WINDOWPANES FALL ISSUE
I no longer see the difference between waiting and simply being. Do I choose to stay?
Can a stone choose to remain a stone? Can the moth affect its trajectory toward the flame?
When I awoke, Vladimir was already talking. He is always talking. Words pour from him like blood from a deadly wound. and maybe that's what they are, these endless explanations, these theories about Godot.
Without me, who would he explain things to?
I am his audience and his proof that he exists. And he is mine. We are each other's only evidence that this is real.
I am, therefore I suffer. The tree does not suffer. Only we do.
Godot will not come. I have always known this. I think Vladimir knows it too, beneath the jibber jabber, beneath the certainty he carries like a bag of sand slowly weighing down his back.
We invented Godot the way a stranded pirate invents the shore he cannot see. just upon the horizon. a few more miles of sailing. a few more hours of waiting.
Aydan Martin ‘26
Hannon, Carlo Tesen ‘26
“Sí, se peude”, Kurt Romero ‘26
The Giant The Giant
TheKaprewalkedthroughtheforestgreen Underneaththetreesandfoliageunseen.
TheKaprewalkedthroughtheforestgreen Underneaththetreesandfoliageunseen.
Forhe’stravelingtoaplacethatmanyhaveseen Yetnooneseemstoknow.
Forhe’stravelingtoaplacethatmanyhaveseen Yetnooneseemstoknow.
Withhiscigar’ssmokefloatinguptothesky Andthebeginningsofwakingfireflies.
Withhiscigar’ssmokefloatinguptothesky Andthebeginningsofwakingfireflies.
Thegiantfindshisfavoritespotup,upabove. Beneaththeshadeofathousandleaves, heclimbs. andclimbs andclimbs.
Thegiantfindshisfavoritespotup,upabove. Beneaththeshadeofathousandleaves,
heclimbs. andclimbs andclimbs.
Branchafterbranch,vineaftervine Untilhefindsit.
Branchafterbranch,vineaftervine
Untilhefindsit.
TheKapresitsonthebranchoftheBateletree, Lookingouttoaworldthat'sbeautifulandfree.
TheKapresitsonthebranchoftheBateletree, Lookingouttoaworldthat'sbeautifulandfree.
Forhelooksoutintothedistanceovertheworlds forest,oceans,deserts Andrelaxesknowingthisiswhereheismeanttobe.
Forhelooksoutintothedistanceovertheworlds forest,oceans,deserts Andrelaxesknowingthisiswhereheismeanttobe.
Aiden Z. Willete Aiden Z. Willete
Desire, Ignatius Doherty ‘26
Untitled, Noah Garcia ‘27
Untitled, Noah Holmes ‘28
Solitude
Above The Clouds, Jack Newall ‘26
Above The Clouds Above The Clouds, Jack Newall ‘26 , Jack Newall ‘26
I’m seated on a hill of thoughts
Left to me by those close in mind,
Yet so far in time.
Neither by choice.
I’m seated on a hill of thoughts
Buried under me I’m alone now
Atop another hill, my friend lies, buried in text.
Atop another, my friend ignores the stars, gazing beyond.
We’re seated on hills of thought
Curled up, larvae, fetuses
Our daily ritual, roll down, meet at the bottom.
Yes. We are meant to be together.
So why, when we hatch, do we crawl away, walk away, die away, Up top our perch where it’s safe?
Khanna ‘27
Suvir
Focused, Lucas Almanzan Hunter ‘28
The Alien Industry The Alien Industry The Alien Industry
The land that man had journeyed on foot has become barren; Scarcely walked by rhymers and recorders throughout, The shore has been stricken with a fearsome drought.
The land that man had journeyed on foot has become barren; Scarcely walked by rhymers and recorders throughout, The shore has been stricken with a fearsome drought.
That thing usurped its life, the industrial baron.
That thing usurped its life, the industrial baron.
“Why go on foot when He can do it for you?”
“Why go on foot when He can do it for you?”
Says such fools who are drunken with the fictitious dew; The land appears full, but that is mere stolen valor,
Says such fools who are drunken with the fictitious dew;
The land appears full, but that is mere stolen valor,
A mere imitation of man ’ s creative might
A mere imitation of man ’ s creative might
The industrial baron fails to reach thy primal light.
The industrial baron fails to reach thy primal light.
No machine can reach high enough upon its tower;
No machine can reach high enough upon its tower;
That tower must fall for nature’s beauty to reign, To revive thy lyricist ancestor’s sovereign.
That tower must fall for nature’s beauty to reign, To revive thy lyricist ancestor’s sovereign.
Cold Alley, Andrew Altoon ‘27
model 2, Kurt Romero ‘26
Sirens I hate sirens.
The sound of people getting hurt.
Grieving families and pained faces.
Gruesome thoughts: a bloodied head or shirt
This shouldn’t be the constant norm, the basis. Seeing severe trauma aches my heart,
But, oddly, it’s almost an art.
