On the way home The sky was gold ribbons and pink lemonade And as the sun dragged down it darkened to a soothing purple. My heart hurt, and the breathing trees sighed and fluttered in the whispering wind at the ending day. I wanted to die; But nothing could be done, at least not with … Continue reading The Summer Ends by Evan Goodfellow
Tag: 2019-2020
syncopation by Diana DeSimine
wait. now abandon your memories, tasks, and questions. look around you. now holds as much significance. transcend. breathe, and become yourself. do you remember how long each day felt as a young child? you are this child. feel. be a witness to clouds, to wind, to passersby, to life. there is glory in all you … Continue reading syncopation by Diana DeSimine
To the last guy I went on a date with,
When I sat down across from you in the coffee shop, quaking and shorn from my comfort zone, I realized that I was wearing the same shirt I wore the last time I saw you. Threadbare, sea-glass green and still smelling of your Aqua di Gio, the scent clogging up my nostrils and tangling in … Continue reading To the last guy I went on a date with,
How to Grow Up by Alexander LePine
Take 1 egg to begin 3 cups of sugar to set you off maybe even 4 (if you're lucky) A dash of bitter herbs as you scrape your knees on the playground for the first time Stir it up with a yardstick And spice with salt and cilantro and habanero to taste Move on with … Continue reading How to Grow Up by Alexander LePine
Lab or Whatever You Call It by Morgan Riccobene
Dissect me. Tear out my insides, call it adapting evolving, part of your biology I squirm, pinned by your processes. Call it science, and I- will call it as it is, Murder me. Keep me captive, I leap free while you all leap to conclusions, like frenzied flies to ponds of sugar water placebo pills. … Continue reading Lab or Whatever You Call It by Morgan Riccobene
Cataclysm by Remy Desai-Patel
From "Drift" by William Preston I remember the day it really started. The city as empty as a stage sprawled before us. One o'clock drifted through, the snow outside stacked on top of cars. I stepped outside and slipped back inside and said, look at this. We stepped outside as a silent symphony of reds … Continue reading Cataclysm by Remy Desai-Patel
Avant Literary Magazine 