University of San Francisco's Student-Run Literary Magazine
by William Watson No matter how much I try to savour the taste of my rich life, I stall. Yet time continues. After anguishing over a date change, I question why I fail to transform with the passing minutes, the hydration and thirst of my body, and the rising and setting of the sun. I’m… Continue reading The Fly, the 8 Ball, and Me
by Sean MacPhee So, Abby, there’s this boy. There’s this scarf he has. It’s a little big, a little thick, a little soft. Turquoise, which he supposes is his favorite color. It’s four hours away and about four years old, knitted by a girl who he loved with as much of his little fourteen-year-old heart… Continue reading Scarfy
by Jessie Jen The itch is somewhere deep inside. I like to imagine it’s a living creature that needs air, that absorbs the oxygen in my blood and releases little burps of gas that drift and drift to just beneath the surface, dotting my fingers with little blister-like bubbles. They ooze clear liquid when I… Continue reading Some Kind of Parasite
by Samantha Backlund-Clapp Someday I will go to california for real, drown in the chopped lines and party particulars, observe blankly how the rough mountains dance in the ripples of heat, and cook myself dead on the miles of unending american asphalt. I will make my way to the golden state, and I will write… Continue reading Inciting Incidents
by Stone Mims To Mwila, C.T, N.R. and other Black students: As you walk across the stage on this mild, Michigan afternoon, I feel an immense pride; I feel an immense sadness. This double consciousness results from the complicated situation of your coming of age. On one hand, as I look into your bright, young… Continue reading A Letter to My Students
by Theo Halladay I showed a photo to my roommates the other day. It was taken two years ago, a full-body portrait of my brother and I dressed in traditional Thai clothing: stiff, mandarin-collared shirts with etched Sanskrit on the buttons, elaborate wrap pants, tall socks. It was my aunt’s wedding, and like any of… Continue reading ฉันรักคุณและฉันขอโทษ
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 Sam Moe The night after my grandmother’s funeral, while I’m half-asleep on her faded gold couch in the living room, where below our fourth-floor apartment are people screaming, and singing, and laughing, in the distance there are sirens and more laughter—I hear someone—or something—lean into my ear and sigh once, loudly. * Ghosts. Poltergeists.… Continue reading Ghost City
by Angela Townsend If my world shrinks to all that my arms can carry, Monsieur Dupont shall be saved. Along with my mother’s quilts and my hard drive, I will salvage the wiry Gund hedgehog from 1986. He is six inches of plush and polyfill. He is an important Frenchman. He is language and longing… Continue reading Monsieur Dupont
by Carl Boon The pictures prove our parents were young, with neat clothes and unscarred skin. The pictures prove they did things: picnicked at sundown among yellow-studded Pennsylvania hills, stood in line on Friday afternoons at the First National Bank, paychecks in hand, and drove Pontiacs, their destinations sometimes unclear, their Amoco maps folded incorrectly.… Continue reading Notes For Our Parents
Ignatian Literary Magazine 