It is the first day of autumn

Illustration by Meher Hans. — Oriana Tang is a senior in Saybrook College.

Illustration by Meher Hans. — Oriana Tang is a senior in Saybrook College.. . . Read more
Oriana Tang
close proximity to a god of the industrial workforce

me and god, we took three trains to get from one side of the city to another in those long rambling railway hours we exchanged the words of               lovers oh ! but god’s                                  … Continue reading close proximity to a god of the industrial workforce

me and god, we took three trains to get from one side of the city to another in those long rambling railway hours we exchanged the words of               lovers oh ! but god’s                                     laughter! oh ! but god’s                                    whispers! there was something more than love. . . Read more
Sohum Pal
Anatomy of Observation

Open up your coffers and caress air Rugged waters and minerals leap to grasp peach skies Remember the geometry of birds was never meant to appeal to you. You, small observer, trust these blissful aromas.   Unfold the machinery of your heart. Cosmic stories are written into the spaces you’ve forgotten to fill. Below the … Continue reading Anatomy of Observation

Open up your coffers and caress air Rugged waters and minerals leap to grasp peach skies Remember the geometry of birds was never meant to appeal to you. You, small observer, trust these blissful aromas.   Unfold the machinery of your heart. Cosmic stories are written into the spaces you’ve forgotten to fill. Below the jade currents are golden silts. Follow full and follow slowly.   You, ocean of a man, lower your tide and see how the sand around you dries. Expose anchors of. . . Read more
Fernando Rojas
From a Dark House

The sky keeps its service, does not open. There is no sun but no rain either. Dusk moves fast— I do not see the shadows fade Child of early night, I long to see you Know this first of all: I will not hurt you I am like a star, but less warm There is … Continue reading From a Dark House

The sky keeps its service, does not open. There is no sun but no rain either. Dusk moves fast— I do not see the shadows fade Child of early night, I long to see you Know this first of all: I will not hurt you I am like a star, but less warm There is no planet orbiting my center and my planet has no star— cast into the void, a silence takes hold Thank you for still listening. I love you but not without. . . Read more
Dimitri Diagne
Late October

On the couch together, in the casual light of the afternoon, my legs draped across her, and both of us sipping tea, she reached to brush a bit of dirt from my forehead, only it wasn’t dirt, it slipped back up into my hair, and neither of us wanted to believe it, but it was … Continue reading Late October

On the couch together, in the casual light of the afternoon, my legs draped across her, and both of us sipping tea, she reached to brush a bit of dirt from my forehead, only it wasn’t dirt, it slipped back up into my hair, and neither of us wanted to believe it, but it was true, I had been scratching for days. So, because I wasn’t home for long, with no time to waste, we did the whole thing, just as in childhood: bathed my. . . Read more
Anna Sudderth
Old Lyme

Someone in the classroom has written their report on Lyme disease, and speaks with earnest gravity about prevalence, arthritis, the climate, guinea fowl. Talented birds: they hunt lawns, peck at the stone walls, eating ticks like potato chips. The presenter calls this the urban legend of Martha’s Vineyard. Now we look back at the deer, … Continue reading Old Lyme

Someone in the classroom has written their report on Lyme disease, and speaks with earnest gravity about prevalence, arthritis, the climate, guinea fowl. Talented birds: they hunt lawns, peck at the stone walls, eating ticks like potato chips. The presenter calls this the urban legend of Martha’s Vineyard. Now we look back at the deer, all of the deer and dogs and white-footed mice. We switch slides, go through our neighbors with the same afflictions, all watching the ground with sideways eyes. Here they are:. . . Read more
Olivia Noble
Sun

Back before I knew the politics of walking with your chin up When I was bright eyed and 20/20’d I’d sneak to the outer orbit of the playground nestle myself between the comets and leftover kickballs and watch the sun sing itself purple Like a tuning fork wobbling into place, The sun would sway somewhere … Continue reading Sun

Back before I knew the politics of walking with your chin up When I was bright eyed and 20/20’d I’d sneak to the outer orbit of the playground nestle myself between the comets and leftover kickballs and watch the sun sing itself purple Like a tuning fork wobbling into place, The sun would sway somewhere between sapphire and emerald Shedding stained glass over my sight It was a parade for the patient…and the reckless for the kids who wait till greenlights to play hopscotch the. . . Read more
Sidney Saint-Hillaire
Two Poems

ROOTING DOWN It sounds like a room of tiny bells, the wind coming in through a small, stained window Butterfly shells pucker their lips and recede White birds bury orange beaks in the folds of their chests We are in a rounded world sun setting into darkened line between water and air You are wearing … Continue reading Two Poems

ROOTING DOWN It sounds like a room of tiny bells, the wind coming in through a small, stained window Butterfly shells pucker their lips and recede White birds bury orange beaks in the folds of their chests We are in a rounded world sun setting into darkened line between water and air You are wearing rose on your wrists, in your hair And I am staring as the clouds swallow the sun whole SNOW ON THE AIRPLANE WINDOW It rains, and all for you, Of. . . Read more
Rachel Kaufman
On a Tuesday

Here, now, a half-dozen people are nearly touching one another under the rubble of the Salvation Army thrift store. By evening, I have exhausted the coverage. There’s a photo of a family standing at the edge of the cluttered lot. To their left, an excavator rests with its head down. Dust coats the daughters’ hair. … Continue reading On a Tuesday

Here, now, a half-dozen people are nearly touching one another under the rubble of the Salvation Army thrift store. By evening, I have exhausted the coverage. There’s a photo of a family standing at the edge of the cluttered lot. To their left, an excavator rests with its head down. Dust coats the daughters’ hair. They’ll be gone as soon as the light changes. Their car is just around the corner; with the walls gone, you can see it. What surrounds the car is full. . . Read more
Griffin Brown
Kookaburra Sits in the Old Gum Tree

A poem by Rachel Yalowitz

I was the shadow of the Kookaburra hanging on my windowpane. The glass superimposed my toothless smile onto the blue crescent of his wing. When his eyes overlapped mine, I revealed my teeth in laughter, and he echoed me in a round. I laughed louder; he cackled and called me insane, but I was the shadow of the Kookaburra slain. Kookaburra sits on a rusty nail but where is the hammer, where is the axe that turned the old gum tree into the window frame.. . . Read more
Rachel Yalowitz