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Cover Image- Province Town by Leo Kolnberger

Contemplation interspersed with “Somewhere In Stockholm” by Tim Bergling

Jonathan Schmidt

That’s me right there on the corner


shattering skies, not to 

break something but because sometimes you feel like being broken is a puzzle to put together


and sometimes it’s ecstasy to know that there's a piece missing


Neon lights hit the water

Reflecting the city I’m lost in


Maybe it’s a cruelty to be glass, breaking not when you take flight, but when you land


Maybe I’m so far removed from glass that I stand here breakable in the same way


I’m from a place where we never

Openly show our emotions

We drown our sorrows in bottomless bottles and leave them to float in the ocean


Confession doesn’t have to be minimalist- I want a grand confession, to face my parade of sins and sleep through the intermission


An underwhelming rendition of a complicated villain 

I take precise steps in highwire dreams, or else you cut the tension


Get it?


My hope and my money 

My innocence in a sense

Almost lost everything there


Right where I was founded


It’s grandiose to dream of glass castles, right where I stand, seeing the reflection of blended lights on the wind-whipped water


Is right where I’ll be found dead 


I hear echoes of saltwater recollection, of slow breaths and murmurs of language, of the slow journey of ice across your tongue


I hear echoes of a thousand screams

As I lay me down to sleep

There’s a black hole deep inside of me

Reminding me


Language isn’t precise enough, and in the end my command is limited. This war was always losing


The blush of the city lights, blurring the sunset 


A promise that never was kept

One of those moments you’ll never forget


beautiful marionettes, fading to black


I’m finally home

Hemma i Stockholm

Där jag hör hemma


Adella Catanzaro



Cosmina Gamsey Boudier


            Every person is a grenade of emotions. Waiting for someone or something to pull the pin out and let the swirling explosion of hidden colors rip through the air. Sometimes it gets cramped. No one even glanced at the plug but our anger, joy, sadness, anxiety, excitement, and any other unnamed feeling, squirm, and shove, push, and tug, shake, and break. Attempts to escape. The pin wiggles and jiggles, and…


            Released, finally free! The shell is gone. It feels good even if the feelings aren’t. It’s as if someone poured icy water on us in 100 degree weather. As the dust settles we inhale and exhale, we might cry, laugh, yell, smile. 

            But then we’re told by our society to return to our confinements, hiding our raw selves, after waiting so long to be let loose. A tear is shed as we leave, but maybe one day we’ll stay forever wild.

Radio City

Leo Kolnberger

Losing Face

Caden Adair

Radio & Losing

Just A Simple Love Poem


you get used to losing

your job

your body

your mind

and the years go by

and your circuitry fries

and you no 



            your face 


waking up from a dream

she walks through

your halls

striking you down

and you rot

and you rust

and you wish 

    you could


            her embrace 


yet you send her away

just like all the rest

wondering if things 

could have changed

but you sit on your throne

and so why should you care

if you feel 

    that you're


            your face 


I wanna be somebody

Somebody special to you


I wanna be somebody

You would call at night

I wanna be somebody

You hold tight 


I wanna be somebody

You write love songs about

I wanna be somebody

You would never doubt


I wanna be somebody

You tell your friends about

I wanna be somebody

You would ask out


I wanna be somebody

You think about all day

I wanna be somebody 

But I’m too scared to say

I wanna be somebody to you


Fey Werner

analysis of Cascade

Chanina Kosovske


Adella Catanzaro


Emlyn Mitchell-Bates

Cascade. What a beautiful word.

It’s not a soft sound, a

eerie, pulsating light of cranberry.

It’s not the harsh, piercing sound of scalp.

It’s a hard, poignant sound of Cascade, as if

to say something meaningful 

until the wind sweeps away the

last breath before falling, falling.


It’s the \ˌre-pə-ˈti-shən\  the flowing 

mountain reaches so vivid,

reach above the canopy forest the

Cascade of foliage, find a grotto, 

so perfect in Its luscious grasses,

Its watercress,

Its falls.

spraying mists in little

crests of wave, light

reflecting through the 



Cascade is 

a rush

of emotion

a feeling

of overflowing

joy anger.

pushing past the gates, 

flooding up the senses, 

filling up the

nostrils, seawater,

Breathing through lungs of Brine. 

Resign to the ocean deep. falling, falling.


Dry heaves in a 

Cascade of

expulsating liquid from 

what is in its essence

dried cranberries in

a caged chest, what is

in its essence a

bout of breath, that





Dream State

Anders Gibb-Buursma

Falling asleep, my dreams take me on many travels,

the comfort of knowing but not truly, that I have

the ability to awake if my world starts to unravel. 

Enables me to take it for granted and not realize its beauty.


My feet hurt, but it doesn’t hinder me, that’s a fact,

Morning is coming and my wandering will soon end,

My dream state is peaceful with wind blowing at my back.

Meet a stranger along the way and become good friends.


Dreaming of a different world, thinking it is autumn

then waking, thinking, wishing it was September,

wishing I could restart my journey all the way from the bottom.

When I resurface, I am changed, even if I can’t remember.


One place is left for me to go. 

When it’s raining, the only place is home, my sanctuary, my land

I might have a hard journey, but who knows?

Why think about things that aren’t necessary

I sit back and think, for I know I will awaken a new man.

