University of San Francisco's Student-Run Literary Magazine
by Malcolm Culleton Reply to: Ride offered to Dallas 3/19 (UNO) Craigslist ID: grk4x-3685879461 Sunday, March 17th 2013 Hello, I might be interested in riding with you to Dallas. I have spent much of the year traveling the country, have been in New Orleans for a few months now and am about ready to go… Continue reading Ride Wanted
by Jamilla VanDyke-Bailey his name was andrew and he was everything my father wasn’t. tall. angular. dull auburn skin with hands that build. uncle andrew of drive-by drop-bys to fix up my father's house for an underhanded price. now i only know him sick from a disease that eats. his skin now stretched tight across… Continue reading his name [is/was/forever will be] andrew
by Caelan Beard Dear Ruth, My parents live now just a few kilometres from where you grew up. I’ve been past your childhood house with its piano you loved. The mill where your father, Albert, made the family’s livelihood sits across the street, hovering above the Saugeen. Straddling the river is the bridge you used… Continue reading Dear Ruth
by Jackson Connor During my first sophomore year of college, having recently joined the math major after giving up my pursuit of engineering, I spent a lot of time learning how to smoke cigarettes. An old-school autodidact by nature, I mostly learned through observing my peers, my family, and Robert De Niro. Categorically, I figured… Continue reading The Cigarette Artist
by Kyle Lauderman Baileystown never grieved harder than the day Sam Morris let that out-of-towner Ally into his life. Sam Morris was one of us. His grandaddy built Baileystown from the ground up, taking on the inhospitable Nevada terrain and forging this land into the fine, humble town he knew it could be. When Sam’s… Continue reading Mrs. Morris
by Jennifer Love I’d become accustomed to the scalp scent of her bowed head when she knelt in prayer before my perch on her desk, which she’d been doing increasingly often since the death-prediction incident. There was a palm-sized, purple velvet pillow for me up here, adorned with gold tassels and surrounded with precious objects… Continue reading Creature, Stirring
by Keathley Pinney Brown At 2:42 am, she crept toward the stumpunder a sky draped heavy with night.The inlet hummed and rippled, the soundof air winging down the mountains, the ocean windfighting its way inland to the marshy dark. To her right, water lapped at the damp shore and sang a seafoam song. Sand fleas slept… Continue reading Changing Shades
by Nicholas Barnes god, poetry is embarrassing. this electron microscope shows every pore, each curling scar. and jesus, how humiliating. this brittle life of decay. this rhino skin i’m in. i wake in a fevered sweat in the middle of the night. flipping through the waterlogged photo album in my head. the frames are overexposed.… Continue reading typo
by Theo Fox Perhaps it was their sad, triangular eyes, or the way their waddling bodies bobbed in and out of the field of view of his binoculars, but every time Eli settled down amongst the heather-dotted rocks to observe the puffins, instead of feeling voyeuristic he felt exposed. The afternoon ocean smashed into the… Continue reading Convergence
by Richard Weems When the dog bites into my father’s forearm, I am tempted for a moment to intercede. After all, there have to be more ideal points of attack than that tough strip of muscle. My research suggested the belly was the most vulnerable and scrumptious entryway, but, in the end, I defer to… Continue reading Dog Bite
Ignatian Literary Magazine 