible that when ic reached the villagers, they gave only the slightest tremble to their hands, And the trembles were never the more, yet they were still more than never. With time, the tremors butterflied into shakes and the shakes multiplied to quakes. The people in the surrounding villages began to notice the strangeness of the town and cried, "Oh mercy, we have never seen such sufferingl"

The good people of the nearby towns brought salts and concoctions to help their neighbors, but were rejectedby a disgusting and old buffoon.

"We dont need your help, we can help ourselves. You will bring tyranny upon our village and you will pillage our houses and rape our daughtersl"

Again and again, the good people tried to bring baskets of medicine, and yet each time, the buffoon repeated his words and shambled away, cursing their kindness. He would then saunter back to his house, back to his wife and daughter, and grumble about how

the world has lost its warmth After doing so, he would try to compensate for the defect by igniting the frrepl.ace in his home and kindling from the neighboring forest, Yet, no matter how roaring was the 6re, the buffoon still felt like a million toothpicks nipping at his skin. He fed more and more branches into the 6re, and the

smell of blood became so pungent, that it coagulated to form a steel slab. Yet...he was still cold.

He began chopping down entire trees from the forest to keep an eternal frre that burned from twilight to death. It was not

difficult work to shop them down, for the trees were brittle with tradidon. They had risen from the dirt that had held Birmingham shells andJim Crowe foot tracks and had seen generations of change pass since then. Their prime was over; the old soil had eroded with a sundry of blood and water as they struggled to keep a humble orphanage of leaves in the new soil. Most villagers had realized that the trees in the forest were so brittle that they were good for nothing. Most of them had decided to allow the forest to expire and decay, that is...most, except for the buffoon.

The buf[oon became engrossed in the vigor of his 6re

"They had risen from the dirt that had held Birmingham shells and |im Crowe foot tracks..."

and stood by every hour ofthe day,feedingit pieces offorest on the hour.

Soon, the entire village was covered in mesh smog from the buffoon's chimney that whittled minds and soured stomachs. The buffoon's wife and daughter had left him long ago; they were unable to stand the heat of the house and the smell of the smoke.

Months passed and the forest was diminished to its last few maples. However, the ground that the trees used to cover was still as shaded as ever from the smog that broadened across the sky. As the last tree came tumbling down, the crash was ensued by a sweet silence. A callous wind blew from the north across the once crowded plains and straight through the door of the old buffoon. It hugged the 6re and squeezed its limbs towards the sky. The fire responded with a last effort to break free and burst through the chimney like a bullet through a rifle' Then, it lurched across the smog-Glled sky and enveloped the entire village in loving licks of pain. The good people of the surrounding villages hopped on their horses and race towards the blazing town with buckets of water and hesitant hearts, But, by the time that they arrived, the village had already almost wholly disintegrated inro ashes. Everything excePt for the buffoon, who was found face down amidst the ashes, an axe by his side, and still crystalline cold.

lingyi Liu

My English Class

Watching people moving sly as shadows

To the top of the teetering mountain That is the front of the class.

Quiet faces suddenly bursting into smiles

The tension is broken' The loudest kids become timid, Little mice while wallflowers Explode into excited, exuberant poers.

Words fow out our minds

To our mouths, and become Spikes that pierce deep and make us look Into our hearts for the emotions we forgot'

I sit and watch as dark memories and Bright times are revealed to show that We're actually not so different after all. We are the great wonders of the world, we are My English class.

