ROOTSby Brett Van Vort

I find it especially relaxing to look at the trees.I stare at them in the fall,I stare at them in the spring.But my favorite is in the winter,When they dance in the crisp night wind.

I hear the sound of the wind rise,Like a call from the trees to look.I see their leaves glimmer in the breeze,And sway softly against the blue sky.

Yet my favorite is in the winter.When they are bare and exposed.Covered is sparkling frostFrozen in a humbling pose.

I feel secure walking on a path lined with trees.It reminds me of the street I grew up on.There was an Old Tree I used to sit under,In a field across from my house.I would lay under it for hoursStaring at the veins that protruded into the sky.There was so much meaning in those moments.With my fast changing life-I felt that moment would last forever.Despite the ongoing strife.

Yet here I am,Hundreds ofmiles away from my Old Tree,Surrounded by so manyYet none mean as much to me.

Cover Art By: Susa Breese

I ssue #1 presented by: Kelsey Talbutt, Susa Breese, Aaron Ayala, Brett VanVort, Emma Levensohn,

Macy Weymar, J ennifer Wilkey, and Evan Coleman.

THE DOORKNOB

by Evan Coleman

Once upon a time there was a man with a small

doorknob growing from his head. Wherever he walked he felt eyes

longing to turn the handle, saw friends pretend not to notice, saw

the mailman refuse to acknowledge the doorknob’s presence as it

protruded from his forehead, slightly to the right and up, its soiled

brass base permeated through his pale skin. He had played out the

countless scenes in his mind the knocks of knuckles asking is

there anyone home? The endless puns involving keys and locks

and vacancies, and even a dream in which men the size of

Lilliputters from Gulliver’s Travels had posted for sale signs from

his hair, and inhabited his facial orifices.But one day he locked

eyes with a one-toothed girl. She gazed back from her small

wheeler.The two smiled, then laughed.And the baby girl walked

over to him. She pulled on his face, stretching out his many

wrinkles, and as she did the man realized that there was no

doorknob, that there had never been a doorknob.

FAMILY POEM

by Willow Beavis

My grandfather taught me blue

Like the ocean and the sky

The beauty of fresh air and salt spray

His hands were calloused from the ropes

My grandfather taught me white

The color of billowing sails

And the clouds beyond the shore

The sea his realm

My grandfather, the source ofmany ofmy joyful memories,

Lost all of his in time

And slowly drifted away

Like a boat from the dock, the sails not yet caught by the wind.

By: Diana Weymar

ENDLESSLYby Gavin Scott

Cold, tired and hopeless I wandered on.. .

Its been a while now

the creeping dark shadows

twisting, turning.

Trying to give me the answer.

But they are speechless,

silent voices scream to me.

Yet I cannot hear their secrets,

Cold windy pavement goes on relentlessly.

Evidence of civilization,

shouting in the distance.

Slowly reaching inside

cold blackness of skin and bones

allowing a small flame to thrive.

hope.

It illuminates the blackness

closer, closer, closer.

MOMMY PLEASEAnonymous

Mommy what are you doing.

Put your cup down, please

The other parents are looking

Don’t you care?

Maddie and her mom are leaving

Doesn’t that matter?

Mommy where is my cake

I ts supposed to be

My special day

Mommy stop can’t you see its hurting me

Watch me blow out my candles

Watch me for once

Put down your cup now

N ow, oh please mommy

Stop fal l ing, stop laughing

J ust watch me

I t’s my day

Mommy love me please

For once just look and smile.

Tel l me what ‘s real ly wrong.

Stop numbing yourself with that drink that ki l ls

That drink that is tearing you apart

I love you no matter what

J ust stop

BE THE LEAFby Abbie Ward

Orange leaves cascade

Encasing the ones around

Consuming spirits

By: Lawson Lin

by Kristine Bailey

I have run over

your skateboard

that was on

the driveway

and which

you were probably

planning

to ride with friends

forgive me

but if you had brought it in

like mom asked 5 times

it would not now be

so crushed

and so broken

By: J ennifer Wilkey

FIRST SNOWby Macy Weymar

The first snow of the year was on a Saturday. We all eagerly pulled onour snow pants, hats, mittens, snow jackets, the works. As we ran outside, theseven-year-old in all of us began to show. We flopped down on our backs andmade snow angels, not caring that cold melting snow crept down our necks.The snow danced down, covering the back yard in a perfect white blanket.Snowflakes decorated our eyelashes and wild hair.

