University of San Francisco's Student-Run Literary Magazine
by Joel Bush Scooping two dead ducklingsout of the pool filter,I feel a weightmuch heavier thantheir few ounces inmy hands.I have no bettergrave for their brownand yellow bodiesthan a plastic bag and trash can.Their mother has flownaway, while I’m groundedwith her children. Garden State by Jack Dunnett Joel Bush reads things. He also writes things.… Continue reading Weight
by Heikki Huotari The anthem is a function of the feedback, Jimi Hendrix, may your serenade goout untamed. You may have won a hundred years a hundred years ago. Therepartee has been upgraded, that's what they say. Put the entities together in aroom and they'll sing kumbaya in unison. The power outage was the doing… Continue reading Everything Except The Carbon Sink II
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 JC Alfier From the river that received his ashes like alms,my father stands at his workbench, tinkers in the service of the lesser angels now,heaven acceding his need for a 40-watt bulb cornered away from the radiant surge of Shekinah glory.Departed souls about him will get used to the dimness, study him putzing about… Continue reading Tradesman
by Mallory Rader For Sabrina I drop your daughter onto her bed with a plunk. You are a daughter. I am a daughter. We joke about being each other’s mother. She wants to be a baby again. I touch something mythological in the air. Your toddler clenches her eyes shut, puts a thumb in her… Continue reading For Sabrina, For Riley
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
by Laine Derr At 51, recalling a weathered father,I order a gin martini, light vermouthw/ a twist. He froze to death on a daylike this, a man no longer a man– The crisp air reminds me of him. Swirling memories, the doctors saypain has tunneled to my wrists, yearsof standing up, bagging and checking,paper or… Continue reading Light Vermouth
by Jong Yun Won For four months I walk the streets of Incheondesperate for egg rolland sour kimchi-jjigae.So stricken by diaspora without a recipeI land in YouTube, watch a fifty second clipof a white woman teach me culture.How wretched.You roll the egg onto itselfwhich makes a cloud-like textureas long as you know how heat works.You… Continue reading Gae-Lan-Mari
by Sylvester Kwakye Before you kiss a reptile, be sure your lips are dead. before the picnic started,a viper had kissed her calf but she kept discussinghow it tasted her endurancewas soon a heart attack a face filled with rivuletof demise that little creature was goneforever. to begin a new life our doubts saw its… Continue reading Before you kiss a reptile, be sure your lips are dead.
by Mariam Ahmed where do dreams gowhen we awaken? they dissipate intounknown dimensions a portal opens siphoningair from my lungs why is it harder to breathewhen I’mwith you? my oncewild thoughts turning stale quick afteryou spoke so soft leave my bleeding hearton this tray table I’m in no upright position when the oxygenmask fallsI won’t reach for it the barest… Continue reading Saturation: A Sequence
Ignatian Literary Magazine 