The Lighthouse

Leo Kolnberger

Views of the sky in 2021

Paloma Hsiao-Shelton 

Views of the sky in 2021
Dream State

Seabird at Eagle Beach

Paige Lane



Rachel Friedman


Broken Past

Oscar Schiff

Broken Past

Ever since the accident, something has been off. First I started noticing little things, like houses that I thought were a different color, or that people's names changed slightly. My doctor said it was probably brain damage and that I was remembering things wrong. When I asked him if it was permanent, he gave no real answer. He simply told me it was too early to tell. He gave me some pills to help cope. I was probably just overreacting. A few weeks later, I started finding things much stranger. I realized that some of the streets I remembered were no longer there. My doctor’s name was Jon Davidson, but I remembered it to be Jon David. 


One day in early spring, my friend invited me to a barbecue at her house. I had some trouble finding the house, but eventually I found it. It was smaller than I remembered, but I couldn't really trust my memory anymore. My thoughts and words mixed together and the conversations were drowned out by my troubled confusion. I told my friend I had to leave early. I remember the crash perfectly, though. The accident was terrifying. My car flew off the road after I hit the guardrail and I hit my head pretty hard. I later heard that I was mere feet from crashing into a tree. After spending a few days in the hospital, I was discharged after that. It didn’t feel like I was there for very long, seeing as I had experienced such great head traumas. My memory is great. It was still great after the crash, but just false.


I went to the library. That place always helped me in times like these. I liked reading verses of the bible to calm myself. When I got there, the books weren’t in any sort of order anymore. At least I couldn’t see any order. Eventually, I found the black-binded book. I began reading it quietly, but aloud. I ignored the looks from the people around me. It was Genesis. I loved reading it, learning the religious take on how the earth and people were created. I lost track of time and I read the entire thing without taking any breaks. No one had said anything to me. It was like time had stopped. I stood, shaking my legs which had fallen asleep. 

“Hello,” I said to a librarian.

“Hello, how can I help you?” she asked kindly.

“I wanted to know why the shelves are disorganized,” I said.

She looked at me with a puzzled expression.

“They’re not in alphabetical order any more,” I added.

“I don’t think I understand,” she said in a voice that showed no emotion.


    I walked off to my house and it was late. That librarian was strange. I had a creepy feeling that the place where I lived was messed up, not just my head. I tried calling my friend but my contacts were blank on my phone. I could’ve sworn I had saved her number on my phone. I felt lonely and I fell asleep knowing no one was there for me. In the morning, I felt no better. I ate nothing, but went out on the street for a walk. I went back to the library. It was like I was drawn to it. It calmed me, but it also put me on edge, in a state of unfamiliarity of this strange new world I was in. The library had many people reading in it, but when I looked at the shelf, the bindings were all labeled as different copies of the bible. I looked around and all of the people were in deep study of the religious text. I read some of it and left. All of the librarians were gone.


    I started to freak out about it. What was happening to me? I looked for my friend’s house, but when I got there, the person who answered the door was an old man.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I live here! Who are you?” the man demanded angrily.

I walked off without answering. Who was I? I walked down to the river to skip rocks. I loved skipping rocks. I spotted one on the ground that was perfect. I tossed it, but it didn’t skip. I tried another. Still nothing. What was happening? It could be a fantasy of my mind, but those rarely last thirty years. I think that’s how long I’ve been here. I’ll never go back to the world where I once was, so this one will have to do. It’s crazy how a single change in my life has changed the world, well, at least my world.

Paper Crown

Sam Robbins

Paper Crown

Der Schneevogel

Leo Kolnberger

Ever Since NY

Aroa Zumeta

Der & NY


Jonah Pollock

Untitled- Jonah

Red coated hands rub off against my head

Trying to push the tears back into place

As I loom over an open rabbit


Its black eyes had reflected in them a monster I know all too well,

I hated it for that.

In the outdoors I promised myself freedom from it,

Except the sometimes bodied water, in which i always looked away,

And yet despite the odds it found me.


My failure,

Its cause,

My mistake,

And its regret, 

swirled together in that rabbits eye

In that devils crystal ball,

Like fog in the morning day

Behind the shameful glaze of that damned eye


I hated it

I hated the part of me I found within it


Salty, dripping, and only some warm

I shoved another piece down my maw

I wanted to stop

The hair sticking in my teeth

And blood running down my front

I became that reflection,

In which I always saw inside myself.


Falling down to my side, on top cracking branches and firm dirt

I held down against my stomach as my limbs coiled around nothingness

Two empty bodies laying next to each other in those woods

Groaning as I feel my thorough coated throat

I can only pray that the night is cold enough

To see what I saw in myself too.


Emlyn Mitchell-Bates



Aroa Zumeta

New York Streetart

Leo Kolnberger

Untitled & Streetart



Girl you’re so pretty

Even more if you were skinny

Do you really wanna eat all that

There’s a pimple on your head

Yeah, he’s cute I guess

But I heard he doesn’t like brunettes 

And prefers girls with less fat

You’re more of a fun type

But hey that is alright

Don’t be so sad

Boys don’t like that


It’s your life not theirs

And who actually cares

How much you eat

Let me repeat

You live for yourself

Not somebody else

Look in the mirror and see

You are truly pretty


Ollie Flynn

untitled ollie


Emlyn Mitchell-Bates

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