Armani Akines

o

Selena Gordon, Her name sruck with Tito that ".t:t^ c^*,^-^L^,,', night. He parted the middle of the altey with his short steps. ;[';fi[:::f r. a man hotding a Cuban cigar. with He adjusted to his walk; the odd way his legs shifted after the his other hand, the rian motioned for him ro.o*" his way. He accident bothered him. After leaving the pharmacy, he chose not walked slowly past the stiffpeople. on the table sat ahear:tlturkey. to walk down the side streets; it would take him longer with that Lying on its back, the faceless .hirg g*u" him shivers. It haj a golden route. His eyes were concenrrared on the cloudy 6lm of hear chat hue to it like a mortician 6xed it ";.-Th" glass tray was adorned exited his mouth. Inside his pockets, his long fingers fumbled with steamed vegetables. A .rrk"t, Tito t[ought to himself. When around. The sound of rhe pain pill rattled with his steps. he approached his"uncle, he mad.e sure his The alley's gravel was covered in asrightrrost.rito!t".;;;"J,r,"p".r, "The aftertaste of p_aint ;[:fi:Tffil[:,ff#1il1i.*1 under his feet as he made ir to the end.of SaVOfed hiS tOngqe. It 147aS to speak. the alley, Once his rorn sneakers crunched ro a srop, he coutd,""

",'iffii;i:fl[ coglr- like-the Presence of a , "How va holdin up kidi"rhe crisp leaveoutofthesidewindowofa.bungatow spirit lurked Lefore him." :.:H:il?loweredhisevestothe home to his right. His eyes gazed into ,Alright. Coold be better,,,Tiro stuffed the soft yellow light of the window Shadows of people moved his hands into his pockets. His head rolled around as if trying to around. The white line found itself into Tito's nose. Cigars. work the kinks oui. Passing the fronr door, he traveled to the back of rhe house where the smeu of sweer poraroes lingered in November " o,o *n,rllIlrnruxIfffr1[?:J;*illr;T.:*:: air. He knew better than to go through rhe fronc door. His long th. .c.oggiirg woman. Gngers meshed into the meral screen ofthe back door to push itTito piuot"d on his broken in shoes and grabbed rhe fat open. The feeling reminded him of a new mattress. The kitchen turkey by the handle s of its platter. His aunt looked at him with wide was packed. Wine glasses 611ed everyonet hands. Looking in the - eyes; pupils thar looked like they would hug him with pity. He could corner, Tito automatically scoped his uncle's shiny dress shirt and feel rhe rt"rm ,ir" to his upper lip ard leave a 6lm of ,*""r. His thin pressed slacks, Quickly, his aunt rrotted past him in her short arms srarred to shake r,,or" thr. hi, legs did once he made it ro the heels and tan panry hose. The smell of her light perfume stuck to dining room. Dapper dressed gu"rt. lolok.d at the teenager place rhe him. He watched her sway into the orher room carrying a silver food on the dinner table. Theil [ps became tight. Tito k"pt ^hl, h""d platter of som e fancy snack food' lowered toward,s the ground ,rrd ,r"u". look"J.rp.

There was a boy with a black pea coat posted in the corner of the room. His back sank in the indent of rhe walls and his arms were folded loosely against his chest. Tito instantly recognized him. The boyt right eye was opened wide and the left was half way shut trying to 6gure him out. Tito remembered him from the funeral. The boy stared hard at Tito and nodded his head as ifpaying his respects. As Tito's buckled walk traveled past to make way to the kitchen, he could feel the room breath.

There were stairs on the other side of the kitchen' Dodging looks from the guests, Tito sulked up the short fight of stairs to the second foor. The pain in his back moved down to his deformed legs. Filling his nostrils with the strong smell of house hold sprays, he followed his way down the hallway. All of the bedroom doors were open except for the one to the right. He pushed it open, The aftertaste of paint savored his tongue, It was cool; like the Presence of a spirit lurked before him.

The room was dark, except for the occasional headlight from passing cars beaming inside. The thick frost laminated the window like stained glass. His hand fumbled around for the light switch. He found it, but it did not turn the floor lamp on. Tito fipped it on and ofi and nociced there was no light bulb in the source' He made his way across the wooden foor while removing his flimsyjacket' He noticed the frgure of a suitjacket and slacks on a wooden hanger against his wall. A pair of black dress shoes were peeking from under the silhouecte of the clothing and mocking his feet. The sheets on the bed held the warmth of a dryer. The aroma of fabric softener tingled his nose. He sat down on the firm mattress and adjusted his eyes to the stolen light. The opening of his palm glided across the cold glass. He swept the collection of ice into his other hand and threw it onto the floor, He continued to do this until the window was clean. Outside

was a lonely streedamp that provided the amount of light that a frre fly would give. The snowy substance left a puddle of water sitting on the side ofhis bed.

