image by Sawa
image by Sawa

September 21, 2013

Editor’s Letter: I love people with hearts the size of sailboats. We see things like everything will be gone in an instant. That’s the thing about poets, and teenagers in general. We’re in awe of everything that surrounds us. Whether it’s good or bad, we feel things so severely; it seems unreal. My memories aren’t just my own, they are the memories of everyone I have ever loved or will ever love. Maybe we’ve hallucinated our whole lives until now. What if you wake up in your mother’s womb in sixty seconds? Would everything feel just as important? I hope so.


the kids are gifted. the
angels speak to them. the
dead say ‘hello.’
when she looks up to
the ceiling
they are all convinced
she’s talking
to God.

she doesn’t laugh at my jokes but
i don’t take
when she giggles over
her shoulder
i know
she’s talking
to someone

i tell her to let me
know if they turn from
to nightmares.
but she’ll probably
turn to
– Kiarra Ledbetter


you were more
of a mirage
than a mirror
a sweet hallucination
in the desert
of my soul
you could never help me
find myself
I should have noticed
I was just getting more
– Heather Gifford


I want to tattoo Notre Dame on my back and
I want to hear you gasp when you touch
my skin and wonder how many other holy men
have laid their hands on my carved walls and
i want to feel your mouth breathing life into
the gargoyle tears running from my eyes and I want
hymns sung into my chest like a radiating chapel
in the middle of a french hillside and i want to see
my rose window light up a child’s face at sunrise
on the sabbath and i want to be a religious
experience for every altar boy
this side of Paris
I want to show you God.
If God had fingerprints and a past.
– Chey Addison


I wake up at night with your hand on my knee
Phantom limb
Tracing your lines in my mind
You’re my most sketched picture
How am I supposed to forget
You’re my most dreamt dream
– Anonymous

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September 21, 2013


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