Stylus 2016
Stylus is a very unique club, filled with discussions about everything from writing to what is happening in the world today. We would like to thank Peter Colbert for leading the group with a charismatic and incredibly distinct sense of humor. Thanks to Peter and the other great leaders of Stylus, in the 2015-16 edition we have tackled everything from death to heartbreak. Thank you to everyone who sent in their work, and enjoy the book!” ~Stylus
The Stylus Art and Literary Magazine is an annual spring publication by the students and faculty of: The Montclair Kimberley Academy 6 Lloyd Road Montclair, NJ 07042
Front Cover: Evan Hryshko Back Cover: Kate Renshaw-Lewis Printer: DC Graphic Solutions
Stylus 2015 - 2016
Editor-In-Chief
Peter Colbert Leelah Klauber Gus Wallach Evan Hryshko Jonah Zinn
Faculty Advisor
Mr. Stephen Valentine
Layout/Design Editor Literary Editor Art Editor Publicist
Staff Maddie Aitken Defne Akyurek Casey Borella Joelle Crichlow Dorothy Cucci Will Higgins Katie Kunka Caitlin Ladda Audrey Lipson Oliver Pinkwater Matt Rubenstein Tristin Saidi George Schaefer Sofia Szyfer Julia Thompson
Contents Literature
Jonah Zinn Anonymous Jared Brunner Casey Borella Anonymous Anonymous Hope Buchan Anonymous Anonymous Paige Robinson Jonah Zinn Jonah Zinn Matt Rubenstein Anonymous Anonymous Jared Brunner Peter Colbert Leelah Klauber Matt Rubenstein Derek Kleinman Anonymous Hope Buchan
1 Her Radiance 3 Falling 5 then will be the day 7 Prescription 9 To My Grandfather 10 Infatuation 11 Blaring Sirens 13 Torture 15 To the Pretty Girl from The Ocean 17 Instructions On Breaking My Heart 19 Mistress fall 21 Pinocchio in a Pickle/ Children of the Corn 23 The Lonely Sculpture in the Empty Cabin Finds Winter 25 Welcome to the Dream 27 The Absolute Value of Us 29 The Blackened Truth 32 The Last Man on Earth’s Thoughts 34 A New York Subway Station at 10:35 pm 36 White Privilege Flies First Class 38 Accomplishment 40 Flowers 41 Time
Contents Art
Sofia Szyfer Maddie Aitken Hannah Kramer Jay Arora Hannah Kramer Jay Arora Hannah Kramer Hannah Kramer Sofia Szyfer Hannah Kramer Kate Renshaw-Lewis Evan Hyrshko Hannah Kramer Sofia Szyfer Kate Renshaw-Lewis Sofia Szyfer Kate Renshaw-lewis Kate Renshaw-Lewis Kate Renshaw-Lewis Sofia Szyfer Catherine Tsai Hannah Kramer
2 4 6 8 11 12 14 16 18 20 22 24 26 28 30 31 33 35 37 39 40 41
CHAPTER I. Love
Her Radiance Jonah Zinn
If I’m to describe your radiance, I think I’ll also try To fit the ocean in my cup And then repaint the sky I may as well defrost the moon And auction off the sun I’ll weave a daydream in a loom And make all time be done I could go to heaven And the only thing I’d say Is may I see my Goddess now And be with her all day? As living in this place Sadly can’t compare To holding my dear love so tight My fingers through her hair So if I’ve lived a life that’s pure While I was alive Then let me spend eternity With a love I can't describe
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Sofia Szyfer
2
Falling anonymous She has those kind of eyes, The ones that feel like they can go forever, The ones that feel like you can fall in, The ones that make you want to. What if I do fall? Would I feel the world around me shake And feel the terror of losing control As I grab for the walls surrounding me? No. I would feel as if I am wrapped inside clouds Comprised of the words she speaks to me, And they would roll me through her love, Tangling me with the air that tastes like her smile. Like this I would propel downward, Faster and faster and faster. I’d believe that I am floating not falling, Making it that much more painful When I hit the bottom.
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Maddie Aitken
4
then will be the day Jared Brunner
then will be the day then will be the day the day i meet you the day you acknowledge my existence the day you talk to me the day you open up to me the day we feel the connection the day i work up just an ounce of courage to ask you the day you do too the day you make it all worth it the day i realize I’m in love with you the day i feel fulfilled that will be the day. but then will be the day the day that fulfillment fades the day i realize I’m no longer in love with you the day i wonder why it's all worth it the day you do too the day i can’t work up the courage to tell you the day we lose the connection the day i can't open up to you the day we have to talk the day you hate my existence since the day i met you.
