Secrets Scrawled on the Astragal

By Brett Seaton

It’s strung together through the fibers on the back of the lost
Dreams that leave you sweat-stained and hopeful
How dare we doubt ourselves?
In the midst of our mist and making, we think to miss?

carpet girl

By Yasi Farahmandnia

in this town
words hold hostages
not meaning.
if i cry i will
bleed, and i will
integrity and i will
rip apart the frontdrop that has
made my portraits pretty
for (maybe) minutes on end.

Turning Life Into an Art

By Rachel Franklin

What are we here for?
Might there be a purpose that is more?
Maybe only time can tell the true meanings of our lives; it doesn’t lie.
That’s the power behind our efforts that continue till we die.

Ordinary School Girl

By Hridya Kakumanu

I am an ordinary school girl,
I have homework,
I have assignments,
I have essays,
and I have tests.


By Vaugh McMahon

What is life?
Is it the short time between birth and death?
Is it a chance to do something?
If it is, then what?
Do we pursue happiness?
Do we try to help others?
Or are we all here to fulfill a purpose?
If we are, how do we find it?
We don’t.