University of San Francisco's Student-Run Literary Magazine
by Ilma Qureshi fireflies can you catch a poem like a firefly?flickering through nettles andrising oak trees,does a poem ever lay still? does wisdomlike ripe plumsfall from branches or does one make senseby drawing watercasket after casketfrom a swollen well? just when you think of life as a beautiful orchidfull of oranges and unknown wonder,your… Continue reading fireflies
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 V.A Wiswell 2022 My earliest memory is of violence. It follows me like a shadow. A lost dog. A nightmare. My sister Katelyn is singing “Landslide” from top to bottom, over and over, as we walk alongside the empty two-lane road after a full day of swimming at the lake. We’re almost home when… Continue reading Landslide
by Sarah Carolan TW: Drowning The peninsula claimed over two hundred ships in as many years. Victims would run afoul on hidden shoals or be driven off course by unpredictable gales. Others overestimated their maneuverability within the narrow, limestone-filled straits. But only one shipwreck, Griffin Lyons, captured Kat’s attention, and she blamed his demise on… Continue reading Lion of the Lake
by Danny P. Barbare At the End of the Mica Asphalt Where the mica asphalt road endsin the brushclear water ebbs in the sandy,muddy shore. Shiny bubblespop. Tree roots gnarl inthe open.The navy blue water iswhite capping near and far.Bass boatsskim with a tiny hum. Thehouse on the hill issurrounded by a grassy yard.It’s a… Continue reading At the End of the Mica Asphalt // The Gazebo Alone
by Daniel Tarker “These reunions are always. . .” I tried to find the right word, but it was elusive. Miserable. Depressing. Death-defying. I finally settled on “unbearable.” I raised my plastic cup of microbrew and added, “the only thing that makes these events bearable is the booze.” Jennifer smiled politely and looked over at… Continue reading Love in a Capitalist Hellscape
by Josephine Clapp You said our world has become a cyclonethe people around usare at the center.Trying to lureus in. You’re wrong. You are the cyclone.Looking into your eyes—somehow feels like reaching outtowards the eye of the stormthat is you and I. Reeking of Sound by Jack Dunnett Josephine Clapp is a freshman at Key… Continue reading Cyclone
Ignatian Literary Magazine 