Poetry

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

Prose

STUPID by Ash Wang

I'm a walking pterodactyl with silver joints that creak every time I flap my wings. No I'm not, I'm a man. I'm Hercules trying to contain my golden muscles with linen. No I'm not, I'm a boy.

BANANAFISHBONES by lili tanghe

I’m in this exquisite kind of dilemma where I only really feel alive from midnight to three in the morning. I know the art of evoking happy moments, Baudelaire says, and yet the only time I can make myself feel truly alive is that three hour window.

I am you and you are me by elizabeth carusi

5:30AM, Ginkgo Temple, the center of the world, the month of stars 

Gold leaves fall and fly past the tall window Yuèxiá sits on as she watches the clouds drift by through the air from kids jumping in piles of leaves while others watch with grins on their faces.

ART