On my wrist
is a bracelet
Of the deepest shade of red
Fluid and straight
It stains my skin
And cuts deep into my flesh
Handcrafted with loneliness
And embellished with hate
It glimmers in the darkness
And is masked in the day
A gift
Sent from the boy
Who made my sheets reek
Of black love ...
On Your Wrist
TBD
On my wrist
is a bracelet
Of the deepest shade of red
Fluid and straight
It stains my skin
And cuts deep into my flesh
Handcrafted with loneliness
And embellished with hate
It glimmers in the darkness
And is masked in the day
A gift
Sent from the boy
Who made my sheets reek
Of black love ...
On Your Wrist
TBD
TITLE
NAME
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The Contents of a cabinet
Renee Ferguson
Someone I love so much keeps me up at night. With the banging of cupboards and drawers and the opening and closing of the fridge, with quiet footsteps on carpeted stairs and the sharp squeak of the third stair from the bottom floor. I heard her last Thursday and then I slept out on Saturday but she’s fumbled down the stairs every night this week, too petrified to turn on a light. ..
The Contents of a cabinet
Renee Ferguson
Someone I love so much keeps me up at night. With the banging of cupboards and drawers and the opening and closing of the fridge, with quiet footsteps on carpeted stairs and the sharp squeak of the third stair from the bottom floor. I heard her last Thursday and then I slept out on Saturday but she’s fumbled down the stairs every night this week, too petrified to turn on a light. ..
Grey Bird
A.W. Lion-Cleaver
The grey bird beckons me to join him
Follow me! he says
Follow me!
A nest sprinkled with
Crumbles of ash
Built upon marlboro sticks
and poisonous leaves
Follow me!
Feathers grey, turn grey, turning grey
Feathers with knotted ends
Dipped in black
Feathers rough, turn rough, turning rough
Follow me!
Grey Bird
A.W. Lion-Cleaver
The grey bird beckons me to join him
Follow me! he says
Follow me!
A nest sprinkled with
Crumbles of ash
Built upon marlboro sticks
and poisonous leaves
Follow me!
Feathers grey, turn grey, turning grey
Feathers with knotted ends
Dipped in black
Feathers rough, turn rough, turning rough
Follow me!


title. Edition 01
date. 2017

PHOEBE ZHENG
I Was Born in the USA,
Where I was born
the prisons are not gray.
Where I was born, the inmates do not pray.
Where I was born, the flowers bloom in May,
Inside the prison cells.
Where I was born
we love convicted souls,
For we know they are our children.
And the prisons are not jails,
They’re sanctuaries.
Where I was born the prisons do not
Keep the spirit captive,
No
Prison is where wings are sewn together—
Prison’s where we set the spirit free.
Where I was born the prisons are not sad;
The inmates are not poor;
At every turn we open doors;
Years come and go,
The inmates know
We fight for something noble—
We believe.
Where I was born
the prison hallways lead to freedom.
We don’t have locks for we don’t need them,
We spiral ever higher, toward the stars,
Toward fancy cars,
Dear Lord, when the dream is perfect,
Please don’t wake me.
In prison I fell in love with a mirage;
She was as beautiful as the American Dream,
As sweet as the injection after 50 years of waiting.
Where I was born
the prisoners are fools,
And in that place,
We call the prisons "schools."
By Jean Pineapple




CYNTHIA WU
Memories
When the heart has been torn
And the wrists scarred
and the body burnt to ashes
It is hard not to look back
When the shutters close
And darkness brushes against the skin
and the jaw aches from clenching
It is hard not to think back
When the venom returns to the blood
And the car rides through the mind
and your ears throb from the crash
It is hard not to wish… back
the naked body
cries
The backbone no longer
carries the pain
But hunches in remembrance
The fingers no longer
comb for blood
But are tinted red
And the soul no longer
yearns to escape
But still makes friends with the dead
With time the dagger sinks deeper
And strains the torn heart
and scratches the scarred wrists
and smokes the body’s ashes
by anonymous



ANDREW CUNNINGHAM
“The World’s Gone to Shit”: Opinion Piece by Sarah Flynn
“The world’s gone to shit.”
Beginning in June of 2017, hurricanes have torn through the South and mid-Atlantic. On September 2, over 1,500 acres of land in Los Angeles burned to nothingness. On October 1, 59 were killed and over 489 injured in a mass shooting at a Las Vegas country music festival. On October 2, the mental repercussions of Nevada put the whole campus of the University of Southern California on lockdown. On October 9, ash drops from the sky as Napa and Sonoma flame....