The room was the shape of a cofEn. It was still new to Tito. He rolled to the other end of his bed and flipped open a cardboard box' Inside were only a few things. With both of his hands he grabbed a thick candle he packed from his old home. He stood up to walk to the giant mirror of a used dresser, In the middle of its scratched surface, he placed rhe waxy light source. His left hand made way into his denim pocket to grab a cheap lighter. He lit the short wick and watched orange light lift towards the ceiling. The lavender scent of his mother fell over the room and demolished the paint stench.

In the mirror, Tito turned his cheek sideways. The fickering fire cast a shadow over his brown skin, The scar was still healing' The accident left him with an ugly gash from his ear to his nose. He allowed his index 6nger to run down the wound. He didnc flinch this time. It didnt hurt anymore.

The sound of heavy feet foated down the hallway. He saw his uncle's plump body make way into the room. From the mirror, he could see the tall man gape at him.

"You hungry, boyi"

He cut his eyes at his uncle's hand holding a plate of food. The candle filled Tito's stomach.

"No sir," his words sounded louder than he meant for them to be.

"Theret some light bulbs in the top draweri'his uncle suggested. Tito reached into the drawer and pulled out glass bulbs. He didn't give a thank you. Ignoring his presence, he screwed the bulb in the empty lamp. He left the light offand sat down on his bed.

His uncle switched the light on and made himself at home in the tiny room. Setting the full plate of food next to the candle, his lips blew

the 6re out. His full eyes bounced across the room.

"You didnr do much with rhe placei'his said jokingly. His lips rolled into a slender grin; one like his morher used to make.

Tito followed his eyes as he checked our rhe place. He wenr back to the cardboard box. Searching around rhe contenrs, he pulled our a rhin pamphlet. A picture of a woman on the cover caught his eyes,

In Loving Memory of Selena Gordon, Tito scanned the cover that had a phoro of the young woman. His hand lured him ro rhe dresser to place the obituary over the mirror. He slipped ir under the crevice of o the wood so it would stay in place. IT gave Tito a headache to come across -j theimage.ITwasthememory ofher facecollidingwithacarwindshield j- that bothered him. He could still feel his legs trapped under the glove - department. His body didnt move ar rhe sound of his uncle's voice.

"You miss ya mama dont youi" The voice of the large man was a O miniature whisper.

Untitled

H

Nodding his head, Tito turned around ro ger a good look of his - unclet face oozrngthe look ofan apology," I dont blame her for norhingi'Tico looked his uncle in the eyes + for the first time. o

" Ya auntie wants ro make you feel at homei'he said ignoring Tito's statement.

"I dont need nobody to feel sorry for mej'Tito made himself clear. The weight of his fists became like stones on the side of his shaking legs. His eyes squinted at rhe large man,

At the boom of Tito's voice, his uncle left rhe room, Looking around for where he set his jacket, he pulled the pain pills from his worn pocket. His body collapsed againsr the side of the matrress. He thoughr of Thanksgiving without his mother. His eyes srared at the plare of food his uncle laid to rest on the dresser.

isia Calcagno

Rows Tattoos Stench Tall stacks, Carried loved ones into the air. Families tallied offlike items On a list.

Hannah Kessy

Unwanted lnfatuations

After my 6rst love shipwrecked, Infatuations crumbled like Roman streets crushing the empire that was my internal organ located in the center of upper torso, I Openly closed hatch to where my neck ended, not time to remind cut rope upholstering a relationship, 'hever let them get in your head son' my mother told me. Always responded boldly, never let others slip through the cracks and fold me, never loathe the untruthful, I loved her. But I never wanted to. Played her offlike a friend and every time she said my name I couldni help but cringe.

In my mind I absolutely feared her. Hijacking my intellect, she made me observe reflection that I never knew existed. A professional thief.

