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Nove mbe r issue : The L it P age Facul ty Advisor: Col e e n Hubl e r E ditors: Je ssica Dix on E mil y Smith Cove r Art: Ce l e ste Gre e nbaum

Table of Contents

  Kiwis  –  Vivian  Prieto  


Untitled  Photo  –  Logan  McCabe  


Mantis  –  Logan  McCabe  


Aeronautics  –  Aurian  Carter  


The  Black  Crow  –  Vanna  Ramirez  


The  Child  –  Taylor  Reese  


Apple  –  Vanna  Ramirez  


Because  I  Cannot  Sleep  and  I’m  Not  Sure  that  I  Want  To  Because  He   Loves  Me  and  I  Don’t  Love  Him  –  Jessica  Dixon  


The  Green  Journal  –  Vivian  Prieto  


The  Garden  of  Illusion  –  Anastasia  Kordomenos  


Words  Unspoken  –  Emily  Smith  




Kiwis Vivian Prieto

Cutting up a kiwi It feels soft- maybe it’s gone badBut it reminds me of summertime, when I had hours to fill by cutting kiwis and dancing around the kitchen and making things for you and you sat on the stool right there, leaning on the counter quiet and dark eyed and contemplating And now I’m eating a few kiwis alone they sting the cold sore on the inside of my lip they’re not as sweet as I remember That fresh burst of flavor, that I remember loving, doesn’t make me laugh and smile and scream and giggle at myself like it used to. Even a few minutes later as I sit down and write this my lip still hurts

Untitled Photo Logan McCabe

Mantis Logan McCabe

Aeronautics Aurian Carter

Fritz the lizard was lucky to be enrolled in Dr. Erasmus's Academy for Reptiles and Amphibians - the most prestigious school of Herpetology, Lizardology, and Biology in the entire country. Taught by the finest professors that evolution had to offer, students there learned the essential life skills they would need to properly fit into the cold-blooded society. Only the smartest species could get in. It was all that any young reptile would ever want or need. Except Fritz. What Fritz wanted did not lie hidden in the crisp and orderly corridors of his famous school. It was nowhere to be found in the library's shelves of thick textbooks or within his intelligent professors. He had tried - he really had - to learn to love the Academy, to adjust and adapt to find a goal that the school could help him achieve. But Fritz's dream was so frustratingly close that he could look out the window of the school and see it...just enough to hope that one day he could have it. All of his reminders to stay realistic would vanish into a watery resolve, and he would begin to ache for his ambition all over again. The sky. Yes, Fritz the lizard wanted to fly. It was torture to be reminded of the impossible every day of his life, especially since the view from the window showed not only the sky, but also the School of Aeronautics right next door. The school was famous for designing strap-on wings - the first device ever to extend the art of flight beyond birds to other species. The invention was a great success. It never left the lizard’s thoughts. The polar opposite of its prim and proper neighbor, this school drew

gazes from miles away. Its huge metal gates were shaped like wings. Balconies, landings, and huge windows jutted out of the building, which itself was vast and towered up into the clouds. Flocks of the flying students were always in the air above, casting dark shadows across the grass that

wooshed by faster than it took a star-struck lizard to gasp. If only, Fritz would think every single day, as he reluctantly passed the flight school's gates to get to his Amphibian History class on time. If only I could fly. The reptile society greatly frowned upon any new technology that would conflict with their old customs and traditions: strap-on wings, for example. The idea of a flying lizard? Unnatural, offensive, and improper. Even as other warm blooded species adopted the new technique, Fritz grew up hearing that that reptiles weren’t meant to fly, so they wouldn’t. They belonged on the ground. It was because of this that it took a long time for Fritz to stop dead in front of the Flight School’s gates, halfway through his hankering thoughts, to wonder aloud, “What exactly is stopping me?” Fritz racked his tiny lizard brain. His classmates and teachers would be appalled. Most likely, he would be shunned by his own species and be regarded as the lowest of the low in the cold blood hierarchy. The idea of it terrified him. But...he would fly. That thought tipped the balance as the lizard realized his fear to be different was the only thing keeping him from his dream. So he took a deep breath and let go of it all. Fritz was the first reptile to walk though the winged gates. He was also the first to fly over them.

