The Ivy | No. 2 | June 2014

THE IVY NO.2* Editors-in-Chief Gianna Kim & Haley Clark

Managing Editor Vicky Gebert & Nicole Kahn Feedback & Review Amelia Stokolosa & Veronika Szabo Technology & Layout Evan Pavley & Claire Schultz Business Stefan Pophristic Contributors Mikaella Granzen & Melody Zhuo Advisors Mr. Gonzalez & Ms. Muça

When we began the year in September, it was our dream to make The Ivy a high quality, professional magazine, that celebrates the wonderful accomplishments of artists in our school. Thanks to the hard work of the staff and the positive feedback garnered from the student body, that dream became a reality when we published our first issue in April. Your feedback inspired us to collect, curate, and design an issue in a little more than a month. For this issue, submissions were carefully evaluated and approved by approximately 90 peer representatives. What you are holding is the best visual and literary art as determined by your peers - The Ivy had no influence on the scores that each submission received. We feel that this issue truly represents the voice of our readers. We would like to give a big thanks to the judging panel for their contributions that led to this.

It took two to three meetings a week, juggling magazine work with APs, homework, and other responsibilities. It also took late-night video calls, and the genesis of many bizarre inside jokes. Despite the hard work, The Ivy staff has grown into a group of close friends.

With this issue we bid farewell to our graduating seniors who have offered their talents to yet another great issue. We would like to give special thanks to our amazing, graduating tech manager, Evan, who is an InDesign guru; and most of all, to our lovely readers who have supported us with questions, comments, criticism and praise.

THANKS Y’ALL! Gianna & Haley

-4-5-6-7-

TABLE OF CONTENTS

“Wooden Kings,” Brian Gliboff; “Growing Up,” Christie Samios (Poetry) Torso del Belvedere, Marie Louise James (Graphite) Degenerative, Victoria Gebert; Vacancy, Stefan Pophristic (Plaster gauze, photography) “A Man,” Victoria Kim; “The Guardian,” Kevin Halliday; “To The,” Zoe Resnick (Poetry)

- 8 - “Home,” June Rosen; “You Don’t Want to Build a Snowman,” Conor Donahue; “A Day in the

Life,” Patrick McCormick; “Battlefield,” David Li; “Low Tide,” Dana Smith (Poetry) - 9 - Tangled Links, William DeVoe (Pen & ink) - 10 - Untitled, Emma Nylund (Pen & ink)

- 11 - “Ella’s Tree,” Laure Hartmanshenn; “Once Upon A Time,” Adrian Hertel; “Da Struggle is 2 Real- Bull Moose 4 lif,” Bhairav Chandrashekar (Poetry)

- 12 - “Prince’s Crown,” Tony Chen; “Street Lamps,” Zachary Mowitz; “21st Century Addiction,” Emily Toplin; “Lazy Day in a Busy Week,” Avery Pelle (Poetry) - 13 - The High Atlas, Jacob Middlekauff; Kάρβουνο, Mason Shor (Photography, graphite) - 14 - Wild Flower, Blandine Gorce (Pen & ink)

- 15 - “Am I Who I Think I Am,” Krysta Holman; “My Bench,” Asra Mahmood; “College,” Maddy Lehman (Poetry) - 16 - “Perfection,” Alex Ams; “Insignificance”, Zaynab Zaman (Poetry) - 17 - Pinecone, Zhenia Dementyev (Pen & ink) - 18 - 2:45 in Paris, Marie-Angela Stokolosa (Photography)

- 19 - “What We Thought,” Kathy Sowa; “Heaven Could Not Wait,” Angel Fan; “Caught in Time,” Jon Lebeau (Poetry)

- 20 - Shrine, Nicola Faas; “Reaching,” Zachary Kleiman (Pen & Watercolor, poetry) - 21 - “Freeway,” Fiona Farrell; Skinny, Lucia Matteo (Poetry, pen & ink) - 22 - “High School Anthem,” Theresa Christensen; “The Dream Weaver,” Jeffrey Gleason (Poetry) - 23 - What, Julie Clement (Graphite) - 24 - Spiraling Stairwell, Stephanie Tam; Maxine, Claire Schultz (Photography) - 25 - “Day Chaser,” Anthony Teng; “Song of the Struggling Musician,” Gabriela Bloom (Poetry) - 26 - To Draw, Evan Pavley (Graphite) - 27 - Phoenix, Nicole Kahn (Graphite) - 28 - Round and Round, Tiffany Fang (Graphite) - 29 - “Modern Fairytale,” Veronika Szabo; “Day and Night,” Sunna Juhn; “A High Schooler’s Ode to Sleep,” Jai Ugra (Short story, poetry)

- 30 - “A Lense,” Casey Walker; “Unfathomable Ocean,” Jasmine Park; “The Journey of Sif,” Kevin Zhang (Poetry)

- 31 - Alone, Nathan Drezner (Photography) *The Ivy began in the 1960s, but its serialization began in 2014.

