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Archive for the ‘Art’ Category

Hazard, by Jacqueline Allison

Hazard, by Jacqueline Allison


I Do, by Tai Hardie

I Do, by Tai Hardie


Phoenix Now, Issue 3: Reawakening

Phoenix Now–Issue 3–Reawakening


“Collage,” by Brenda Smith

A photograph of art work.


Phoenix, by Kwame Grayson


Those Colorless Bastards, by Kwame Grayson


Phoenix Now, Issue 2!

New  Phoenix Now Issue 2


Phoenix Now Issue 1

 

 Free fantastic, student-created magazine

 

 

 

 

 

Group Poem by: Jason Kolodzyk Brandon Haut Tasha Levy Hollerup Richard Plevak III Elise Boucher

“Narcissistic_culture.com”

 

1. He writes his own news with large, sullen eyes that swallow

whole towns, larger than lives,

    And blends what he “knows” with the things that he thinks through the

headlines and news-feeds and patterns of ink.
But it is nothing, in the scheme of things. Nothing that his sullen eyes
have seen and nothing that his clouded ears have heard.

That make him write with such fervor,

Such passion as the candle burns down to dim.
2. She smells his passion, inhaling fumes from the soaked, bleeding coffee filter,
discarded with his crumbled thoughts, his day’s work undone.
What did it all amount to?  They, the people, read him, but, she thinks,
do they hear his empathic scream?  Is it worth listening to?

And yet, she sits–day in, day out, scratching notes, messages, tapping keys,

Focusing on the dripping clock, on her taxi and her fiancée. And she thinks,

Is this the only place I’ll go? Or can I upturn the shredded paper soil

and late-night roots, and grow beyond the page’s fog?

3.  They stumble in circles like whirlpools, pulling the mists behind, eyes clouded and cold
and drowning in the ice they make, the shards that stab their hearts
Life-force dripping into the soft snow forms the words of their struggle:
This cycle will not end
It will be born again with you, with another, unknown
Pain and love will always be visible to us
    It is the pattern that pulls them together, threatening to tear them apart– again

____________________________

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Hope is Gone, by Kwame Grayson

Hope is Gone, by Kwame Grayson


Voice, by Kwame Grayson

Voice, by Kwame Grayson


The Sea Calls My Name, by Brandon Haut

Crashing Whitecaps, by Brandon Haut

 

I stand at its edge

While its powerful show

Comes to lap at the shore

With its ebb and its flow.

Sometimes it’s stilled;

Others unrest.

Quiet as it’s kept,

But lurking between

The in and out tide

Hides a force to be reckoned with.

And the sea calls my name

With a vigorous plow

Of violent winds

And words not shallow.

It thrashes its fists against the coast

And hisses a storm

And beckons me

Forward onto the surf-tormented shore.

“Sail on my wings,” it bellows within,

“And be free of your life of trivial things.

Come sail in the deep and breathe in the blue

For a day and a year or a century or two.

I am old, but can you not see

The likeness between you and me?

I crash and escape

While my mouth is agape,

As do you, who knows not what there is

To really see of me.”

My humble tears

Fall like rain;

Away with all

Forgotten pain.

My memories

Are far and near

Amidst a liquid

Crystal clear

That is the air

That moves the tide;

The atmosphere

I hide inside.