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Hannah Kramer
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Prescription Casey Borella
No one ever told me that when a boy wanted me, it would never be for the pure reason of "me". He kisses me because he loves her. I am the pill, but I am not the high. I am the two aspirins you took last night, there temporarily to ease you of your pain, your addiction to the high of her. Isn't this always the case, that the arms you're being held in are longing to wrap themselves around something more familiar? Maybe our tongues will touch but you and I both know it's just for show, our minds aren't on the body in front of us, but on the bodies that got up and left. They aren't coming back, you and I both know that. We get hurt and we think that maybe we are being let in again, accepted by those who have sawed us in half and dragged us across the floor. Instead we’ll just play pretend. Pretend that we don't remember the colors of their eyes, pretend that we remember each others.
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8
Jay Arora
To My Grandfather Anonymous
Those who are gone are gone Because no one can beat time. Not you, Not me, Helpless, Powerless, Pointless are we. Are we? But I love those who are gone. My love for them lives on though they are utterly gone. Love is why we live, But it's why we feel allowed to die. No one can beat time. Not you, not me, But can we, Through love? Maybe. For when I am gone to another, my love will belong, And that child nurtured by smiles, And sweetness and beauty and care compiled Will feed yet another with the drops of my soul Dripping from his skin Demanding to journey once more In the relay against time. So no matter the speed at which the planets move Putting wrinkles on our faces with relentless haste Know that love moves faster.
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Infatuation Anonymous
89 degrees July 5th 57th and 7th Ave Him
Devin, you leaped out of my pistachio silk dress. A green garment draped over my knees, 8B Pencil quivering in my hand. When the sun beamed on your black roped hair, The thrill of infatuation, Lingered on the edge of my fingertips while drawing your hickory hands. Silence in the studio, Caffeinated infatuation visible in my hopeful eyes. Hopeful to see you again 85 degrees July 6th 57th and 7th Ave Entering the studio at 8:00 am I smell a heavy odor of dusty 1876 easels Whistling strokes of pencils on paper gathering momentum as I approach my easel. I place my pencil down at 12:06 pm And approach you As my ashy baby green gown sways in your direction, Your stance ascends gracefully from the stool. My dusty hands, In contact with your warm, sun-heated hand, Connect us both through the sharing of yellow contagious pastel. I hope to see you again on July 7th, The sight of the stool under the sun, Contains the inspiration of my infatuation.
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Blaring Sirens Hope Buchan
scarlet and sapphire lights the dispatcher's muffled voice over the portable radio salty perspiration pooling on my hands begs to be acknowledged I rise and I'm thrown into the sharp white cabinets for an eternal second the world halts, we must finish our duty bright orange reeves in hand, bounding up stairs in heavy jet black boots The old beaten oxygen valve screams, death peeks over my shoulder, but I evade it, until tomorrow.
Hannah Kramer 11
Jay Arora
12
Torture
Anonymous I saw her leave the bar She left her scarf I took it and ran outside She was smart to bring an umbrella I wasn’t but I still ran to her She hears the splashes and looks behind I hand her the scarf She grabs my hand We walk together This is where the torture began I have been with her for six months She wants us to be closer I ask her to move into my apartment She says yes I help her move her things She sits and watches me move her things I give her the key to our place She adds it to her keychain We sign the lease This is where the torture began I have been with her for a year She wants us to be closer I make a reservation She wears her best dress I ask the waiter to bring dessert She sees the ring I ask the question She says yes We have become one This is where the torture began
13
I see her walk towards me She has flowers in her hand I see my parents start to cry She hugs her dad I say my vows She sheds a tear I say I do She says I do We put the rings on our fingers This is where the torture began I beg her not to go She packs her scarf I ask what I did wrong She removes the key from her keychain I tell her I can change She packs her favorite dress I start to cry She removes the ring from her finger We never see each other again This is where the torture begins
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To the Pretty Girl From the Ocean Anonymous
I cannot cheat on your intriguing mind, By flirting with the beauty of your lips. I try to keep your breath for words aligned In conversation, not for lust’s necklace. But yet, attraction creeps onto my fire, Like ocean’s tides that flicker on my skin. They draw me to the sea of deep desire, While I look back to shore where thoughts have been. The waves around me grow! They drown me now. I gasp for breaths, no longer for high words, But just to stay alive in passion’s prowl, While sirens sing my dirge, my soul now burned. How strange that I can drown while torched in flames. Temptation floods and lights the very same.
