POETRY

Poetry is not only dream and vision; it is the skeleton architecture of our lives. It lays the foundations for a future of change, a bridge across our fears of what has never been before.

Audre Lorde

Spring 2025

Somnambulation by hayley ng

I walk,
not wander,
down the dotted yellow line of a two-way road 

American public by Sarah Shafiq

i hunker in the gravity of my prison, warm and soft

cacoon by brielle hobby

Butterflies stay in a cocoon
For approximately 5-12 days
But for me it felt longer

Fall 2024

When I’m gone by kamau nosakhere

When I’m gone
Don’t cry at my absence
Just hug tight and hold close
All of me that is left with you

Someday I’ll love Kamau Nosakhere by Kamau nosakhere

Bony
Hairless
Small

I put a flower in his hair by kamau nosakhere

To forget
What it feels like to cry
To hide this world of pain
Behind a face of indifference

Self portrait by kamau nosakhere

I am
That pair of headsets
Smelling of coconut oil
Waterlogged twice
Twice stuffed in rice
Torn and ripped

Wings of Desire by Kamau NOsakhere

I wonder what Life smells like
The colorful patterns of petals
Sprinkled amongst the green look sweet

Cries of Despair by Kamau Nosakhere

I used to wonder what Life would smell like.
I wanted to roll around in the mud
I had visions of us painting our hands

Muse in the Museum by Alyssa Shonk

The solid concrete supports my aching feet
as the girl’s unblinking gaze falls onto my face.

Girls like me by carle bleau

so like a stray cat in the city
i’ll take every scrap that i can eat
until the scarceness feels like plenty
cause my lunch table feels empty

The Spleen, My Internal Tempest by Sara Kumar

What art thou spleen, where my inhibitions lie bereft? 
The unduly taxation of my proper disposition 
leads to my forged submission 
to your act of theft; 

Red by Sara Kumar

I claim my territory in red,
lipstick rouge on cigarettes and coffee cups 
primal instinct outshadowed by postmodern possession 

Carrots by Jackie Andrea Winslow

One day, if I keep walking through the world
Without enough appreciation, I’ll just become
A serial killer- yes, I think I will.

Panama Jack by jackie Andrea Winslow

Panama Jack shines on my lips

Echo Was Beautiful, No One Knows Why by Jackie Andrea Winslow

Narcissus never really loved Echo, to be truthful.
He loved walking by the harbor in deadstock denim

“Smart Girl” by jackie Andrea Winslow

She doesn’t quite know what it is, this viscous thing, but it’s as dark green as his eyes,
And she’s standing knee-deep in a simmering vat of it, and her legs are numb.

Do something good by eva vila

i’m afraid
that every sweet thing i’ve ever done
was selfish
because it
makes you feel good

what it’s like to fall in love with a girl by eva vila

when she breaks up with you 
your tears will be 
blood red

I found you in a dream by nikka gershman

I used to hate to go to sleep.
The last voice: “Shush, not one more peep!”

Spring 2024

how do i tell you i love you with my clothes on? by naomi foster

how can i make you see that i’ll do whatever it takes,
even if it’s not my idea?

the right by eric lemos

Something I seek for 
What everyone wants 

making a lover by ava min

in between spaces of meeting again
the uterus withers and the mother softens

dawn over hudson - when diana dies by ava min

tell me, she said
the story of my body

Tinder slut by ava min

I put my man pants on,
set off for the big shitty city
where every star is a whore

postcard by Ada Heller

I dreamt I left the window open and my old selves poured in 
I speak in burghandys found in the first layer of skin

lent by cainine

you asked for a poem.

how
to put you into words?

Consolatory by Hayley Ng

certain milestones
are never meant to be reached,
but

Understand? by ada heller

Before I was old enough to understand,
before my family started going to church
when I was ten,
my mother taught me to pray
to the passing ambulance’s
cry siren of our
little tucked-away city street

The countdown by eric lemos

Five words come straight to my head: “How can I stop this?”

Slipstream (sleep study) by Alex DePinho

in the still river/bed of my own body i am most alive
submerged: drowning, or breathing, maybe
both at once.

old lives by ava min

because sometimes oranges and sometimes clementines
because I’m falling for a man that my friends don’t like

skin by Ada heller

Somewhere
although I’m not sure where
my hair ended
and the wind began

a new pharology by Alex Depinho

tonight i dream of her
throat as the tower:
crumbling.

