By: Jinmo Koo It was a typical Monday afternoon and I was at the golf course with 3 of my friends. That day, we were unsure whether or not to play as we thought it would rain. We decided to…
By: Anna Knowles I thought I could wash you away,when I twisted the sink’s knob,and the faucet began sobbing into a porcelain bowl;so I plunged my hands under the water andscrubbed until my skin was rash-red and sore. My palms…
By: Soobin Ryu The prose “From a Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man” by Jame Joyce is about the protagonist Stephen Daedalus imagining a visit to the city, where his state of mind of both hope and fear…
By Thomas Sanfilip I have no doubt the modernist painter Robert Delaunay understood the problem of Paris, both as a physical and spiritual entity as well as artistic force capable of creating a profound philosophic dilemma. His series of repeated…
By: Carl Papa Palmer You’d think he’d have learned by now to take a momentbefore blindly grabbing us from his night stand drawer. If he would keep us in another roomwhere he’d have to actually get upit would remedy our…
By: Carl Papa Palmer I never saw him cryno tears of joy or regretnor praise for meno hugs, never kisses always that stiff upper lipever emotionless smilealways to make me strongnever ever a momma’s boy handshakes firm, hurtfuluntil I was…
By: Harrison Abbott They say it will rain today. You wake up before the alarm clock. The GP opens at nine and you wake up shortly after seven. When you open the curtain, a sheen of grey light spreads across…
By: James Aitchison The placid day belies its chaos:a giant web of conflicted men.Only the eternal realityremains absolute: men dwellon an earthly plane,through a series of lives,one following the other,to seek all that which is beautiful.Only through a soul at…
By: Ryan Quinn Flanagan The Irish House Painter (for Brendan Behan) Sky Water Gravy If I should go where names are pluckedfrom golden gongs, the fairy snows there’s briefcase on the stereobriefcase on the stereo don’t stare & lane lanethe…
By: John Caulton ‘Driving up the country lanes The knackermen, we’re here again A farmer’s gate, lift the latch Dispatch, collect another batch’ The dead… Oh, the joys of country living; the smell of sewage sludge, silage and manure! Unfortunately,…