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Hannah Kramer 16
Instructions on breaking my Heart Paige Robinson
When you break my heart, do me a favorDo it face to face. And hold my hand, like you did when I told you I was scared. Do it while we’re out getting coffee and do it before it’s too late. Maybe tell me we need to talk so I don’t walk in unprepared. Sit across from me and ask about my day. Remind me to not gulp my tea, so I won’t burn my tongue. Just so I know you care, pay attention to what I have to say. And when I inch my hand towards yours to let you know I’m done Make sure you don’t pull away. So then I’ll think it’s okay to look you in the eye Maybe give you a shy smile, to let you know that I know what I mean. This would be where you bite your lip or maybe sigh But it won’t hit me yet, so you squeeze my hand and lean Into my space. I’ll look at your lips We’re face to face Take a sip of your coffee, just a sip. This is where you break my heart. You should look out the window as you speak, (Because of course, I’ll choose a table with a view of the park) Make sure, when you finally say it, that our eyes meet So I can make sure there isn’t even a spark. That’s why I want you to do it face to faceNo possibility of confusion, no lingering doubts. Not even your fingers linger, only the almost-taste Of the coffee you just swallowed down.
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Sofia Szyfer 18
Mistress Fall Jonah Zinn
Mistress Fall is a coy mistress Embarrassed to show her coldness In the face of father sun And thus only has boldness When the day is new or done But as for all the rest Her cold side is not there And for me it is a pest For I know not what to wear Shall I brace the cold winds east? Or sweat as the day matures? For fall roars like a beast Then like a kitten purrs And thus we have to bear This rather impish weather For worse than hot or cold alone Is hot and cold together
Meg Phillips
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Hannah Kramer 20
Pinocchio in a Pickle Carly Abramson Jonah Zinn
She doesn't understand it She gives you dirty looks It seems dear peter pan, you've met a captain hook It was not always like this It started out so well In fact in the beggining She was like tinkerbell But now you have to glean A moral from this fable Because you reprimanded her For standing on a table And those with her in blood can't seem to understand she drank and drank and drank and drank And she was out of hand
Children of the Corn
We sit ourselves down, our belts forlorn And feast on syrup made from corn
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Kate Renshaw-Lewis
22
Melissa Schlobohm
CHAPTER II. existentialism
The Lonely Sculpture In the Empty Cabin Finds Winter Matt Rubenstein
[…wind often passes it, slithers to the wooden door, whose knob turns reluctantly like the gears of an old clock. If the sculpture had hands, it would try to grab, try to stop the wind, but its hands still would not –
could not…
keep the wind for itself, or cheat the key of the lock. The knob will still turn like the gears of an old clock. Yet wind, though relentless, is empty, like the hands of the sculpture, like the gears of an old clock… until…
all the wind – passes it is now far – away…] 23
Evan Hyrshko
24
Welcome to the Dream Anonymous
As I exhaled, a rush came over me that I had never imagined. No longer did I taste the recycled air moving in and out of my lungs. This breath belonged to me for the first time. This fleeting moment was mine. I could feel the links of every chain that tied me down to reality being broken. The overpowering weights were lifted off my shoulders and the clouds became my equals. This wasn’t the kind of freedom my president speaks about. This was real. The exhilaration of this foreign feeling had made me utterly oblivious to the fact that my eyelashes had become hundred pound barbells, determined to shut my eyelids. The world as I knew it slowly faded to black as I fell into an infinite slumber. Welcome to the dream.
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Hannah Kramer
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The Absolute Value of Us Anonymous
The control we have over our fate Is the same control we have over the absolute value function. Suppose to change our fate, we need a negative number. But everyone is, from birth, thrown inside The indifferent walls of the absolute value function. We have an infinite selection of numbers to choose from And we can tire ourselves going through them all. We can spend years finding more numbers Or more complex versions of the same ones. But in the end, when it comes to plugging in The answer is always positive.
