Updated: Nov 5, 2019
Audrey Molnar '19
Can you call for me when the tea pot whistles your song? Can you drive me towards, and through, and under, maybe, the curtain on the wall? Can you draw me a picture of the last time you smelled home? Or the last time you opened the refrigerator and saw something you wanted? When the sun sets in the east and the crickets lay down their anxious chirping and sing a song instead. When the teapot whistles that song. Will you paint it for me?
Anonymous / 12 That last day I walked those halls, I memorized, in my head, every sight and smell -- Stored it like a sacred star. And saw those vested men from afar As they began to crush and fell Th
Hannah Myers / 10 (BARE staff) I walk into the Ohio feather-leafed forest, my feet crackling with each step, the dead bodies of old green lying on top of moist-gut soil ready to be decomposed into dir
Jack Son / 12 The shape of water geometric automation of fluid vested upon all but itself unveils workings of gaia beneath and reflects essence unseen Geometric fabric of tao threads fates of predeter