In Celebration of Green, let tomorrow be everything by hayley ng

a smiling little girl in overalls covered in chalk, kneeling
in the center of a brown chalk house,
told me that she didn’t have a favorite color

Fall 2023

Thirsty by Salona Bhandari

there is some part of me that is always dying of thirst.
my friends don’t have this feeling,

Poached egg by vee venning

Spilling
Spilled and
Spilt

I hate showers by Vee venning

The shampoo and conditioner bottles sit,
mostly untouched
on the flat, matte, boring tile that I don’t very much like.

Remembering (2022) by Ava Min

diana, do you remember
the pool floaties we blew up in bre’s garage

woman come home by Ava Min

if your plan a doesn’t work
and neither does plan b
don’t feel badly about it
they’re made to be buried

an explanation by Sara Kumar

there’s a theory out there that the simplest explanation is usually the right one.
it‘s called occam’s razor and
i think it’s what you used to shave away my layers one by one,

Victoria’s Secret by Ada Heller

I watch two boys
take a picture
with the giant Victoria’s Secret Ad

half-formed by Ada Heller

You smell a little of lavender and
that time in Marseille when your dreams and I
walked through cobblestoned, Christmas-lit streets. And

sunflower elegy by hannah smokler

I mourn August sunflowers that never bloomed —
The world is more empty without them.

YOUR POEM IRISÉ, SONOROUS SUN AND SKIES AND THEN SOME AT FOUR BY AVA MIN

I want your skin like the earth grows grass 
I want your face the sanguine way dusk does dawn, 

fled by ada heller

The city made her naked,
scraped the skin from her palms,

adulterated by hannah Smokler

A puff of cotton-candy smog clouds the front
windshield of the car behind me as I step out of my own

in god’s likeness by sara kumar

when god crafted me she made me in her likeness
an ephemeral manifestation of the eternal
and she is yearning

small violence by sarah Shafiq

the world’s smallest violence is a baby biting its mother’s nipple
she winces, lips pressed tight, and allows it to suckle

Spring 2023

Agonizing anxiety by Cailey Koch

all-too-familiar pit in my stomach,
sinking deeper with each passing second

it rained today by Kamau Nosakhere

It rained today
I felt gray today

Secret Chord by Brianna Vaca

If there ever was a secret chord I’d play it
Alone

Anxiety by Heaven Holford

it feels like anxiety is in the air i breathe:
oppressive, like humidity or spring pollen or smog.

Little Miss by Michelina Smith

little miss too much.
little miss never enough.

“I’ve never smoked a newport” by Grace Guerra

I am currently staring at my last Newport cigarette
I admire its old mediocre packaging

Rosaries by Isabella Acuña

Mi abuelo dances to Johnny Cash in a plastic urn.
His dust once defined by base carnality

and when your hair turns earl grey… by emma burden

And when your hair turns Earl Grey,
I’ll be there waiting for you,

canto 23 by brianna vaca

you shared a cell with our father
a postcard I sent taped on the graying brick

one man show by alex thaler

A glass clinks.
The applause begins.
The man takes a seat.

visibility by heaven holford

My home is one room
With flowerpots in the windowsill,

me or my body by michelina smith

i was in kindergarten
when I discovered that
my body
was an object.

love letter to the displaced by ISABELLA ACUÑA

I see them when I close my eyes at the draw of another hateful day,
souls sifting through the dirt of Dante’s fifth circle of rage,

diving in head first by heaven holford

and feeling the water
break at the tip of my fingers

you by kamau nosakhere

When the rough wind
blows through the trees
And the bees
can't reach the future fruit
The blossoms look to you

scared of the dark by alyssa shonk

I didn’t realize she was gone–
She left
without telling me.

Fall 2022

you having none of the fame of someone half your age by Kathryn Fitzpatrick

you having none of the fame of someone half your age
your grandma’s winning smile mixed with your mother’s rage

About **** by Kathryn Fitzpatrick

falling back into a hard time
not exactly feeling quite right

My Mother by emma burden

I am afraid of my voice,
Afraid of the way that it may ring,

Hanging Upside Down in Soddy Daisy, Tennessee by Emma Burden

I can walk across the balance beam,
My feet grip its bleached wood, my toes arise with splinters in their flesh,

CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT BUT THIS IS LOVE by Naomi foster

here i go again
answering the late-night call

Spring 2022

taste test by alyssa witvoet

I name you Magpie;
you call that projection.

untitled by alyssa witvoet

My mother tells me how, when I was little,
she would measure

first things first by alyssa witvoet

To invite a dinner guest, I must first
cook dinner.

i’m sorry that i didn’t try harder when we were ice skating by emma burden

I have always dreamed in short sonatas,
tempo at prestissimo,

maphem by emma burden

It’s a lost copy of a publication, 
Drifting through the hands of those in apartment 4K,

daniel by grace yanucci

A connection which feigns that
of ball and twine.