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Sofia Szyfer 28
The Blackened Truth
jared Brunner
the only truth hides beneath your lip, trembling and gnawing, it does not want to be free. let it whimper let it cry, but please let it be. but when the truth escapes, when you let it leave your lips, it eviscerates my flesh, rips apart my insides, drives into my core, and flattens my soul. it is the only truth for which all have ebbed to nil, for it-they have all turned to dust. this truth is that the world is black and nothing more. 29
you want to scream it, howl it, proclaim it to the void: you exist to die. but no one is there to hear you whisper it on your dying breath. so you must let it be. the only truth is that there are none.
Kate Renshaw-Lewis 30
Sofia Szyfer 31
The Last Man on Earth’s Thoughts Peter Colbert
Taptap, taptap, The sound of drops of water resounded on the metal in a rhythmic fashion, Echoing through the basement. There was no other sound to be heard, Only the haunting silence remained. No changes, no events, nothing at all. Except the water, Hitting the rusted metal floor, echoing in the basement, Echoing in the mind, Taptap, taptap.
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Kate renshaw-lewis
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A New York Subway Station at 10:35 pm Leelah Klauber
Glances, nods, misplaced emotions The subway is a random meeting place for all individuals/ All different circumstances, and scenarios that happen to meet up at the 10:38 p.m. subway/ a woman with a red raincoat walks through the door and a man with hair larger than life sits next to her with no distinct exchanges/ A spark of light attracts the attention of no one because as 11:00 approaches the people see the same mundane landscape of their home station/ It’s now 11:04/ a rushed student followed by the crowd leaves the cart/ He carelessly kicks the shards of a beer bottle that had unbeknownst fallen from the bag of a business man running home to say good night and stay in good graces with his wife and child As the station empties and refills on its usual schedule laughter from an innocent phone conversation reverberates on the tracks and hollow underground station/ the rush is endless the floors never got a rest from all the stomping feet and the walls never stop hearing constant chatter / even as the sun rises and sets the bustle continues and people glance, nod and express misplaced emotions
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Kate renshaw-lewis 35
CHAPTER III. Miscellaneous
White Privilege Flies First Class Matt Rubenstein (*Bang!* Trayvon)
I Have a Dream – wait scratch that I woke up, I sleep too much; eight hours is quite enough. The air felt suffocating on the ground. The city walls put me behind a fog, It’s bloody, heavy, solid, sinking down, The handcuffs of awareness forge a God. Then, closer to a heaven I will go To decongest my soul and force a shrug. Could I become more holy, more aglow, By moving from the pistol-Crippled thug? So why should I go care for those who die – When gunshots can be turned into a gleam? Up here the crashes look like fireflies, Who join to dance and sing indifferently. A chain dissolves to form a mem’ry odd, For now, it’s true, I’m holy, I am God. I Have a Dream – wait scratch that I woke up, It seems I can’t remember what it was.
But oh who cares?...It’s only a dream.
(*Bang!* Michael…
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Kate renshaw-lewis
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Accomplishment Derek Kleinman
You breathe a sigh of relief Your muscles finally relax And your mind finally clears. A smile slowly forms on your face As your grin gets bigger, At last, satisfaction starts to set in. You do the little things, the actions that go unnoticed, unseen For no one but yourself, for the little version of you that lies deep inside, Hidden from the rest of the world. For the little version of you that wakes you up every morning When you can’t get up. You do these little deeds so he or she can feel joy. Everyone should be proud of you. Everyone should clap. You should be even prouder of yourself. Give yourself a round of applause. As if a large crowd is cheering for you, Celebrate.
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Sophia Szyfer
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Flowers Anonymous To go to the flower farm with succulent hypercum, Enveloped in tenuous mercury. Celosia Parian dripping with billowy roses, Wind whistling through the decaying wheat. Reseda green grass so lustruous lavender, Her heart cachepot with phalaenopsis lust. Oh my dear Celosia, my Parisian tale, The wind moves my soul to mercury.
Catherine Tsai 40
Time Hope Buchan Top down, sun darkens my skin the leather seat sticks to my legs My hand entwined in yours, they become one Screaming along to the radio station you don't like miles in the rearview, potholes ripped in the ground but the exit is in the distance, we continue with sweaty palms the thought makes my eyes sting and my stomach flip the car accelerates and my breath is taken before I can speak the road torn to pieces, tainted by time double yellow lines between us, separated by nature's desire.
Hannah Kramer 41
The Montlcair Kimberley Academy