The dog was unsure at first what to make of the white fluff. It was herfirst snow, and she was unsure what to think. Then, she slowly and gingerlywalked into the inches of snow. Realizing this weird white stuff held no threatto her, the previously ruffled hair on the back of her neck smoothed downagain. Snowflakes caught on her fuzzy puppy fur and she jumped around. Sheleft little paw prints in the snow like a trail of breadcrumbs. All cautiousnesswas gone. She chased the small snowballs we threw, only to pounce on asmall heap of broken snow. She tried biting snowflakes and catching them inher mouth, and the shock was clearly visible on her face when they meltedinto cool water in her mouth. She didn't know the name for this weird stuffthat was falling from the sky, but she knew she loved it. She pranced aroundus as we made mini snowmen and plowed through them like Godzilla. Weblew visible breaths like a dragon breathing fire, and our freedom had nolimit. We played until our mittens were soaked, our noses were red, and hairsoaked. Reluctantly, we went back in, wishing we could spend all day outside,in the bliss of the first snow.

ODE TO BOREASby Aaron Ayala

O Boreas, Boreas, god of cold Northern gusts,

Leather wings, rotten grin; your rule is unjust.

Your invasion has started, your annex begun,

With first fall of snow, your first thread is spun.

Smear the sky black with charcoal, turn the earth pallid white,

Let tyrannical rage feed you newfound delight.

Drive man deep underground, constrain your seat in throne,

Freeze earth and hell over; make them both your new home.

Just remember one simple, little thing please,

When your kingdom is melting, and you're brought to you'reknees;

Wise men say all is fleeting; yes, this does include you,

All the things that I tell you I promise are true.

Memento mori repaid by your grace alone,

Man shall be Nero, set ablaze your rime Rome.

But for now tinker freely, take great joy in our dread,

And sleep sweetly tonight, with no price on your head.

By: J ennifer Wilkey

ARIZONAHEATby Kristine Bailey

Ground burning my feetFlames rising from the cacti

The desert in me

By: Diana Weymar

BURNING BONFIREby Brandon Nelson

Sitting by the sea

In the soft sand

Listening to your favorite band

You feel so free

At the burning bonfire

Talking to your friends

Stalked in the peaceful night

By the bugs that surround the fire

In a display of peaceful flight

At the burning bonfire

It radiates warmth on you

From the cool sea breeze that pinches you

Off into the dark beyond

Where the light can’t reach

At the burning bonfire

The fire draws in the soul

Of the past and blues

Though the pop and crackle

Reassures ofwhat makes you

Oh the burning bonfire

THE MATCHSTICKby Brett Van Vort

There was the soft scent of cinnamon-

As she placed her oatmeal raisin cookies in the oven.

Her eyes soaked with love,

Every beat of her heart towards her broken son.

Her heart ignited in the sun.

Her soul flickered in the rain.

She was as patient as a candle,

Holding the weight of the world as a flame.

In my dark cave,

You showed me it was in fact a tunnel.

You strung lights that shined like beacons.

And I found my way out.

In my next loneliness

I will remember the sweet aroma of cinnamon.

As I know your everlasting love for me, your kin.

When it was dark I only knew sin.

Like a candle that never goes out.

I finally feel your light within

By: J ennifer Wilkey

DO I KNOW MYSELFby Aaron Ayala

Sometimes,you feel so alone in the universe.

Without Hellos or hugs, without pats on the back,you start to question your own worth.

Maybe, when the pressure starts building,

When the walls start mounting and it seems bleakest and blandest,

That's when you must look inward.

Look to your own accomplishments and dreams and visions, knowthat they are no one else's.

Your own living breathing existence,

Deeper you may delve, scared you may get,

But be calm, please, don't fear yourself.

Get to know these cave walls, etch your name, play with lightpuppets and dance in its grandeur.

All you have is yourself, your spirit and being.

Love your part of the universe.

Love being enormous and grand, one followed by however manyzeros of atoms and leptons and quarks and tiny bacteria beings,

all a part of you,

Love being minuscule and humbled, a creature in a country on aplanet in a solar system, so on so forth,

This is love for life, to be able to zoom in and out and be happy sseeing any angle or position.

Do not fear the lone expedition of these realms so unfamiliar.

Only ask,

Do I know myselfwell enough to be good company on the way?

PRIMARY COLORSby Susa Breese

My sister taught me red

Her childish excitement abounded through my grey heart

I had given up on the colors I knew,

Rejected the tradition of a painted face.

My sister taught me blue

Her calm when listening to the words in a story

She colored in the blank spaces in the coloring book.

My sister taught me yellow

With a hug and a smile, I forgot the years without.

The primary colors I failed to understand

She taught me to keep painting.

By: Susa Breese

WHERE ONCE THE GREAT OAK STOODby Jesse Sataloff

When one’s autumn begets to winter,

‘fore the leaves begin to fall,

when the fire leaves to asheswith no ember there to tell

of the roots once inhabiting

or the burning once occurred.

When this, dear friend,

O poor, poor friend,

when this perchance befalls,

curse not the wretched twisted winds,

ofwinters endless blight.

Nor cast into the hapless masses,

of dreary dark, and weary ashes,

an everlasting spite.

For though you tremble midst

Winters gale,

and though for warmth

your body wails,

this very spot to myriad past,

gave warmth of life,

and once shelter cast.