Poetry + Photography
Poetry + Photography
Where the Evil Resides
- Troy Henly
There is a stranger in the mirror
I don’t know that guy
He is staring at me
With darkness in his eyes
Not me!
I walk with my head held high
At least that is what I thought
But every time I look
I start to become more and
more
Like that guy
There is no running
Nor can you hide
The darkness you deny
Trembling from that guy
He’s already inside.

Untitled - Justin Weber

Untitled - Zac Rineer
You Don’t Have to Die and Go to Heaven
- Will Weaver
The smell of toast in the morning,
Buttery, crunchy, and sweet.
The sky glows bright, birds soar chirping.
Lustrous, peaceful, pure mystique.
As noon arrives, a storm comes crashing,
Threatening, drenching, nature’s treat.
The tempest fades; pavement glistening.
Reflecting, gleaming, and sleek.
As night falls, stars start swirling.
Pulsating in a wild beat.
Ancient prayers bring a blessing,
Love stirs from somewhere deep.
Earth subsist with Heaven fleeting,
Until you die, you will seek.
Are you inspired to believe?

Radio - Mateen Kane
Canine Senses
- Will Stocksdale
At the end of a long, white muzzle – a compass.
A wet, black nose guiding every step.
It points toward a dead bird, hidden in brush.
Scraggly whiskers like antennae
Dot a pink speckled cheek.
They brush over with each nudge.
Tall brown ears stand on end
With knowledge that someone has arrived back home,
Long before the door cracks its seal.
When on the facade, it appears everything is fine.
He knows, and arrives to comfort and console.
He may have poor eyesight but sees better than I ever will.
The Easter Bunny’s Dead
- Tucker Lippenholz
Tire tracks lead away from the scene.
Supine, hit by a car now onto the next town,
An animal lies with blood spewed beside cracks and in between.
Many onlookers stand around.
Crowds cry out, craving that the crash is not what they dread but
the Easter Bunny’s dead.
The treasured rabbit gave out.
As has the dreams of
the next generation.
Tears ensue and will never end,
no doubt.
Ruined imaginations and deceased mutations make for
a poor combination.
Not a soul has aspiration for what is ahead since
the Easter Bunny’s dead.

Three Houses - Kyle Engle
Silence of Life
- Michael Risser
“Baby shoes for sale. Never worn.”
–Ernest Hemingway
Silver wheels from stretchers roll across
the linoleum hospital floors.
Doctors in blue scrubs scramble
as machines beep continuously.
The emergency room is ear-splitting.
Though, the mother in the bed
hears nothing.
Her long, wavy, blonde hair is frazzled.
Her tan, young, skin has lost its charm
and is replaced with a screeching red.
Her blue eyes, as deep as the ocean,
are like glass that is
about to shatter at any moment,
unleashing the power of the seas.
A current of tears roll like a river
down her face,
falling like rain onto
the lifeless child in her arms.
She cradles the child,
wanting to wake it.
Silence.
She softly calls its name.
Silence.
The only thing she hears
is the thumping,
of her own beating heart.
She screams out for her child.
The agony,
the pain,
the emptiness
in her voice,
floods the hospital.
Her scream drowns out the bustle of the hospital.
Everything stops.
She sits there, panting, staring
at her nine months of hard work.
In the eye of the storm;
Complete and utter
Silence.

Unnamed - Hunter Cook


Untitled - Nate Canapp
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Untitled - Justin Layug
Night Crane - Cole Hospelhorn

Untitled - Win Adkins
I Have Had Writer’s Block All of High School
- Ian Williams
My pen lines lay scribbled all over
paper, like a maze of imagination
Personally, I do not have writer’s block
Someone else’s burden has been
Placed upon me
An unfamiliar burden
To me, it is a void
Empty space, where
I can’t even put words on paper
No words, no notion
My hands lay stock-still
With no ingenuity powering their movement
Everything is blurred
I have writer’s block

Little Bird
- Sammi Somarriba
Hello little bird.
Where are all your friends?
Should I expect more of them
before the morning ends?
I love when you visit me
In the warm humid weather.
When when you fly away,
you always leave a feather.
Plant Genocide
- Jack Janson
From a pot shaped cell it stands,
stretching its malnourished green limbs
to consume stray scraps of bland sunlight.
On enemy soil, in soil of the enemy,
its rotting roots remain chained to thick prison walls.
It sullenly stares through
the barbed wire screen
at a cramped garden of colorful comrades
that proceed to lose yet another battle.
With amber leaves it weeps for
its peaceful culture, hopelessly fighting
against a power-hungry cult of nationalist.
A prisoner of war that acts as a slave
for the Nazi that drowns it in chemicals.
It will perish like the rest.
The American Dream - Joe O'Neill

