THE
PHOENIX
2014 ~ Volume 30
Townsend Harris High School
THEPHOENIX Volume 30 - 2014
OUR STAFF
Editors-in-Chief:
Yelena Dzhanova ‘15 Jillian Panagakos ‘14
Art Editor:
Anna Kim ‘15
Literary Editor:
Anthony Budwah ‘14
© Townsend Harris High School 2014 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means without authorization from the publisher or owners of submitted materials. Inquiries should be addressed to: Rafal Olechowski Townsend Harris High School 149-11 Melbourne Avenue Flushing, NY 11367 Adobe ® InDesign ® and Photoshop ® are either registered trademarks or trademarks of Adobe Systems Incorporated in the United States and/or other countries. All artists, authors, and photographers maintain complete ownership and copyright over their respective submitted materials. Cover Photo “The Road” by Adrienne Lee
Photography Editor: So a
ilonas ‘14
Layout Editor:
egan Pa ke ‘14
Business Manager: K istine
uillaume ‘16
Staff:
Oth ia Ahmed ‘15 Sangida Akte ‘17 P iya Amin ‘16 Eunice Baik ‘16 Nicolas Ba ios ‘17 Ad ienne a al ‘16 Emily han ‘17 Jenne hen ‘15 Sa ina heng ‘17 Anthony hia enza ‘14 uazzam howdhu y ‘17 e esa Deely ‘16 A doulaye Diallo ‘16 Noel Du ‘17 Joanne Han ‘15 Sa ina Hossain ‘17 Janice Im ‘16 Sa ah I al ‘15 Pa ina Kaewk a ang ‘15 a ie Kessel ‘17 Ashley Kim ‘16 Jason Lall ee ‘16 Ad ienne Lee ‘14 And ea Li ‘16 A zu eha in ‘16 ahnoo i za ‘14 Fahim Nousad ‘16 Anna Nowogo ski ‘16 Linda OuYang ‘17 ichelle Pao ‘17 Dev ani Paul ‘17 Shivani P a hu ‘17 Sumona Rahman ‘17 ahi a Raihan ‘17 asey Ramos ‘17 A ygail Ram e sad ‘15 Alleg a Santo ‘15 Joshua Singava a u ‘17 la isse am ‘17 David a owin ‘16
This edition of The Phoenix is dedicated to old and new alike: to those who walked the halls of Townsend Harris in the past, to those who lug bookbags up six flights of stairs each day, to those who dreamed big and accomplished much, to those who shoot for the sky, aiming to land among the stars, to those who set the example for the future, to those who are the future, and finally to those who first gave a breath of life to The Phoenix in 1985, and to those who continued to keep it alive for the next thirty years.
THEPHOENIX is proud to announce the winners of our annual contests.
Photography Contest 1. Year of the Horse by Adrienne Lee ‘14 2. Blue Eyes by Hallee Pell-Brown ‘16 3. Peggy’s Cove by Rachel Wong ‘16
Writing Contest 1. Ceramic House by Jason Lalljee ‘16 2. “Okay” by Casey Ramos ‘17 3. “On Being a Girl” by Andrea Li ‘16
Art Contest 1. Bicycle by Sammi Kwok ‘14 2. Quicksand by Lianna Rada ‘16 3. Hogwarts by Jane Zheng ‘16
Editors’ Note The creation of art of any kind is rarely ever done at the hand of a single person. Sure, it is usually executed in solitude, carefully crafted to the point of near perfection as the artist exposes a piece of their soul to the outside world. However, this can only be possible after a lifetime of family members, best friends, acquaintances, and encounters with “that-one-guy-onthe-street.” It takes an abundance of breathtaking moments and memorable experiences to make someone really stop and pay attention to the world. The mission of The Phoenix this year was to expand opportunities for creative life throughout not only the Phoenix community, but throughout Townsend Harris as a whole. We created this year’s issue with the intention of highlighting the unique talents of the current student body as well as the dedication to creativity of Townsend Harris students over the entirety of the publication’s existence. We know and appreciate that art lives and breathes; it deserves a place in which to thrive amongst a community of students who are sometimes excessively focused on numbers. This issue reflects not only the potential for unique, creative talent among the current student body, but also that The Phoenix has been a haven for creativity over the past thirty years. - The Editors
TABLE OF The Phoenix: Celebrating 30 Years
Untitled, art (cont.)
