University of San Francisco's Student-Run Literary Magazine
Issue 35
by K Roberts They dug up the time capsule ahead of schedule. Loganville High needed a new gym, so the statue of our mascot, Jersey Jerry, was uprooted along with the southeast parking lot and a laptop-sized locked metal box intended to be buried for a century. The treasure chest had lasted 52 years, and… Continue reading Time Capsule
for Chole Kerney by Daniel Barry i remember a runny nose, texting my roommates i’d be leaving and trading them for a suitcase with wheels. i folded all my socks and felt the loneliness, the quiet, the misery of feeling i was the only one in this lone room world. dad tried to book a… Continue reading Scaling My Mind and a Sickness
by Lena Beck 5:50 a.m. Gina filled the kettle with tap water and rested it on the stove coil. After flipping a switch to the left of the stovetop, the coil lightened to a warm red. She pressed her hands together and looked around. Everything else was done. Each square formica table was pristine: napkins… Continue reading Lunchtime at the Spaceworks Cafe
by Jos Burns The shop was carefully arranged, a dimly lit, fragile ecology in the damp evening air. Handwritten price tags dangled from thick cotton string, a casual denial of barcode technology. A few candles burned on a desk in the back, shedding almost as much light as the heavily shaded incandescent lamps. The shop… Continue reading The Transaction
by Sam Moe 1. Two places I can’t trust you with my heart: here, between wet cove rocks, you’re working through the idea of strelitzia reginae in the afternoon, I’m distracted by flower, leaf, low reef, the spindlebeak is blue and between the two of us I think we could outlast the storm. Will you… Continue reading Reckless Compression
by Katherine Hughbanks A bell above the door jingled, announcing Mark’s entrance to the shop. The din of rain and traffic outside hushed as the door stuttered shut, and a peculiar combination of eucalyptus and lilies greeted him, the scents taking up the space of the tiny store. He lowered the soggy newspaper he had… Continue reading The Blossom Shop, 1982
by Alex Starr Time has not even started to take the sky through gradient from absence to navy blue to cobalt already slapped together cars puttering along or behind motorcycles with women sitting both legs on one side as in effigy or remembrance of more than one past century of echelons leaving puffs of smog… Continue reading Rush Hour in the Persistence of Memory
by Robert Stone Finally, or so they thought, they had come to the last room in the house. After months of living like squatters in this grand old place, he said. She said that was just an expression people used. Even so, there was a pile of empty boxes in the hall. Their belongings had… Continue reading Wallpaper
for Philip Levine by Stephen Barile His name is sewn in script On the oval patch over his left breast, Lemon. The shirt-pocket bulges With something kept hidden. Machine oil stains his coveralls. Under a cap, with a metal-buckle, He smiles with very tapered lips That grip his bulging cheeks. Reflecting the sun from a… Continue reading LEMON
by Terence Patrick Hughes Tom Tucker said he saw a dead body but when we got there it was gone. I had been minding my business that early evening outside of the house, transistor radio set against the top riser of the front steps, barely catching the signal of the Red Sox game with enough… Continue reading Tom Tucker’s Dead Body
Ignatian Literary Magazine 