it’s a Sunday night and the silence
is so pure that I doubt my heart still beats
and I stand with her, next to her,
hold her hand as we look over the cliffside
each of those five fingers cling to my hand
and we are still as we wait
wait for a sound, wait for the rustle of wind
to shatter the numbing quiet of this moment
and we are six, we are six years old
and she asks me if I am awake and I say no
each of those five fingers clings to my hand
and our eyes are squeezed closed and I smile
and the magnitude of the silence
imitates the vast expanse of distance to the water
but together we are fearless and together we jump
together we plummet, our hands tangled
and the house is dark and the walls
of our childhood keep us safe as we sink
into the pillow, into a world of subconscience,
into the place without limits, where we belong
and as I fall and as the walls fall around me
I look down and ten small fingers,
ten small fingers are intertwined
as we fall towards the water on a Sunday night
by Renee Ferguson

OLIVIA MARWELL

Big Lies
I hate you
I’m a writer
I enjoy science
I enjoy learning
I practiced violin for a hour
I’ve already emptied the dishwasher
I’m in love with nature
I’m a germaphobe
I’m a neat freak
I hate getting dirty, wet, or sweaty
My dad’s a doctor
My dad didn’t come with us because of work
He performs heart operations at Marin General hospital
He had an emergency patient
I’m 100% certain that I’m straight
I had a thing with this girl over the summer…
I had a thing with this girl named Alyssa…
I had a thing with this girl.
Music and poetry keep me alive
My friends are everything
My homework’s done
I’m a nerd; I’m not athletic; I’m in love with Star Wars
I suffered from extreme anxiety and depression
I don’t really have any mental or emotional problems
For the most part I can always get out of bed
I like having 2 moms
I’m passionate about politics
I’m not a communist
I honestly don’t give a shit
I haven’t cried since 8th grade
I’m sensitive
I’m comfortably numb
I didn’t put gas in the car because you didn’t tell me to
I didn’t break the glass
I’m going to kick his ass
I do a short meditation everyday
My mom is a bitch
I hate my parents
I can’t wait to leave
I don’t love you anymore
I don’t need you
I like lettuce
The Doors are my jam
I’m working on Spanish
I don’t want to run away
Every second of every day
We are in it together
I did it for you
The bags I have to carry are too heavy
I am strong enough
I’m broken hearted
I’m feeling good about it
I’m happy
I’m sad
I’m an arrogant fuck
You’re perfect
I love you
by Jean Pineapple

Confrontation
by Sarah Flynn
hey
it’s me
how are you?
I’ve just been thinking
no, i-
I’ve been worried
no, its just-
are you okay?
what gives me the authority, right?
Who am I to-
I just mean-
is it okay-
after my collar bones carved steep valleys across my shoulders
after my cheeks hollowed and my hair fell like petals
after my skin stretched tightly upon my ribs
and the black underneath my eyes darkened
-to wonder?
is it okay-

PHOEBE ZHENG


It's Not Easy to Say I Love You
it’s not easy to say I Love You
a triangle of words that mean everything but safety
colonized by the man, the same man
always seems to be the same man
when the warmth peaks at sundown
the phrase squirms between the lips
begging to see the world,
wrong You.
maybe one day it’ll make sense
why eagerness can so easily be stolen
when a muscle is ossified
don’t think about the world
don’t try to rationalize how all
the colors on body
and the urges between legs
glossy pages know best what is best
the barrels know where to aim
whiteness knows what assimilation means
take off the white polo and be safe
the ensemble of words doesn't sound quite right
and won’t understand systems for many years
the depth of the promise can’t be realized
if the boat is anchored to the sky
one cannot break a promise
fathers can tell when the man
will always be the same man
even when he’s just a boy
but one day it might make sense
even if she makes her home in a cage
even if the words are never whispered
holding her hand might be enough to make you see
who You is really supposed to be
by Isabelle Khoo-Miller
STRAT TOLMIE

OLIVIA MARWELL



STRAT TOLMIE


Where’s My Soul
Where’s that God-damned
Thing
That used to be my soul
Where the fuck did I leave
It and why the hell do
Veterans pay toll
The monster sucked
Them down its throat
And barfed them up in Hell
Many revenants
Imbued with many graces
The blood that pours off all
Their dying faces
Fills the ocean
Below that
Bridge they can’t afford
You have been lying
America
Growing up is just
A stage of dying
I can never keep
The envelope nice
If the truth were only
Tattered
On the edges.
by Jean PineApple
VIOLET BORDIN

*all doodles by Andrew Cunningham and Olivia Marwell