Falling

Driving over waters decorated with waste, filled with fish suspended in synthetic sludge, I prepare for the burn of fluorescent lights.

Exhaust rises like ash from a white Jeep with a “Save the Earth” bumper sticker. The cloud floats above concrete structures and the branches of invasive Australian pine.

On brand-new broken projectors, the spire crumbles. The fiery pixels smell like Brazilian mahogany burning.

My lips release a smoky gasp and fear pushes through my throat: like the act of placing a delicate plate

on an edge, ignoring it until the inevitable.

Poem by Gina Crespo

Design by Erin McLoughlin Illustration by Campbell Lackey Fall 2020

whispers whispers

The days are bleeding into One long blur. If you look close enough, You can see the seconds slipping by In the slow drip of the candle’s collapse, In the creeping gait of shifting shadows, In the flow of ink from pen pressed to page, Time treads on. There’s too much of it. I feel diluted in this pool of silence With no end in sight I slowly sink Until I lay on the river’s bed Watching the stream overhead Its gentle current tugs at me, But the sheer mass of it presses me flat. All I can do is stare As I quietly drown in the daze of days.

26 Fall 2020

poem 23 poem 23

My grandad used to tell me That freckles were butterfly kisses And now when I see Their delicate dance in my garden, I know he’s visiting me.

I see him in my mother’s eyes As they light up in awe of the world. I hear him in my brother’s hands As they pour across the strings. I feel him in my father’s arms, Strong and steady and true. And I sense him in my sister’s spirit, Stubborn, yet loyal and free. His wit is with me everywhere, In all the stories I tell. As butterflies flit, my heart soars. He’s here and all is well.

Poems by Sarah Mellinger Design by Soumya Kona Illustration by Soumya Kona