Janice Ho
Okay, poetry
Okay, poetry (cont.)
Blue Eyes, photography
Blue Eyes, photography (cont.)
On Having an Existential Crisis at the Age of Six, poetry
Bicycle, art
Casey Ramos
WRITING FEATURE: SARAH IQBAL Untitled, art
CONTENTS
Janice Ho
Casey Ramos
Hallee Pell-Brown
Sarah
bal
Hallee Pell-Brown
Sammi Kwok
The Woods Would be Lovely, poetry
All the Little Lights, art
Strange Love, poetry
Clavicle, art
Lumen, art
My Window, prose
Untitled, photography
Untitled, poetry
Untitled, photography
Untitled, photography
Untitled, art
Ode to Spring, poetry
Candy Colored Clothes, poetry
Untitled, photography
Year of the Horse, photography
Year of the Horse, photography (cont.)
Beholder, photography
Violent Delight, prose
Repetition, poetry
Untitled, photography
Empty Pockets, poetry
Little Red Riding Hood, art
Momento, photography
Momento, photography (cont.)
Will You Be My Company, photography
Will You Be My Company, photography (cont.)
Coconut Curry Soup, poetry
Untitled, art
Jason Lalljee
iki a Khalid
ichelle Gan
Janice Ho
S maiya
iah
Ka ie W
Gleb Za lano
Adrienne Lee
Adrienne Lee
Adrienne Lee
Abygail Ram ersad
Asia Ace edo
ART FEATURE: ANGEL SONG
icole an
Asia Ace edo
ART FEATURE: MARIE KESSEL
S maiya
iah
ichelle Gan
heodhora hes ollari
Asia Ace edo
Anonymo s
icholas Rahim
Sarah
bal
An hony Chiaren a
ichelle Gan
So a
ilonas
Asia Ace edo
O hria Ahmed
icholas Rahim
Janice Ho
Alcoholic, poetry
Untitled, art
Untitled, photography
Untitled, photography (cont.)
Untitled, photography
Shipwreck Queen, prose
Untitled, art
It Is Inherently True That Money Talks, poetry
Untitled, art
Shipwreck Queen, prose (cont.)
Untitled, art
Untitled, art (cont.)
Peggy’s Cove, photography
Peggy’s Cove, photography
Untitled, art
Untitled, poetry
Getting Home, poetry
Road, photography
Untitled, photography
Untitled, photography
Deciduous Summer in ottava rima, poetry
Bea a Warchol
Adrienne Lee
S maiya
iah
Rachel Wong
An hony B dwah
Kari ocolano
Janice Ho
Allegra San o
Allegra San o
Rachel Wong
Adrienne Lee
Jason Lalljee
Kari ocolano
Anna Kim
ajila Zaman
Anna Kim
el hine Zheng
Kari ocolano
oel
ajila Zaman
Anonymo s
Untitled, poetry Ka ie W
Changeling’s Lament, poetry
Jason Lalljee
PHOTOGRAPHY FEATURE: SOFIA MILONAS
THEPHOENIX:
Celebrating 30 Years
“
My fondest memory is working with the students on the first issue of The Phoenix. I was working only with freshmen, which was highly unusual for a high school, yet the end result was a demonstration of working from the heart with the spirit of fresh voices. I am proud to have been the advisor that guided the literary publication of THHS back to life.