Untitled - Brock Pivec
Makeshift Trophy
- Sean Tisdale
The Stubby base
thins out to a narrow top.
The light that cast upon it
illuminates the light green ceramic body
with color resembling a penny that has been oxidized.
When I admire it, I see a story the world will never hear.
I see the tears of the losers and the joy of the winners.
I see the brotherhood that comes with this sea-green accolade and its vast
interior which contains the memories of a young man’s adolescence.
I see a gathering of friends bonding over an experience,
and the trophy that they all have won.

Arcade Memory - Jack Janson
The Star is a Lantern
- Mateen Kane
On the third level of a wooden shelf lies a ball of spikes.
Jagged, it can prick the skin to spite the gentlest touch;
you could feel its sharpness with gloves on.
And to those with fragile skin, I wish them luck.
If you were to look to the sky at night
and wonder what it would be to hold a star in your hand,
that is exactly what I have in front
of me, it is still the spike ball,
but also a star, complex and grand,
But with a latent light.
This star is different from the rest,
for its latent light stays as so unless under agitated control.
Once the spark is lit, you expect it burn eternally
However, time must take its toll.
Let us say you were to pick up this star,
you would find a latch that can be unfastened.
It appears old, rusted and dusty, but you chose to release it.
A candle is revealed, and the staggering mystery is now flattened.
The star’s illusion is undone.
In my first encounter, I too struggled with this star’s meaning.
The star that gleamed with such uniqueness, that I was eager
for an answer.
And once I found it,
there was no shock.
Because, like you, I understand that the Star is a lantern.
Wonder
- Jacob Hauk
I could write a poem
on something deep
But then my words
would seem incomplete.
Your thoughts and desires don’t need to be an eternal feat.
It’s alright if they appear a bit weak
Because without simple thoughts,
no one is complete.
We yearn for the answers to the questions of the world
Yet we die, and never see these wishes fulfilled.
No answers unveiled, and no more time to look
Because now it is our life that has been took.
Only then do we realize what truly matters;
I’m talking about the small moments, the little things.
The ones that seem so insignificant
Yet they are the greatest pieces of our life,
that we wish were never interrupted.
A man is not pleased by the questions he can never answer.
He is pleased by the small answers which he has.
To that I tell you to live with all your might
Don’t make yourself stay awake at night.
Get a good night’s rest so you can seize the day
Because you might never wake up.
Stuck within the eternal slumber
Where no man can wonder.

Night Crane - Cole Hosbelhorn
I Fell Through a Twenty-Foot Deck
- Izaac Hester
It was the fourth of July
So I went to a party
Where the room was jumpin',
To the music that was bumping.
I grabbed two drinks
And walked outside.
With the wind howling, and everybody shouting
No way could I hear it snapping
When I began crashing,
Through the twenty-foot deck.

Sand - Zach Rineer
A Snake
- Kevin Wallner
Adam, I hear you hum at night.
Your soliloquy heard by none but me, on this perfect cool night.
I’ve grown fond of you. Afterall it’s just you and I
I follow from a distance while you scout new homes.
Across the four rivers, through the garden you roam
You label everything you see, but you never notice me, so I lay here silently in the fruited tree.
We toil, you and I both. To feed the garden, it’s my repentance but it’s your oath.
Lavender and vanilla swallow the air like a serpent swallows a mouse. We receive no reward
One fateful night you would.
He, our God
Touches your brown skin. Light so bright it could burn a mortal man’s eyes.
Falling to the ground, you turn to the sky
Right there before me, a miracle I can’t deny.
He made that woman from the white bone of your side.
If he loved us both, and equally
Am I damned to isolation?
Your lust has scorched the air
Your joy, noisome and unfair.
If we were created in his image.
Why are you much cleaner?
Scales seal my salted skin.
But beautiful brown bodies are yours
Two eyes, Two legs
Two people, One me
I gaze at you and fall on one knee.
Why has he forsaken me?
Now I am craftier than any other wild animals he has made
So, when approaching the mate, I could not refrain
From tempting the girl to take “God” in vain.
“He knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like him”
If you were made perfect, you wouldn’t take my offer
Now it’s your sins you put up on the altar.
You are guarded from the garden, which was your dreary fate
Where love means as much as hate.
I was that serpent
I am a snake
“And it repented him, he’d made man on the earth, it grieved him at his heart”
You are a mistake.