the way of the world by jessica sreekrisenjee

What will my daughter think
When I tell her she cannot travel alone

nameless by Booch o’connell

I’m the nameless woman
whose eyes you gaze into.

three boys by Booch o’connell

I played a game with three boys
One blonde with glasses who loves to sing

banana bread by maia nuñez

You Will Need: 

● Two very overripe Bananas 

● Canola Oil, or Any Other Oil with a neutral demeanor 

Humming by Alyssa Witvoet

Dearest Wide-Eyed Body, as in our last year of childhood,

        How should I address you? So much has changed—
                I find myself unable to separate 
                your eleven-year-old being 
                from its subsequent Becoming. 

Poem 84, Emily Dickinson, 1859 by Alyssa Witvoet

Her breast is fit for pearls, 
But I was not a “Diver” — 

How could I be? A diver—to swim so deep I could no longer see the Sun, to immerse myself so entirely in the abyss and trust—the air would return to my lungs. Endlessly sentenced to scour muck for priceless pleasure, no say in the matter. And yet, how different would it be, really?

Susan’s Response (1861) to Emily’s Poem 84 (1859) by Alyssa Witvoet

Her breast is fit for pearls, 
But I was not a “Diver” — 

If you are a diver, tie me to your wrist. Twine my palm to the creases in your knuckles, drag it through the muck you are scouring, again and again find the priceless pleasure you name. My absence may have muddled your heart, yet I am begging, pleading, beseeching your tender forgiveness.

Genres & Genders by isabella gonzalez

Chapter 1

I, the little hero, swallow the sun,
tired of the torturous heat that flushes
my skin petal pink. 

Rotton by Anna Helldorfer

Out of the womb, 
through the woods,
to the place where
my limbs eat my soul. 

Soju, Soju, Soju by Emma Burden

The first time I went to Chinatown was when Marge Simpson still had her pastel colors,
She sat in front of a ViVi Bubble Tea, with an cross painted upside down on her forehead,
I sat beside her sipping taro boba from somewhere else, and my mom took my photo with her,
I stayed away for four years

Super-Veggie by katrina lambert

Zoom in, real far in behind your refrigerator door, and inside you will find a world in the vegetable drawer.
Ever looked before?
It is unlikely you would have seen it, the creatures that live there won’t reveal it.

Rosy Chamber by Grace Yanucci

How peculiar that a childhood will
Dissolve,
A glass filled with a dulcet lullaby.
Ballet slippers, glazed pink, warm white cotton,
A bedroom veiled in fog.

Purpleheart pedestal by grace yanucci

I can feel the notches in my spine
up against the bedpost;
I am surprised by my autonomy.
Shame.

Swimming in April by Booch O'Connell

i wait for you to kick me out.
to hear the roar of thunder and know, then
that i must go.
i try to kiss your surface,
but you melt into my mouth.

Fall 2021

SEROSANGUINEOUS DRAINAGE by erin healey

She’s chewing one of those herbs you need to chew to heal

The glorious spit on the singing wound

late summer, morning by eva gelman

it’s morning and i am awake

while the sun rises and my roommate leaves for work

temper by jackson lewis

A delicate glance broke the silence of years 

Taunted scars raged against captivity

the advice i got from a fortune teller on the night i knew something was wrong by eva gelman

when we called, 

you told me you spent the weekend 

poem 1 by omi mehta

It is in the darkness of our minds,

The untravelled abyss of our souls,

Poem 5 by Omi Mehta

Our love was a thread I never quite let go of

I held on

Tightly

Dearly

once again by luis castellanos

And many months later I am here again,

Writing about someone I barely know,

canvas of virtue by grace thomas

If a shift of flesh is heard in the underbelly of the church

there might be a rapture

Winter in Pennsylvania by Maddie katz

snow on the mountain

sends shoots to a distant hemisphere

Roller Skating, Sprained Elbow, Farmer's Market! by erin healey

I sprained my elbow roller skating

I was 19 and it had been a month

Since she died,

November is rising by olivia leduc

i was kissed by the silhouette curtains of september’s autumn

my cheeks stained by the orange of october

pseudonyms by Neve Beatriz Mendoza

now here is this beautiful boy & he says however i say his name will be correct. says, “the sound, it just doesn’t exist

in english.” his parents would never have named him that way if they thought they’d end up in queens, 

cultural melting pot, most diverse borough.

Listen by michelle agaron

Lower the scalpel and forget this rotten project of yours.

Forget tracing the bridge and hoping to find straight edges

and contentment beneath your fingers, forget what is palatable

Click to start by Irene hao

Life is not a game to be played so carelessly.

