A MEMORY IMMORTAL

Christina Ding

Centuries ago, I was revered, My influence vast, my very name feared. Thousands of temples, how they carved my name. Thousands of people who witnessed my fame.

Who in the land of black fertile soil Has not beheld the proof of my toil? Like the flow of the Nile, my followers sing, For I am their pharaoh, their immortal king.

Gaze upon me now, simply a relic, In the afterlife, a spirit angelic. Yet merely a memory of forgotten reign To those who only perceive my pain.

Now broken and battered, eroded and worn My authority shattered, my honor torn. Now who could see my former glory? When they look at me now, what is my story?

When we move on from the land we love Can we control our future from up above? Can I ever become the pharaoh of the past? Or was my name never meant to last?

I LOVE YOU SO MUSH | EMILY MCSHANE | ANIMATION

Queer Magnetism

Annie Hurley

almost every friend that I’ve ever had has been queer, even before we knew what the word meant. a statistical impossibility, but perhaps it is like this: we are magnets, drawn to each other. non-parallel lines, bound to intersect. a mathematical certainty. planets that find themselves caught in the same orbit, both pulled in by all-encompassing grasp of gravity.

(we will find each other every time.)

AUTUMN Christina Dong

Today a leaf dropped Into my hand

Painted bright orange

Like the rest of the land

It had made its way down

From an old oak tree

And went floating off

To visit me

Then suddenly

The wind whipped around

It tussled my hair

And the leaves on the ground

It whistled its song

Like the howl of a ghost

Then took my book

The one I liked most

It tugged at the oaks

And dropped a bird’s nest

And laughed sneakily

While performing its jest

Then it flew away

Back up to the sky

And called out once more

As if saying goodbye

The whistle died down

The harsh winds stopped

And all that was left

Was the leaf that was dropped

LANTERNS | VICKY SANTANA | ACRYLIC AND COLORED PENCIL

GRIEVOUS GOLD, OMINOUS ORE

Angelina Dong

All that glitters isn’t gold, What may be perceived isn’t always true Like a burning desire you try to hold, That escapes your clutch, falling through. The moon that glitters through the night, Too soon obscured by the light of day. A wish upon a star, still within sight, Only to escape, flying away. But if you take this risk, this golden chance Before it withers, a moment, merely fleeting A short-lived dream, a passing glance. Then follow these words, for they are worth heeding. Be wary of this gold, a precious ore. For it might have misfortune lying in store.