The Black Crow Vanna Ramirez The black crow cries from a tree of naked and barren limbs. It's sad figure, warped and twisted, had failed to conquer the desolate grounds of ruin and waste, and was overthrown by its corrupt decay. The black crow now cries the solemn echo of its soul.

The Child Taylor Reese

For better, or for worse, he is trapped -or protected?by his childish views. Does he lie Behind the bars of immaturity or is he saved from the realm of reality? Is it better to grow up too fast, or not at all?

Apple Vanna Ramirez

Because I Cannot Sleep and I'm Not Sure that I Want To Because He Loves Me and I Don't Love Him Jessica Dixon

She hadn't slept in two days. The chart was simple: chronic insomniac, on medication, referred to the ED four times in the past two months by her primary care physician; not a smoker, no drugs, didn't drink, no anxiety or bipolar disorder, in no physical pain. Except this time. This time, she hadn't slept in two days, and she had a raging headache. Had to be driven in on the bus because she couldn't see straight, and the hallucinations were getting ready to roll. The toxicology report was clean; there was nothing unusual in her system. She just couldn't sleep. She was in the waiting room for forty-five minutes while a room was prepped for the customary exam. She watched the minute hand of the clock inch ever forward, tick after tick after tick after tick, thought she saw it jump once, then again, widdershins. Listened gravely to the man next to her who said his bellybutton had moved. Now, there was a lunatic. He was a diagnosed schizophrenic. When she hadn't slept, that sort of mad talk made perfect sense to her. Around one in the morning she was brought into room four, then over to room five, because it was open and because she hated the number four. It was a hard number, she said. Thankfully there was another room open. That hardly ever worked out. The schizophrenic man was put in room four instead. She hadn't slept in two days, maybe more, now that she thought about

it. The circles under her eyes could have been caused by someone's fist, and she was skinnier than a wrought-iron train rail, but she wasn't hungry. She was cold, though, and very polite when she asked for a blanket. She said that her headache had stayed mostly the same, concentrated over her right eye, like her heart had migrated to that spot and was pounding horribly. She yawned, rubbed her eyes, and fiddled with the metal rail of the hospital bed. She was very tired. At some time around two, she was admitted to the hospital. She was too tired to understand why, but she signed her name when they told her to, and she was wheeled upstairs without a fuss. The man in room four tried to follow her up but was restrained. He thrashed until security came. She didn't know he was there at all; the rooms were all starting to move, and some of the lights seemed to be going on and off, on and off, like in the game she used to play as a child. She was set up in one of the end rooms of the hospital, away from the hustle and bustle of the rest, in one of the darkest spots. A space heater was brought in, the door was closed, and she was alone. She couldn't hear the schizophrenic man, or the crew who brought her upstairs, or even the sound of her own breathing. She took a deep breath, then shut her eyes. She slept for the first time in two days, and when she woke up, it was to the brightest lights.

The Green Journal Vivian Prieto


And what is good for you

You don't try and win me back and

Lists that only have one thing in

that hurts


I’m starting to feel like I’m, not worth,


Very much. Can’t you see How that affects me

Dreamcatcher, find

I’m stranded in

Me a man


Dreamcatcher I want

Treading water

Millions of fans

Out of boredom

Dreamcatcher I don’t

Feeling like letting go

Wanna stand alone

And spinning down

When I sprain my ankle or break


my ribs


Who will carry me along? Who will shock me with romantic


Unexpected things that I’ve never ever known

Things I hate:

Who will glue all the broken pieces

The ocean of difference between

Of me back together, to create the

what you want

original mirror

I once had that he broke.