The beauty of it all, watching people confess their deepest love as the end is near.
It’s almost as if they have no single fear.
Yes, I do hate sirens,
Yet I do see and love how it forms better people.
Now, I only wait for the chimes of the church steeple.
Omar Ismali ‘28
Saunter by Night, Declan Siegrist ‘27
Fear, Ignatius Doherty ‘26
Pain is Elastic, Hugo Pacheco ‘27
Tattoos of Memories
Ink spread across the surface like time refusing to stay in straight lines, carving its own story through every accidental spill. From the dark pools and fractured veins of pigment, faces and movements emerged ghosts of experience rising where the ink chose to settle. Each mark felt permanent, like that kind of memory that clings even when you try to wash it away. And in the end, the chaos of the ink revealed the truth: some memories write themselves into us whether we invite them or not.
Hugo Pacheco ‘27
Icon or Product, Andrew Sweeney ‘27
Medley, Muge (Jerry) Yuan ‘26
Tattoo of Memories, Hugo Pacheco ‘27
Mud, Rain, and Glory Mud, Rain, and Glory
Rain hammers down, the field a slippery fight, Mud flying, cleats slipping, under the floodlight
Rain hammers down, the field a slippery fight, Mud flying, cleats slipping, under the floodlight.
Pass after pass, each one a gamble,
Pass after pass, each one a gamble, Every play a storm, each run a scramble.
Every play a storm, each run a scramble.
The Bearcats charge, fierce and fast,
The Bearcats charge, fierce and fast,
But the Cubs stand firm, refusing to pass.
But the Cubs stand firm, refusing to pass.
Last second, last yard, the ball crosses the line,
The Cubs erupt, victorious, fierce, and divine.
Last second, last yard, the ball crosses the line, The Cubs erupt, victorious, fierce, and divine.
Soaked to the bone, yet spirits untamed, Champions of the playoff rain, Bearcats defeated, glory claimed.
Soaked to the bone, yet spirits untamed, Champions of the playoff rain, Bearcats defeated, glory claimed.
Crawling Toward Glory, Xavier Wimbley ‘27
Xavier Wimbley ‘27
Xavier Wimbley ‘27
Untitled, Andrew Altoon ‘27
Chasing the Sunset, Spencer Horstman ‘27
My Cavern of Thoughts
The thread of the universe unraveled, A vine of flowers wrapped around my soul.
No longer bound, I let go; I was free.
Warmth then fell upon me, and three vines grew.
Chained to me, each vine caressed my heart.
Eyes, visible from the ends of the Earth;
A blissful voice that can calm the distraught;
And a love so daring none could handle.
But truth be told, you will not understand.
Heaven has entangled our vines as such,
And every flower still begins to bloom
In ways that bind my soul to yours for life.
Benito ‘28 Benito ‘28
“Bedtime”, Bradley Wong ‘26
Gray is the colo Fields of deep green gras were replaced by the f conc
The colorful, expressive now blocked by the un build
Cars, clothing, and shoe have faded into a palette
What happened to the color the joy that once filled our world?
Some may say this shift means nothing, just an aesthetic change for progress.
But I see these grays as reminders of the beauty we destroyed.
The natural world, once so delightful, is now a symbol of our regression to the primordial, dull world we swore to leave behind. In covering the Earth, we uncovered our failures The gray around us is not just a color, it’s a warning.
Silas Nur ‘26
Duality, Spencer Horstman ‘27
Moto, Daelan Aric Baldoman ‘28
Grey Skies, Matthew Baker ‘26
Backyard Lemons Backyard Lemons
Every street has that one tree, Branches sagging, doing the most, Lemons glowing like tiny little suns
Yet no one can be bothered to pick them
Citrus just hanging out.
They lean over fences politely, Offering free vitamin C, While neighbors walk past with smoothies They paid eight dollars for
The lemons are judging a little.
Kids use them as baseballs, Dogs think they are weird tennis balls, One rolls under a car and stays there Until it becomes profound and squishy
Somehow, it still smells amazing.
Grandma says, “Go grab a few,” Like I am running a small harvest. I come back with ten And she uses two.
The rest start a slow career as house decor.
If fruits had feelings, These trees would be screaming, “Look at me, I am literally useful!” While we ignore them and buy more.
Why do we not pick the lemons?
Rio Tanji ‘26
Rose Colored Glass, Matthew Baker ‘26
Untitled, Kurt Romero ‘26
3rds, Kurt Romero ‘26
L-I-V-I-N-G L-I-V-I-N-G
Lead Editors:
:
Bradley Wong
Bradley Wong
Carson Kuritani
Carson Kuritani
Mateo Parra
Mateo Parra
Muge (Jerry) Yuan
Muge (Jerry) Yuan
Suvir Khanna
Suvir Khanna
