by Sinclaire Gibson and as everyone slowly migrates inside,and people start to whisper about the first snow,and as the green of the grass hides below our feet,and the hiss of the radiator scares me when i first wake up,and as the moon hovers above the …
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poem
September 19th
by Nate Hanson ’28 Warm September night,Streetlights painting the night,Concrete on my skin. Two souls whispered through the dark,Things heavy, Sink in the daylight. He needs me, I need him,Is this magic?
Quintessence
by Gianna Hayes ’26 And it was a sort of magic, the way the summer used to drag on spinning dizzy like the tire swing which whirled you ’round ’til perhaps you felt queasy. (I know I did.)Yes, it was some magic, how the blue-blurred …
Where I’m From
Sinclaire Gibson ’27 I am from words, From books and from literature. I am from the stories I read as a child. (Noble princes saving damsels in distress. Talking gnomes and spiteful elves.) I am from the poetry that sat on our dining room shelves, …