-4A Note

Wooden Kings

This issue of The Ivy is black and white, both literally and figuratively. This edition was printed in black and white with the intention of highlighting the contrasts that exist in life. We hope that we have captured the juxtaposition of darkness and light, of sadness and joy, of tragedy and comedy.

The wind ripples through the trees, knocking all the acorns down.

If only you and I could see, and wear the lovely forest crown.

We could do so well together, as two kings of the woods.

As we escape into the nether, we ponder goals we wish we could.

We are taught to do as told, and on our own we cannot think.

We are always just so cold, but all we get back is a wink.

So maybe we can be kings, if even just for a day.

We can learn to spread our wings, and simply go our own way.

Since we cannot wish that we could, We cannot even unwind, for we are both made out of wood.

The pieces gracing the pages of this issue are strikingly honest in their representation of high school and even life itself, with all the insurmountable happiness and crushing woe that they can bring. Once you become aware of this stark contrast, it is as unmistakable as black and white, as brilliant as black ink printed on bright white paper.

You may still be asking yourself, “Why all the bugs?” The butterflies depicted on the cover and dispersed throughout this edition of The Ivy, are yet another form of contrast, extending our motif of “black and white” beyond the literal representation of two colors. The contrasting phases of metamorphosis for a butterfly mirror our own transformation throughout high school, which is a recurring theme in many of the pieces you can find in this issue.

So, as you continue to peruse the latest issue of The Ivy, make note of the black and the white, in any form they may take. Revel in the contrasting tones and emotions of art and literature. Observe how the lowly caterpillar grows into a soaring butterfly from one page to the next. Consider your own life, with all the transformation it entails, and look for the black and white as they pertain to you.

- The Ivy

-Brian Gliboff

Growing Up When at the edge of the cliff at the summit of the hill when you see the other side but are unsure of your will You see yourself as a child never thought of growing old living carelessly in the moment a little too brave, a little too bold But there comes a moment in time when you suddenly come to see that you’re no longer able to roam completely free Yet though some fun must be forgotten life has only just begun prepare yourself for the future and what is yet to come -Christie Samios

Torso del Belvedere, Marie Louise James

-5-

-6-

Degenerative, Victoria Gebert

Vacancy, Stefan Pophristic

-7A Man A sturdy, athletic man; Man of determination.

An industrious, committed worker; Man of endurance.

A stern, uncompromising husband; Man of silence.

A soft, friendly grandfather; Man of care and love.

A man of independence And perseverance, A man of great importance.

That one day, A sore, lethargic man; Man of exhaustion.

A tired, confused worker; Man of stress.

A pressured, sullen husband; Man of pain.

But still, A soft friendly grandfather; Man of care and love.

A man of independence And perseverance, A man of great importance.

Since that one day, for 6 years, was, An immobile, paralyzed man; No longer an athlete.

An immobile, paralyzed worker; No longer a worker.

An immobile, paralyzed husband; Now a child and a patient.

But still, A soft, friendly grandfather; Man of care and love.

Was then, A man of dependence and perseverance, Still a man of great importance.

Today, A man absent, A revered man, A revered worker, A remembered husband,

A remembered grandfather.

A man of perseverance, of great importance.

-Victoria Kim

The Guardian Streaks of gold lift me to ensuing battle Floating helpless ‘gainst the distant shot Hitting the ground, I regain the saddle Piloting the path of that deadly dot Six strides backwards and I grab the blue sphere “No need to fear, they can’t see me here.”