She bypassed front door, shimmied up fire escape, crawled through side window, only to rob me of aspirations to ever 6nd love again, William Hardiman

Reality

made me cry today.

Letters clutched like dying wish, no life before this.

Caroline Wood

Images by Michelle Brewer

a a a a a a a a a i a I a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a

Abby Stegner has the gold medal in luge.

Adrian Secter is an old-timey prospector.

Adriana Gorre is inspired by everyone and everything.

Alex lanowski has never made highlighters look so fine (point).

Alex Tilik is semper paratus.

Amber Lara is atype of aggressive free-willed, protecive superstar.

Amber Williams is snap, crackle, pop!

Amy Gullo is straight up like a cup, down like a frown.

Anna Hullinger is searching for the original gourmetjelly bean.

Ariel Vincent loves marching band, musicals, band, badminton, her friends, and her family,

Armani Akines is sharply dressed.

Asia Calcagno islegit.

Bella Kimrey didit realize her poem was that awesome.

Brandon Daniels lives in Nepal.

Bridget Reinhardpaints the town red!

Caitlin Fallahay is laughing on the inside as she completely fills out her geometry notebook.

Chris Daois brings it all back to American Gangster.

Claire Bunschoten has an infectious enrhusiasm for nonsensical things,

Claire Reynes gets the conversation going.

Connor Stratton is feelin groovy.

Delia Puckett is a radiant lookin -ass.

Donaaan lones is the Lord of the Manor, rhe Sultan, theLiege!

Drean Linne is sweet-potato blue.

Dylan Piazza says not too much poison then you get. e dead clown on your hands, it's useless!

Ekein Agboola comes from a long line of excellent dancers.

Eleanor Trenary is channeling her own spirit and would like to thank Ellen Drews for encouraging her to submit to Crest.

Elina Berzins is a fantastically dressed, yearbook-sawy artiste.

Ellen Lesser hates the way drivers never look at the road in old American movies.

Ellie Ericksott is a well-rounded son of a gun.

Emma Benchell cares.

Eaan Twitchell is vertically gifted.

Grace Fondow plans to major in Creative Writing in college and intends to--someday--be a published author ofnovels, short stories, and poetry

Hannah Kessy blows our mind.

lack Hale is a hero but still this world's pariah. A poet, but still a mute jester. He's said to be quite the sight, but still nothing to make note of, Wait...who are we talking about again?

famael Clark says it with style and the sting of truth.

fames Hanley beware of seals.

lane Alice Dematee is a Disney Princess.

fanee Timms kicks Red Man ass.

fazmine Renzulli found a whole new world.

lessica Conti enjoys long walks on the beach and peanut butter.

lingyi Liu wonders if wallflowers grow after the rain.

f oanna Eaans has entered the building,

lon Barber is Nick Adams and Holden Caulfield's literary offspring.

f ordan Gamble fires up our hearts.

lulia Gordon isreali.

Kat Carillo is lemony fresh.

Keenan Smith is still new at this writing stuff, He enjoys living the life of a rebel, and setting things on fire (SCOOP DUNKI)

Kelly Reuter has a dog named Maya.

Kendall Polk is offthe wall.

Kendell Welch makes some damn good grape juice.

Kerstin Larson would totally dominate K-Schwo in arapbattle any day, Keain Sloan is not a docta.

Kettona Belcher thinks anyone has the power to do anythingthey wish to achieve.

Kris MuruaU runs a tight ship.

Liz Beard is a sleeping mouse who enjoys lying in the grass, biting straws, and silently laughing.

Lizzi Haptonstahl usedto rock the bodi glitter.

Luke Kahn didnt get a haircut, he got them all cut.

M a d eline deRe gnier pamplemousse.

Maggie Schurr is only h"ppy in the sun.

Maggie Weinstein is classy.

MagW Kucera is Informer, you know say daddy me snow me a-gonna blame,licky boom-boom down.

Maricel Caro is a shoulder to lean on.

Mait Loztaas is the Ellen Degeneres to our Albert Brooks.

