The Price

The Price By Remedy Ryan   The tourists trampled the sunflower field for the perfect Instagram shot The field reduced to useless, golden ruins   Remember when we were born? Our mothers cried for us then Little fools To think that beauty could exist Without pain   One winter night we rubbed each other’s hands until they turned raw I didn’t know it then But you were already gone   How much time will l spend in front of the mirror? Becoming something worth ruining— again

Continue reading The Price

In the Rain

By Abigail Koerner   It’s raining always when I’m with you And not because I’m feeling blue It’s raining raining And I can’t see I squint my eyes – there’s you and me Singing and dancing Kissing in the rain I said my favorite place was solitude But that was insane! Insane like puddles splashing Water drip drops down my face You are my favorite place But my heart will still race Love the chase Abigail Koerner ’21 ([email protected])

Continue reading In the Rain

Everything is in the air: A Poem

(A poetical study of what we inhale)  By: ANA NICOLAE It’s all in the air Fumes, body, soul Your breath stagnates the atmospheres of people  Your body disintegrates  in particles of dust Your soul pollutes  the heavenly skies And yet you breathe And yet you grow And yet you die Whatever comes to be Innovation and profanity Through clean air you can see Through nothingness apparent We are going blind  Seeing white clouds of hazard Mistaken for cold breaths in winter Whatever comes to be Process or energy Through clean air we still see Air atop air in concentric cycles An …

Continue reading Everything is in the air: A Poem

The Fading Days of a Crumbling Empire

by Remedy Ryan I felt a pang of longing but maybe it was just hunger I felt a flash of anger but maybe it just was Maybe you should eat something I thought I was falling in love but maybe I was just falling I thought I could get to the bottom of it but maybe there is no end in sight Maybe if I just lie here long enough my body will stop aching   I thought I knew my own feelings but maybe there was no room left for them in this burning building anyway Maybe I am …

Continue reading The Fading Days of a Crumbling Empire

Phoney Friend

By Abigail Jade Koerner Remember when we used to read? Now, between every page I see I check up on my Instagram feed Real faces smile back at me Not the faces my mind wanted them to be Can’t see clearly The words become blurred Time ticks away My phone battery dwindles just like every single day As I sit in silence with my old friend Phone Whose constant companionship feels like home The two of us: like yin and yang Changed my home and lock screen to a photo that I should hang But my walls are bare And …

Continue reading Phoney Friend

Overnight Dreaming

A Poem By Remedy Ryan and Abigail Koerner   Your arms feel like a long-lost sweater I knew I would find I am not any kind of perfect But I am warm and I am alive and so are you   “Tu tump” is Italian and my heart hits boom I said I don’t use onomatopoeia But sometimes don’t is also do You turn nouns to verbs And my brain doesn’t quite work When I’m thinking about you   My name is a word too But it still can’t fix the mirror I’m naked in a glassy field My desire …

Continue reading Overnight Dreaming

Poems

By: Jose Espinel Poem 1: Untitled   So many nights I’d branded myself Mycenaean And wondered in silence Whether Helen might visit my dreams If I walked down Allenby Street And continued into the sea. I swore I’d stay there, Devoting my days on Elba To studying the taxonomy of stones And other enlightened arts Of great men who never bathed Until with labored certainty I’d say: This is grey. And so much toil would make me a rational man. And rational men do not weep at her memory. And rational men find beauty in numbers and stones. But if …

Continue reading Poems

“By the way, it’s They/Them/Theirs”

By DARIUS JOHNSON Parentheses: “a word, clause, or sentence inserted as an afterthought into a passage that is grammatically complete without it” i looked at my body and asked it what it needed to be complete— and it sighed … a heavy ,wheezing  sigh… bereft of comfort and bereft of hope, a sigh like someone carrying too much. like an expectation… or a dick— or a dick that comes with expectations. a sigh like stuck, sigh sticky air thick with a masculinity i don’t understand – a voice not fond of deepness a hand too fond of softness it sighed …

Continue reading “By the way, it’s They/Them/Theirs”

Untitled

By DARIUS JOHNSON those who don’t know the loss of kin will feel grief, unending , when the rapture comes. how do you choose who to cry for?    how do you choose who you will allow to leave salt stains    on your sallow skin     or whose crucifixion you will watch?    by the age of 18 my brethren will have hands     that know blister more than calm    that know the weight of a cross    and how high to carry their bleeding father up to Calvary —    how far away to place …

Continue reading Untitled

Untitled

the first thing they teach you in bible school is the original sin the first exodus of the human race out of the garden where God grew our flesh and watched it wilt under the weight of falling apples and cognizance when he used the earth as seed to grow the first bodies the stench of our curious liquor more poisonous than snake’s venom brought draught to the soil… Adam’s eyes, filled with breasts for the first time, watered— half insatiable like mouth beholding prey half irritable like saint beholding devil the scar on his ribcage burned and his first …

Continue reading Untitled

A Spirit Moved

Experiencing the Heaney Suite Student Readings. As I made my way to Randolph on this uncharacteristically warm October Tuesday evening, it occurred to me that I had not visited the building in some time. Whether it is attributed to the hectic nature of midterm season or to the physical restrictions the strike has put on my comings and goings in Adams, I am sad to say that I have ventured from my usual path only for sustenance and caffeine of late. But the call of Seamus Heaney and an unfulfilled need for adventure drew me from my hermitage and led …

Continue reading A Spirit Moved

Moonlit Poetry 

The Indy reviews Speak Out Loud’s ‘Celestial Open Mic.’  A semicircle of cold faces, cold toes, and cold fingers.  A cold night across the concrete of the Science Center observatory. Faces shadowed by rear floodlights, faces lit by the waxing moon and a single smartphone screen. A voice. A mic. A quiet murmuring of snaps, rising against the stillness. Spoken word is a powerful thing. From formal speech and rhetoric to song, theater, and simple dialogue, the capacity to communicate and connect through sound resonates throughout our culture. Harvard Speak Out Loud (SOL) knows this well. SOL provides safe spaces—no …

Continue reading Moonlit Poetry