The center circle beckons me near I must make the most of this minute career But my invisible armor restores to green In the open, I know that I’ve been seen Side to side I jump and bound I see nothing, but I am found With a bang and red light’s flashing This soldier’s reserve is frantically crashing One more bang and it’s done There goes that life, on to the next one -Kevin Halliday

To The Listen to the music Listen to the voices Listen to people Listen to the lyrics Listen to the harmonies Just listen Listen to me Listen to my voice Listen to what I’m saying Please Please, Just listen -Zoe Resnick

-8Home

A Day in the Life

And sometimes When my mind and I go away We go back to our roots With the reeds And the braids In our pond, The one that is always there in the pools of our eyes And we see the others and are able to nod in that way And know So we know And we keep on knowing Sleep always comes but not uninvited And even though I wake up in bed My eyes are hard at opening after being weeded shut And though I’m here I’m not homesick Because our eyes are always home And I’ll always have my eyes with me A reminder, We’re going home.

Driving down the highway, How many stores should I rob today?

I should only steal from one or two, But what else can I do?

I can hijack a plane, boat, or jet, Maybe even race my cars and bet.

I could throw grenades into shops, Just as long as I escape the cops.

I assure you it is all in good fun.

I don’t even feel bad when the day is done.

Showing no remorse is my motto, Just a day in the life of Grand Theft Auto.

-June Rosen

You Don’t Want to Build a Snowman If you want to build a snowman, I strongly advise that you don’t.

Stay inside where it is warm, Don’t bother to go get your coat.

They are lazy bums who simply sit around while you do the work And while your sweat turns to icicles, they just stare and smirk.

And if you think they’ll stay around, and provide some company you are misled, they will leave you as soon as it gets sunny.

Snowmen are liars, cheats, and thieves, it should come as no surprise.

You can tell that they are heartless creatures just by looking into their stone-cold eyes.

-Conor Donahue

-Patrick McCormick

Battlefield I pledge to serve your throne, None of us fight alone.

Knights riding on their steed, Pawn assaults will succeed.

Bishop attack flawless, Castle walls holding stress.

Overwhelmed tactically, Opposing king in glee.

Strategy and finesse, Such is a game of chess.

-David Li

Low Tide The crabs come out and dance across the sand Pulling away from Papa’s rough hand Digging little holes with my nails A blue horizon dotted by white sails Mom writes my name with her finger Foam from the baby waves lingers Seagulls hover catching prey The jetty getting beaten by the spray -Dana Smith

Tangled Links, William DeVoe

-9-

- 10 -

Untitled, Emma Nylund

- 11 Ella’s Tree

Da Struggle is 2 Real- Bull Moose 4 lif

Ella wore a necklace of rope, And suddenly she was gone, How quickly he lost hope, But to her love he hangs on.

Her soul lingers with him, Her presence he feels through hymns, When he hears her tree’s song.

Ella’s song he hears blissfully, In spring when she dances with the wind, Sways and kindles his heart with her flowery limbs, As he listens and cherishes her melody.

Fresh morning dew kisses the rope’s traces, Welcoming the widowed man’s embrace, Intertwining their love engraved in her new body.

Ella’s song he hears pleasingly, When she shields him from the summer heat, Protects him with her green jewels so sweet, Right then he never feels lonely, As he unites them with a harmony.

How gracefully she reflects rays of light, A shining armor for her beloved so bright.

Ella’s song he hears perturbed, As strangers march on her falling jewels, Her core once warm now cools, And her colors fading as the other trees chant, He cannot identify her clear descant.

Desperately clinging to her warmth, he sighs, As they sadly whisper a soon goodbye.

Her song he hears obscured, As winter terminates our fairytale, The bitter chill silences the nightingales, And her warming presence is sent away.

Now her wood is naked and tight, Dead, no longer adoring with delight, No more adoring bended knee, For this lifeless and empty tree.

It is Monday morning at 6:51.

You’re still asleep; your homework’s not even done.

Your shower is lukewarm; your oatmeal’s kinda dry.

Your mother forgets to kiss you goodbye.

You’re walking to school; it’s twenty degrees.

Your fingers won’t work; your toes and nose freeze.

Your zipper is stuck; your right sneaker squeaks.

Your backpack strap snaps; your soup thermos leaks.

You slip on school steps; you fall in the hall.

The toilet floods in the bathroom stall.

The gym door is locked; cafeteria’s the same.

The principal greets you by the right name.

Your classroom is cold; the hat rack is packed.

Your bean sprout is dying; your clay pot is cracked.

Your pencils are dull; the sharpener jams.

Your thumbs get crunched when your desktop slams.

