By Katie Thomas
Published February 23, 2016
A mound of fur, tongues, tails, clumsy paws, and deep brown eyes, laughing with the ecstasy of play The heap seems its own creature, without distinction between separate bodies Teeth nip, paws bat, tongues kiss,...
By Rickza Kerr
Published February 23, 2016
If only I could help the world. I would like to get bad people and teach them how to be nice. If only I could fly and help people with their feelings, and stop them...
By Gabrielle Mott
Published February 22, 2016
When I feel peace, it’s like my whole body is on fire, with a dim, yet warm glow. Soft, like moonlight, peace creeps in my open window, sunlight glows. Somewhere, A mountain stream rushes down...
By Alden Powers
Published February 22, 2016
I sit here, and I don’t notice the dirty dishes, left lying in the sink I don’t stare at the holes in the wall, strange and unexplained I don’t ponder the fishbowl, tipped over on...
By Wujun Ke
Published February 15, 2016
The first shaft of luminous light travels, its speed unthinkable Over the horizon, through the trees, And into my open eyes. Birds hop about, like people, Trying to find a good Perch, branch, position In...
By Wujun Ke
Published February 15, 2016
The first shaft of luminous light travels, its speed unthinkable Over the horizon, through the trees, And into my open eyes. Birds hop about, like people, Trying to find a good Perch, branch, position In...
By Dylan Geiger
Published February 15, 2016
A winter walk— My dog barking by My side, Leafless trees Piled with snow, Rotten cornstalks Golden brown, Cows with frosted fur Chomping dead grass, Squirrels feast on Stored acorns, Frozen water under A rusted...
By Lauren MacGuidwin
Published February 13, 2016
Big and bright It stood and watched me. Shattering as I Skipped stones Across the surface Of the Solid lake, The ripples spread its Perfect whiteness. Silent but bold. It moved the ocean waters. It...
By Sariel Hana Friedman
Published February 13, 2016
Swaying wooden swings Whisper to each other The wind blows dry leaves, Scattering messages across the park. The white, lacy blur Of a girl Polished black boots drum along stone paths As the boy calls...
By Misha Kydd
Published February 11, 2016
Soft, quiet, a blanket of books, Turn left, left again, up the stairs, Feet finding the usual route. Passing comrades, enclosed in words, To the end of the row, near the window, The chair, my...
