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Aerial Edition 10

Aerial Edition 10

Aerial Edition 10

"Spinning" by Anina Yang '26

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"Leave Me Alone" by Sabine Fuchs '25

Anna Han '24

Anna Palfy '23

Chloe Thiessen '23

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"Titan’s Oxymoron"

Madison Esrey

made-up Tragedy cheekily bows from masks of cracked stone, 

soil-black and omniscient rain washing away salesmen’s tears

falsified Comedy drolly drops curtains of white lace and paler powder,

adding their own choreographed spins to the thunderous applause

 

so cry at weddings and laugh at funerals

and dance to the furious scritch-scratching of the present

nothing is important and everything means everything

so don’t forget how October tastes and don’t remember yesterday

 

fear the poets, for if their heads are as heavy as they claim

their tongues would not dance to the encores so deftly

one eye downcast and the other on the horizon

always paints a blurred amalgamation of what they think they were

 

but listen if they solemnly share the tales of their broken shoulders,

earthquakes rattling them so frequently babes doze against their heartbeat

the muses have long since passed, but Atlas remains stagnant;

his immortal, immoral plight champions on.

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Kaitlin Gasner '23

Carter West '24

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Paloma Rincon '23

"Eternally Underserving" 

(anonymous)

 

so I’ll learn to wake up next to myself

I’ll pull the blanket over her head

and I’ll use the measuring cups when I make her 

breakfast.

I’ll drink my eight glasses of water

she’ll have a coffee at three,

and I’ll sing her lullabies

when she can’t sleep.

she yawns, her eyes twitch,

she is tired, but the noise keeps her awake

so I’ll earn her trust

and I’ll mess with her head,

I’m a parasite, yes, but aren’t I my own?

feeding on her ruin

"Adventures with G-Ma" by Zach Olrich '23

Jeffrey Huang '23

"chinatown: reconstruction"

Yoga Weng

 

and when my dad drives he spills
place behind him, trail
to barred off storefronts and the banana republic and
signs bleached empty, always white,
save for the last recollection of a saturday, picking at the peeled edges, sunburnt
entrances made exits of blurry understandings
underlined by a father’s certainty.
unreality:
restaurants like basements (where things get lost), gold plastic
advertisements taunting and railings caked with bodies and
parking lots
a carcass of red.
remembrance as fiction
smudging into death like present tenses and sleeping
how names do, curled like paper slips
in the mouth, tongued stopper on scarred throat, swallowing
unseen but there once, definitely.
when last monday,
was yesterday was last week,
chinatown sky a silence so blue
天*, as in above mortality, the way
incense cradles memory,
rot and all
temporary.


*天 (tian), which generally and colloquially refers to the sky, is also often

translated as having a double meaning with “heaven.” notably, this

construction of heaven is different from the commonly used western
construction, and can be translated more like above the mortal world, above

mortality, or as meaning something natural, innate, or also as celestial

bodies, spirits, phenomena, amongst other things.

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Simone Carr '25

Patricia DePalma '23

Anna Han '24

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