Your science partner’s gone; your neighbor is rude.

Your teacher’s again in a crabby mood.

The morning bell rings; it’s 8:31.

Come cozy up to the blackboard, Another school day has begun.

-Laure Hartmanshenn

-Bhairav Chandrashekar

Once Upon A Time When you begin to grow tired And house becomes calm Everyone is in bed Even your mom But the poem’s due tomorrow And the day was long That is when you turn To poem-generator.com P.S. I wrote this on my own. I promise.

-Adrian Hertel

- 12 Prince’s Crown

21st Century Addiction

She stands amidst the harbor of renown, A beacon guides all those with orange heart.

Olde ivy columns guard a quiet town.

White like the pure snow, As it drifts silently from the clouds above Falling thousands of feet Down to this abnormally corrupt society Or is it black?

As the night sky Glistening with stars Watching over the people as they sleep The speed is incredible Traveling from one place to another Unimaginably fast Incredible It is an addiction It sweeps the nation, Contaminating more and more people Every day From young to old, It never ceases to amaze, A dependency that cannot be ended The iPhone

Tomorrow waves, adorned in cap and gown, They “think,” they “are” these students of Descartes, All stand amidst the harbor of renown.

From Nassau Hall shines forth the Prince’s crown, Both Haven and McCarter, sculptured art, Olde ivy columns guard a quiet town.

Reunions marry Einstein and the clown, Good reads, dear friends, fresh food come a la carte They stand amidst the harbor of renown.

Where men did fight the blood ran thick and brown, Here George’s Oak in history played its part, This ivy column guards a quiet town.

She’s more than just a place to settle down In Princeton tides of learning find their start She stands amidst the harbor of renown, Olde ivy columns guard a quiet town.

-Tony Chen

Street Lamps The lights race by on either side, Like fireflies in my eyes’ periphery, Acting as my incessant guide, Not to any joy but to a jury.

They light my long and winding path To a place that fills my heart with crippling fear Because of my judges whose wrath, If I fail, may take away all I hold dear.

I wish they would hold still, or die, Those beacons that portend my doom, And yet do nothing but fly by While I drive ahead in foggy gloom, With those lights racing by on either side As I wish that I had already died.

-Zachary Mowitz

-Emily Toplin

Lazy Day in a Busy Week My brain finds it quite rude To be filled to the brim so abruptly It senses the upcoming struggle Balancing saneness and study But as hard as I try And as much as I cry There is no escape from cycle Then raining from up above Wintry hope falls down from the sky And my benevolent guardian angel Cancels school on the fly But tests won’t go away Now I’ve wasted a day And this poem has come back full circle -Avery Pelle

The High Atlas, Jacob Middlekauff

Kάρβουνο, Mason Shor

- 13 -

- 14 -

Wild Flower, Blandine Gorce

- 15 Am I Who I Think I Am

My Bench

When you walk through the cold winter gusts, Do you feel as if you are the only one there?

As if you’re in your own world.

When a tree walks by does it stare down at you?

As if it doesn’t recognize you, Despite your passing by day and again.

You begin to realize your insignificance In a world so vast as the one you live.

You begin to question all you believe, Start to wonder what your true purpose is.

Children playing, running, shouting, Parents beaming, full of glee, And I take a seat on a bench far away,

-Krysta Holman

Birds chirping, flying, and singing, Squirrels crawling, looking for a bite, And I observe from my bench far away, Dogs barking, digging, jumping, Owners watching, full of happiness, And I watch from my bench far away, Children crying, pulling, tiring, Parents dragging, impatient to leave, But not I. I am as content as can be on my bench in the midst of the world.

-Asra Mahmood

College What’s your GPA? How high is your superscore?

Only a few extracurriculars? You need more, more, more.

Your best friends, classmates, locker neighbors, become your competition And you must be better than them if you want admission.

Essays, interviews, test scores galore, When will this all be over? When is the end of this war?

You think you’re just a number, they don’t care much about you.

Most of them won’t know that you started your own business or even play the kazoo.

You tell them what they want to hear, Such as how you are a born leader, and a huge fan of Shakespeare.

From someone who is going through this process, I have advice for you all: Be yourself and you won’t seem that small.

Express your interests and don’t hold back from doing things you love, Participate in things that you are proud of.

You are your own person And that will only help with your application, not worsen.

They like to see independent individuals, and that’s exactly who you are, You are far above par.