Mia Salamofl€ is a mystery woman.

Michelle Black is a great person if you get to know her. She has been through a lot in her four years of high school. Shet looking forward to her life after high school.

Michelle Brewer wears the pants in our relationship.

Mike ktanoaic is bubbling over with ecstasy.

Miles Gillenzaater is too cool for meditation.

Missy Gaskill is a certified ninja who never leaves the house without her samurai sword.

Monique Hurst knows you need unique Monique.

Nick Beebe Hey Nick! What's up Nicki

Nick Chudoba kicked chubva.

Nick Ellman isnt much of a writer but he's h"ppy to be here. Thanks Zabransky!

Noah Schaeffer is indescribably excellent.

P.l. Brennan is foul-mouthed.

Paul Deziel is psyched to be apart of CREST, and hed like to thank Emily Smith for literary advice and Mr. Goldberg for inspiration (Philosophy).

Paul Lenbird FiersonDaniel Day Lews.

Peter Hogenson was bornJuly 6, L993, Even by age five he showed great promise in not becoming a poet. Then came sophomore English...

Philip Sparks is the change we can believe in.

Rebecca Gordon wants to dedicate her poem to the Band of Married Men who live in the Tropics of Germany with Ariel and her brother.

Rebecca f ohnson drops it like its hot.

S am anth a M a ddel a oblongata.

Sarah Anderson laughs at herself every day,has ridiculous videos on youtube, and spends mosr of her time with her best friend doing nothing, but makes it everything.

Teresa Deziel ts aballerizzina.

Theresa Cantafio has fy kicks.

Tim Foley is a cartoon.

Tim Knowlton wrote the'time as a loop" theory.

Tracy Ewert hopes to become, like most great poets, dead & buried somewhere in England.

Van Palmer Wittekind is the coolest person you will ever meet. You just dont know it yet.

William Hardiman is a fly, swaggeriffic,luvinlindividual who intends to enjoy life to its fullest. He has a general like for everyone and goes out of his way to commence random acts of kindness.

Yasmine Yala rs from Algeria.

Zach Durbin is"its Friday and oh god it happened againl'

Caroline Wood is one with her viola, thoroughly Thoreau, and girlfriend loves her art.

----o Maranna Yoder tells it like it is, rocks the newsboy look, and is worth every dairy-free gift we make.

Ellen Dreuts has the heart of Dixie but the attitude of a Korean rapper. With her concept maps and calendars, she has brought inspiratiory organization, (and sexy) back. Banjo, anyone?

Nicky Fish is the Jane in our Bennet Family: a true romantic with naturally fab hair. We hope to see her in the next Winter Olympics, but in the meantime we appreciate her computer knowhow.

Isabel Firpo would never get pimp-slapped by a sycamore-she would f-- it up first. She is the mitochondria of the Crest cell, and should be paid overtime in dark chocolate and empanadas.

Lilly McGee is the object of our secret crush. She'll one day have her own TV show - Look out, Oprah, a Star is born!

Rachel White is the incarnation of Faulkner's Lena. She is Earth, Wind, and Fire, our equilibrium, and her maternal instinct is breathtaking.

Richard Zabransky corrals us into mid-meeting jam sessions. He's a world-class readel, poet, and an appreciator of naps.

Done with your Crest? Don't throra it out!

LJse Crest to.,.

SAVETHEWORLDI

Invest in it (it's better than a 401K)

Use it as a down payment on some real estate

Fashion it into a solar panel

Use it as collateral with Somali pirates (we hear they have a thing for modernist poetry)

Export it to Cuba Make levies out of it

Throw it at world leaders (they say literaryjournals are the new shoes)

Make a blanket to insulate the polar ice caps

Keep it away from Rod Blagojevich (as much as we love poeffy,we appreciate straight answers, Rod,)

Use the cellulose in the paper to power your hybrid vehicle Sruffit in the walls to insulate your house.

Burn it to reduce your heating bill

Save money on bran by adding Crest to your cereal for 6ber.

...or you could just recycle it. Tbe rainforest thanks you,