This is my life, my level weighed carefully.

There is no respawn waiting at home.

If I'm going to live, I'll do it on my own.

homesickness (confessions of a polluted pond) by eva gelman

a growing city, like a child,

needs something to drink from

i like to think that the pond

loved the gaping mouth.

Closing my eyes by marissa pecorelli

i think i blinded myself

when i was little i would stare at the sun

articulation by Isabel Daniel

01. It’s putting on chapstick and buying a new pack of sponges. It’s lacing up boots and using a makeup remover wipe. It’s searching for synonyms and sitting in silence. It’s looking out the window wanting to scream until you understand.

Haunting by emma burden

It haunts me when you cry, when you tell me that you want to love me, but that he ruined you,

That he made you never want to love again,

Spring 2021

childworld by leah toledano

There was a child who touched themselves in places the pastors and the preaches and the principles forbade them to.

daily prayer by lilliana resnik

And i will tear open the world

Like a premature bud

Excerpt by sara lockett

You get

to your

feet like you

dig through

your pockets

for loose

change

heat rises by julianne holmquist

Smokey haze diffused through

The once golden air,

cement by brianna vaca

The wounded streets seeped into my virgin feet

Osmosis from my toes up

the duplicity of tomorrow by mary alter

Tomorrow’s never certain

That’s what they always say.

Commute 2 by Freddy butler and meg schanes

Smoke did not

blow from a manhole cover like

a woman dancing

in the wind, but

he wished it did.

Commute 3 by Freddy Butler and Meg Schanes

There was never

any question of whether

they knew the route better than

the back of their hand;

Commute 4 by Freddy Butler and Meg Schanes

“They are social animals,”

Aristotle said.

spring in dog city (reprise) by eva gelman and lu aubin

I woke up to the dawn, ending

my thoughts muddled my street

muddy

my hair the color of mud

bad bones by eva gelman and lu aubin

It’s hard to write with a dead bird lodged in my throat

She used to live here by eva gelman and lu aubin

I tip-toed towards her

doe-like

carefully, I held her close,

Body of an unknown christ feat. blood by Isabella Gonzalez (writer) and Leah Toledano (artist)

I used to be afraid of my navel,

this twisted screw sealing my organs shut

and reminding me that I could be unraveled if

someone dare try. No one provided instructions

Silver falls by shannon Rao and Sophia Swettenham

[1976]

This is where the ghosts come to dance, she tells the girl following her.

This is where we found the old dog with a bow on its tail.

Our Timelines by Cathleen Freedman

You and I,

in the whole history of Time, of Being, of Existence!,

are here.

Untitled by Alyssa Witovet

oil drips between knuckles, onto harsh

wax as intentions, carved from brittle tools

Giving back and forth, but give to me by maeva ambrose

what do your eyes open and see, as I clench mine—

deeper, darker, into oblivion—

do they see in the deep?

Communion by Sammy bittman

we’re having communion over meatball pizza,

our fingers slick with grease and our bellies warm with

dough and lazy laughter—we are in no rush

How to feel better about everything by bea mendoza

1. know that you deserve better.

2. stop crying

3. stop crying, really

I LOOKED UP AND SAW THE EDGE OF THE UNIVERSE by Ethan Manning

Heads up, heads up. 

A penny flipped for fortune, 
the weight of a wish betters copper, 
buckling to pressure from the eyes of a folly man. 

Invitation to Float by Michelle agaron and bean mendoza

You were a lived-in body when I met you, 

swelling and contracting to make room for me, your flighty

passenger

Ode-meal by maia Nuñez

Oatmeal, my beloved, 

Before you’re beatified, I have to ask: 

Are you a Gemini? You’re just so versatile! 

Burnt by Brianna Vaca

Take a walk, take your lighter

Ashes on my palms and on the carpet

SoulSearch by danielle davis

Last Saturday my heart and mind went missing 

so 

I sent my soul hangliding 

over the Sierra Nevada mountains.

That time i talked to the sky by jessica yu

Oh wait, I think the sun is out now

I’m sure the clouds will pick me up soon

The first human by michelle agaron

The day is wasting away when you call me,

tear-streaked and surrounded by sterility.

You say you went looking for a creation myth and

found the fading pulse of a broken wing instead.