So if you’re of the many going through this stress, Just remember that, no matter what happens, you will always be the best.

-Maddy Lehman

- 16 Perfection Perfection.

Does such a thing exist?

Sure, flowers are great.

The spring breeze can be breathtaking.

Even a sunset can make you feel as if nothing else matters.

But perfect, not quite.

On a summer’s morning, I can wake up to birds singing.

On a winters’ evening, I can drift to sleep as snow slowly meets the ground, like a feather.

On an autumn day, I can jump into a fresh pile of leaves and smell the aroma in the air.

But nothing can compare.

Nothing can compare to the boldness of your brains.

Nothing can compare to the tenderness of your touch.

Nothing can compare to the sweetness in your smile.

Nothing can compare to the light in your eyes.

It wasn’t until some time ago that I came across perfection.

Your smile, your laugh, your everything.

Your tendency to forget the big things, but remember the most intricate details.

You. The way your voice gets higher when you’re excited.

How without knowledge, you pick up on my habits.

The way you tell me you love me when it’s time to go.

How you make me smile even on the cloudiest of days.

Perfection.

Yes. -Alex Ams

Insignificance Seconds are crucial When every moment can change our lives.

Spontaneity is dangerous, but makes us who we are.

Does everything happen for a reason?

Are our lives a jumble of chances, of accidents?

Perhaps.

Our thoughts, our actions, our feelings, We consider more important than all else.

Becoming smaller and smaller as we zoom out, seeing the complete insignificance of one person in a town, a country, a world that listens to the problems of billions.

-Zaynab Zaman

Pinecone, Zhenia Dementyev

- 17 -

- 18 -

2:45 in Paris, Marie-Angela Stokolosa

- 19 What We Thought

Heaven Could Not Wait

Always planning, never going anywhere.

Who do we control?

The ocean of thought, waves lapping, always moving, never changing?

No. The leaves turning, green to red to none to green, back to red again?

No. Circular walls, cyclical thoughts.

I’ve heard this before, I’ve said this before, I’ve thought this before.

We are powerful, we are invincible, we can do anything.

If we want to.

But who do we control?

Questioning always, yes or no.

How, and why?

Knowledge thirsting, attention grabbing.

Too good to be true, love at first sight.

The same thoughts, different times, the same times, all times.

So who do we control?

Heaven could not wait at the start of the fight Black smoke fills the sky, as the day turns to night Screeching sirens drown out the fearful cries Faced with the question: has all hoped died?

There was no escape from the awful plight Unable to bear the tragic sight, Some chose to leap from incredible heights And now, at peace, in the ground they lie For heaven could not wait Once in Hell’s fire, now in God’s light Victims rose from grey ash into clouds, soft and white We know they are now smiling at us the skies above But today we shed a tear for the ones we love For heaven could not wait

-Kathy Sowa

-Angel Fan

Caught in Time The hourglass of time begins I sit not knowing how it will end To me the wait seems forever For only I see the inevitability of this endeavor The person next to me starts to sleep Ignoring the risks of our leap The baby behind me cries oh so loudly The passengers complain without me To me the cry is not an annoyance But a warning to our flamboyance We begin to move with a forward thrust The ground below us leaves a trace of dust I sit helplessly waiting anxiously for his sentence Luckily for me it seems he has accepted my repentance My time has not ended yet But I am still trapped in this net For although I have survived this endeavor I will be followed by time forever.

-Jon Lebeau

- 20 Shrine, Nicola Faas

Reaching An outstretched hand tries To grasp what it thinks Is rightfully its own.

A single bird flies Past, right on the brink Of danger, its cover blown.

The straining, craning hand Brushes past those tufts And knows it has won.

The poor bird had planned, But in the fell clutch it puffs In the end it is outrun.

But the splayed fingers and palm Never stopping, never, no quit.

Never satisfied with the catch.

Many more to come, many a qualm Ever confident until it is fit Like a glove, with the hand, wretch.

The game’s never over, no no Come on now, let’s play for fun.

Try to escape the cunning foe Impossible that, it’s all over, done.

-Zachary Kleiman

- 21 Freeway Over the bridge the red lights seep in through cracked windows, Heavy August air dilutes the smell of chocolate shakes and French fry grease.

A saturated fast food bag in the back seat billows.

A playlist on repeat, we listen to the same old songs we half-heartedly wish would cease.