Maybe if I eat you

I need to see who I really am

And your family (No one gets out alive)

Who will love me, I mean really

I’ll feel some blood in my veins

really love me,


and how many scams

And full in my belly

will I fall for?

Or maybe I’ll just be even colder

How many times will I fall?


Before finding someone who will catch me

Hanging onto hope

No, even better,

Sucks when you’re heavy

Someone who I don’t have to fall

And I’ve got the strongest arms in


the world,

Someone who falls with me

But I’m quickly filling up with

And stands with me


And falls with me again

And sinking down Off my cloud


Of puffy dreamy hope.

When I’m sad I feel hungry


Hungry means empty Is a downward spiral Empty means a shell that’s missing

An upward spiral

a filling

If you’re upside down?

Missing something Or someone

Are clouds really cotton fields

Broken up into bits

Learned that in chemistry

Is the ocean the sky? Which way am I bound?

And smiles are more energy efficient

Where is home?

Than frowns, right?

Up or down?

So why not smile.

Are there such things as right and wrong?

And compliments are usually true

What’s romance?

I mean, if we’re gonna be honest.

What’s realism? What is weak and what is strong?

So if I can prove it I guess I can believe it?

20 21 I’m seventeen and there’s a lot I don’t believe in

“Body Language”

There’s things I don’t trust There’s reasons not to believe

Don’t make me say it aloud,


Hear it hidden in these words.

Like attraction

May your glasses not be fogged

and smiles

From the steamy cloud rising

and compliments.

From each chord of this

Dangerous things.

Song. Truth is, I dream of dancing with you,

But what if attraction is scientific

Far away, in cold, chilly streets


At an undetermined hour

Positive attracts negative, right?

Kept warm by your company

And laughter and being

Carefully from the fangs of my

Magnificent next to you and you


Being magnificent next to me

Because these words are totally

And we’d rule the world


So ask me to stay, tell me to stay,

They better work and this better

Draw the sugar of my heart

not end up tragic

The Garden of Illusion Anastasia Kordomenos

Sit there in contemplation, Whether or not to tend to our ferns and flowers, Be proper; be of our station, After all, who else will? Lest for natural showers. Walls built high of ivy and stone, Shielding the roses from natural life, Forget not yet, all that the wilderness has shown, But no, wild things create all of our strife. Tend to the lilies, lest they grow too high and uncanny, Water the topiaries; yet trim them to perfection, We wouldn’t want natural life to occur, now would we_ Yes, sit there in contemplation, Attend our station! Forget woes of the past, woes that haunt us still,

Just stare at the moon and its poetic lies, feel the fake thrill. Mutter about, thinking of useless tasks undertaken, Forget the troubles outside our beloved grove, Don’t dare dream of roses with thorns, no! All are thorn-less as the over-bred mutants here in our haven. Thorns will make you bleed, And pain is too troublesome, More important matters-one more to plant-yes we need that seed, Problems like that are easier, even if we are lonesome. Denial sensed, yet never uprooted, As we tend to growing vines of lies, Emotions be damned, like a computer virus…booted! Silence, no more exclamations nor cries… All is well, as long as we are in our garden. Were lilies growing precisely at this height, and rose bushes at that measured width. Everything calculated_ Apart from our troubles: that idiotic reality. Sit there in contemplation…

Words Unspoken Emily Smith

Words crumble in my throat, burning to escape. But even if they could, what meaning would they make? For I cannot comprehend the enigma of feelings in my heart. So I will try to hide them away inside of me, before they tear me apart. But I cannot pretend that I did not realize the moment I fell, For you. And since then, I laughed at your every joke, and I listened to every line. Yet now you are moving on, while it seems I am just left behind. Lost in time, but where did it go? I thought we could grow close, But now I’ve got nothing to show. And yet I just want you to know, that if you ever feel unworthy of the beauty of the sunset painting the sky, I wish I could look into your eyes and tell you, that if you ever discover that my heart belongs to you, Keep it. You Deserve it.