The tragedy of daylight by mary alter

I guess when it’s always nighttime you never really think about the darkness

Fall 2020

An Anatomical Dissection by Leah Toledano

You yearn for the origin of your dreams and

the source of your sleep. You imagine the core

to look like a very strange place. It is.

and as I’m growing by Jessica Lovett

a shadow of all of us made on the

floor

anonymous by Shannon Rao

I could tell you the story of a girl who whispered

as the leaves fell so as not to wake the trees

Empty Mirror by Marissa Pecorelli

in the mirror there’s no reflection

I could’ve sworn I was there yesterday

now I am blank— I am Not

Forever home by michelle agaron

“you remember everything.”

what you mean is i fill every room with your habits,

I filled out the paperwork all wrong and now I’m going to redo it by lu aubin

How many girls are there in a man’s world? Not many but

there are

flowers and plants and little crumbs and dresses

i in new york (quarantine blues) by eva gelman

i. in new york,

lost in the global

I live in america by Alyssa Jordan

I do not like America. I do not like the way

American men stare at me.

I pit myself against America.

Imposter syndrome by julianne holmquist

I watched a Ted Talk on

P O W E R P O S I N G

Medium by Margaret McNamara

I think the typewriter will fix my problems.

I think the typewriter will translate my thoughts on the page for me and I think the typewriter will catapult me into being who I want and making what I want and if I can just get the typewriter fixed but I don’t get the typewriter fixed and that’s what’s keeping me from everything that I want.

Night’s Forecast by Valen Jones

The mortal numbers

do not for slope, they spiral.

Ode to big tex by Isabel Daniel

One ticket on the DART to the fairgrounds, please.

Right up to the gates more glorious than heaven’s

for a single perfect day.

Ornery Clownery (East Bound Clowns) by Bea Mendoza

For you and you only, I find myself a fool.

In desperation I have choked on breadcrumbs

begging for satisfaction

Places I want to be by Eva Gelman

i.

alone in the night with the music blaring

shoulders bare / eyes shut / swimming

in the night

alone

Shoulder Soirée, all mine by Maia Nuñez

I repeat it over and over,

My new nighttime mantra: I’m lonelier than ever,

But at least my skin is soft!

This by Woody Wisz

under an early moon back home the

owls weep together to remind me that

there is still time.

There is no you and I by Michelle Agaron

We planted the seed before it all began — before the world folded over and we became bugs trapped in amber, restless for the freedom of a lazy day.

Tomorrow I might be lloyd Dobler by Bea Mendoza

Last night I thought of weathering winter with new eyes

and broader shoulders

Raleigh by Woody Wisz

on Sunday I hear music wherever I walk because

I want it that way and I heard

the birds and read a poem or two so in a sense I’ve

gone to church,

the church of ordinary and lovely things.

uprooted by eva gelman

and so the lake became the river

and the catholic church became the catholic college

a love letter to the city. (and myself) by juju jaworski

I have been searching 

Searching my whole life for that feeling

letter to an untraceable love by isabella gonzalez

It hurts to know I only like you, love. 

There, there’s no potential measure of love unless

Notes from my urologist by lu aubin

Good amount, could do more.

Spring 2020 and Earlier

the truth behind meteorology by olivia leduc

when i look at you,

you are every weather.

slipping by maia nuñez

I couldn’t help but pity the saleslady,

The way you kept pestering her with questions.

modern love sonnets by sophia swettenham

A bustling bar with bunnies on the wall—

At once I feel so young and so mature,

forty-five by jessica lovett

people running around

like bucketless leaks,

cute by jessica lovett

you’re sitting with the boy you love

and he calls you cute

Saying Names by Bea Mendoza

The first time he said my name, it felt

like the wind the air carries.

HOME BY ERIN KIERNAN

But if you were there, regardless of where,

I bet I could ignore it.

WILT BY SARA ABDELBARRY

My walls are seemingly fond of your shadow;

The lord is my shepherd by erin kiernan

I sit on this stump, yes I sit and I pray,

And I wonder how God will address me today

interphase by ryan boloix

A black lake

The Ultimate weight

those who do wrong by Peyton Skoczylas

Those who do wrong

know not the difference between morals and selfishness

Orange/Nostalgia/Miami by shan rao

It comes in the sound of violins

shrieking at first then quieter

years spent escaping in the universe by kiersten wood

along an arch of broken stars

she holds her breath

cityscape by kiersten wood

under the yawning moonlight,

sidewalk’s cement burns

insomniac by kiersten wood

As a child

darkness blanketed me like a humidity thickening

saint lawrence river by Sophia swettenham

the stars, beyond the space that can be classified,

avoid the burden of names

november poem by isabel daniel

something in me is unfulfilled.

Prescott by Sophia Swettenham

America’s archangels

neon blinking

I Hid A Flower In A Roman Forum by Maia Nuñez

I hid a flower in a Roman forum

And left it there for someone else to find.