Surrounding sounds flow through our ears while our laughter composes its own melodyBouncing between us, the mix of snorting and singing adds to the hilarity.

A wisp of my hair escapes from the car’s confinement, Luring me to push the button and let the outside in to find us.

Green turns to red as we realize our limited freedom, “Home by eleven,” we check the gleaming clock in tandem.

Wait a few seconds, Then slam on the gasSpeed down the freeway and absorb the moments as they pass.

-Fiona Farrell

Skinny, Lucia Matteo

- 22 High School Anthem

The Dream Weaver

When I was little my mother always told me to remember that I was beautiful and believe me I’ve tried but sometimes it’s hard when the entire world is looking down on you even when you’re six feet tall

Under marshmallow sheets Dreams flit and fleet While a CD coaxes Small hands and feet Through the windows’ doors The moonbeam soars An illumination Of shadows’ pores And within your head The night embeds His trusted companion Dream-spinning thread Before a backdrop dyed By midnight sky The weaver’s shop Tells trees to fly He concocts a scene No one believes Your past recollections Your subconscious deeds Entwining these thoughts In his tapestry Feigning his place As your majesty But when the sun evicts The moon from sky What seemed so lurid Now is blind The wily weaver Surreptitious and coy Pilfered your dreams And with them your joy Oh silent weaver You odd recluse Halt my blindness Grant my plea And let me see That forgotten dream

Because then you’re too tall but if you were shorter you’d wear heels to pretend and your hair is the wrong color and your eyebrows are the wrong shape and here use this pencil to draw black lines around your eyes then you’ll be pretty And if we wear the right clothes and say the right things we’ll be invited to the parties with the cool kids and in some way what they think will validate the people we’ve become and it will be okay that we care more about our popularity than the grades on our tests We could tell you which eye shadow shades work well with the undertone of your skin but we forget to care about what’s actually under your skin that loving people because their faces are pretty is like choosing cereal based on color not taste When did we stop caring about what we think of ourselves when did our boyfriends calling us hot in our skin tight dresses start meaning more than our parents being proud of the what we have done and trying to do something to give back to the people around us We need to teach little girls that what makes us beautiful is the way that we laugh and how the sunshine reflects out of our eyes and the poetry we write and the songs that we sing and the way we can heal a thousand wounds with a hug and a pint of ben & jerry’s and that it’s okay to not have it all together as long as you love yourself because you’re the only person who will always always always be there for you and you are beautiful - Theresa Christensen

-Jeffrey Gleason

What, Julie Clement

- 23 -

- 24 -

Spiraling Stairwell, Stephanie Tam

Maxine, Claire Schultz

- 25 Day Chaser I sit amidst the shadows in dying day, Struck still by broken beams of light, And ponder sadly how providence may Have brought about her unhappy flight.

And now with radiance fast away, Left creeping behind, slowly comes the night.

Then under skies of sable-shadowed night, Behind the ever-moving star of day, Whose brilliance had scarcely flown away, I doggedly sought out the fleeing light, And in pursuit of its never-ending flight, I tread under roving stars as travelers may.

But stopping short to rest as I sometimes may, I beheld a fellow seated down in night Asking, “What for this hasty blinded flight?”

“I seek the fleeting light of Day. Hast thou seen her swiftly passing light?”

“Why yes, but as a bird, she’d flitted away,” Said he, “yet do not hasten now away, For still some tiny patience may, Yet bring about your long-sought light.

Just rest a while, with I, in starry night.”

But so consumed was I to chase the passing day, that he was ignored, as I resumed my flight.

And as a bird alights in startled flight, I rose abruptly, bounding hastily away.

But my wearisome chase of swift day, Like many Sisyphean endeavors may, Brought me to stop again in Stygian night, And left me broken, forsaken by the light.

Lost in bleak shadow, sundered from light, and bitter, bemoaning the end of my flight, I thought of the stranger, back in dark night and of his suggestion, that I do not away, and somehow perhaps the sunlight just may return, so sitting, I awaited the day.

And as I sat, away flowed gently the night, And as it may, its everlasting flight, Brought back ere Day, abounding in her light.

-Anthony Teng

Song of the Struggling Musician Three years ago we left our home in hopeful search of fame.

Rejection loomed like birds of prey, no success was left to claim.

Long days were filled with toil and fear; cold nights were just as dark.

Flooded in our warm dreams, a career— a chance to make our mark.

