Trimmed branches bleed ice, Gray grass murmurs, discontent. Clouded dome white weeps.  Rippled water Reality distorted. Walking back from class.  Small in a big pond Standing at a puddle’s edge Sees upside-down world.  Branches together Pointing, reaching, kissing tips Like cathedral doors.
In the 90’s my Tia wore her brown glazed lip, gold chains, baggy pants to school; she was called a ghetto, dirty– CHOLA. Now reflected on paler skin. Now its big gold hoops are cute. Now being brunette is trendy.  When did slick hair in a bun, big gold hoops, and Kiley’s gloss drip […
I am nothing       A pair of eyes stuck on the ceiling       No, stuck on the light fixture       No, maybe the moon       Either way, the blinds are      […]
By Julia Voyt Pages and pages of 12 size Times New Roman are bled across the paper feverishly, introductions and statistics under methods and conclusions. Not eating food and my bicep is smaller this week I talk faster to my family and I write, write, write. The earth outside smells different and sw
By Gabrielle Crone       Only a hillbilly would bring their injured dog to the vet using twine as a leash. At least that’s what our vet, Westley, announced when he saw my grandpa, Charles Bailey, in the lobby of the clinic twine leash in hand. Gizmo had injured his paw, most [&helli
By Emma Gail Compton I made the table I eat dinner at. The wood was cheap but sturdy. The stain I chose is a dark oaky red and makes the small round table seem more expensive than it was. One could find something similar at any store, but this table, my table, I made. I […]