Bright lights would flood the concert halls and you’d be by my side.

“Encore!” would echo wall-to-wall— years of struggle, easy to hide.

After all this roaming with no aim, you’ll never guess what I’ve found; I need successes to acclaim as long as you’re around.

-Gabriela Bloom

- 26 -

To Draw, Evan Pavley

Phoenix, Nicole Kahn

- 27 -

- 28 -

Round and Round, Tiffany Fang

- 29 A Modern Fairytale [Hello, no one is available to take your call. Please leave a message after the beep.]

[BEEP] Hi, this is your neighbor from across the street. I’m Sally. My-y name is Sally. Anyways, your car light is on and, well, it’s happened before and I saw you getting it towed. And I wanted to save you from that, so, well, you might want to turn it off…

By the way, what a nice car it is. All blue and white, where do you drive it? Right, so I guess that by the time you’ve heard that your car light is on you’ll just delete this. But, I think voicemail therapy is good: good for the soul. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll just finish up here.

I guess I’d introduce myself as a computer software designer; no, not a fashion designer, not anything glamorous.

My employer pays me to write just gigabytes of computer software and, well, I decided it might be better for me to just, you know, write from home. There’s no traffic, I don’t have to get there on time, it’s nice!

But… I would so like to go out into the sun sometimes. It gets dark in here, you see. I have many lamps; that’s not the problem. But it always seems to be just the blue light from my computer. My mother, she likes to say: “That’s not enough!” and, “You can’t live only inside, it’s not human.” But I guess I don’t know any other way to live. I’m stuck here till someone pulls me out. What? Go out into the open myself? I don’t think I could do it. It’d just be bad for my eyes.

[Creeakk] What was that? I-I don’t have anything of value... please go away!

Why have you got a baseball bat if you don’t go outside, Sally? ...For protection. Who are you?

I’m Hugo... you called me? I’m here to help. It’s not that hard... simple really.

A-all right. Where are we going? ...Outside [If you finished recording you may hang up. To leave a call back number press five.]

- Veronika Szabo

Day and Night

A High Schooler’s Ode to Sleep

Another day comes to an end, The hour now is late.

To darkness thick the sky must tend, And breathy breeze abate.

Gone is the mellow yellow light Which warms us in the day-But in the sky gleam stars so bright They take our breaths away.

Night is the time of introspect, A time to think and muse, Of all and more than you’d expect A free mind to peruse.

But soon the earnest dawn cuts short The reverie of dreams-And light of day cannot distort That all is as it seems.

Crawl into bed at 3 A.M. Should I eat “dinner”? No, I’ll skip it again...

Only high school, yet so much stress.

I’m tired of this B.S. Someone told me these classes were easy zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

-Sunna Juhn

-Jai Ugra

- 30 A Lense

The Journey of Sif

Through a lense I see a way Not life in a desk all day Fluttering drifting back between realities Trying to focus and ignore the temptations of individuality

I walk with my master, Tall, Noble, Strong.

As he clutches his greatsword Sharp, Heavy, Long He took great pride in me, His grey canine companion.

We traveled the land, From mountains to the canyon.

His next quest was to cleanse, His mission to purify.

But the Abyss was too strong, As his mind was occupied.

My master lent his shield, A beacon of protection.

Trapped in divine light, There was no interjection.

I couldn’t do anything, As I watched my master fall.

Dragged into the Abyss, Converted into a thrall.

Now I guard his grave, Of Artorias the Great.

To prevent any travelers From succumbing the same fate.

Through a lense I see a way One day life will be lived as unique and adventurous as I say Voices whispered in the darkness all day Without a worry my mind travels while my body stays at bay Through a lense I see a way my life will travel with film one day -Casey Walker

Unfathomable Ocean You said, I love you like an ocean.

An ocean never disappears, dries up, or loses its motions.

I love you. I will always love you, you said.

Tides draw in and out, there are stormy nights, the ocean of myself is polluted in many delights.

Injustices and hard times overcome the great love.

You said, don’t be afraid of the world.

Imagine that I am there with you whatever occurred.

Who can comprehend the bounds and depths of an ocean?

But the deep could never contain you, you said.

Unfathomable depth swallowed the ocean, dragged, overthrown, and crushed by emotions.

-Jasmine Park

-Kevin Zhang

Alone, Nathan Drezner

- 31 -