”
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- Frank Polizzi (Advisor ‘85)
“ ha e lo s o grea memories. “ wasn n il ook some o Bob remember lo s o grea edi orial Babs ock s classes ha knew eams iane B chal er and Keren wan ed o ge more serio s abo Sharon anabelle gnes and ariswri ing a he ime he was he sa Kinsey y Ocam o and Claire ad isor or . He s ao elanie riedman and Be h an incredible ar is ic men or o his Ponso adia Ahmed Jess S inosa s den s m gra e l ha was one and Adrienne a eo. here were o hem. ama ing oe ry readings wi h eo le As bo h a con rib ing wri er and an j s s e ing o i and knocking di or- n-Chie o he maga ine i o er he wall. And lo s o la ghs. re ired a lo o crea i e el like being in a ra ack where he j ice. go o wri e oems see la ghs were always accom anied by hem raised or orn a ar - which he ha y s r rises o ar and oe ry ha ened j s as o en by o her and c ion. Lo s o con rib ors and edi ors on he board oredi ors are making heir mark on he world o le ers “Long may The gani e he ow o li erary like Aleksandra K s and Phoenix rise.” and ar is ic works in he maga ine i sel and dea Ri lin- adler and hsign he layo . When we co ldn iahera rse. he kids always s rnd an a ro ria e image o go wi h assed my e ec a ions or ar and he wri ing d hesi an ly ol n eer so l. my own ho ogra hs which when a ro ed by he o her edi ors he Phoeni along wi h he Classic ended in he blica ion. s are he mos im or an en ironmen s rare and incredibly rewarding o be in he h mani ies ecosys em o he in ol ed in a rojec on all crea i e school. y a roach o being ad ile els rom he wri ing o he oe ry sor was a li le absen minded denand aking o he ho ogra hs o mo herish always lo ed ha kids he selec ion o works o n dging who had o her in eres s whe her i he e and ho os o he selec ion was s or s h man righ s or m sical o he y e ace o sing odge and hea er wo ld s bmi as onishingly B rn on ho ogra hs ha re ired accom lished work. Long may o ch- be ore rin ing. rise.”
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o ert Ba stock
dvisor
“It’s rare and incredibly rewarding to be involved in a project on all creative levels”
hinking is good b kee doing kee doing - kee doing. o yo r ery bes in doing so yo will make mis akes learn and ge e onenially be er. os im or an s o asking ermission o aim higher.” - drianna
ateo Editor
Face
Valerie Cheng (Volume 28)
Old Man
Jack Bouba (Volume 18) “ here is some hing more o li e han j s he m ndane ro ine o e eryday. As we age i seems like he ligh ha once sed o b rn er en ly inside begins o icker and slowly die down. aims o hel heir members main ain heir crea i e s iri s as hey edge closer and closer o he hreshold o ad l hood. hey are a comm ni y o wri ers ar is s ho ogra hers m sicians and indeed anyone wi h crea i e ision and a as e or ingen i y. he blica ions ha arise rom his gro are r ly ins iring beca se hey are re resen a i e o heir imagina ion and enaci y. Sadly hese ali ies are increasingly rare o nd in an a erage high school eenager.
enise o les Editor
The Word
The sticky feel of summer Hung heavily in the air of the car Like a pair of moth-ridden curtains That refused to be removed My cousin occupied the back seat Despite our small statures, We managed to take up the whole space. Our ebullient laughter was barely heard Over the incessant chatter of the grown-ups. As we arrived at the dwelling My cousin poked me. Her untamed hair Tickled my pondering as she whispered:
I bit my little pink lip And uttered it.
“If you say stitch, But with a ‘b’ Instead of ‘st’, It’s a bad word.”
And that was the first time I cursed
It was only a murmur, But it resonated through the car. Reticence ensued and I was suddenly Under surveillance. A wave of shame flooded me As I felt their unbelieving eyes And the guilt I felt Could have been comparable To that felt by an accidental murderer
“As a s eciali ed school many o o r s den s e ressed in eres s in mos o he ar s rom crea i e wri ing o ain ing dance e al. A school wide eriodical seemed a mos a ro ria e ehicle or s den s and s a oo o share heir crea i e e or s. is a signi can ins r men s or ing and highligh ing o r H mani ies rogram. he many awards garnered by he maga ine and by indi id al s den s ar ici a ing in his ac i i y ha e been im or an o elec i e co rses which mo i a e and rod ce en ries and o he school s recogni ion in he larger comm ni y. We were or na e rom he s ar o ha e an en h sias ic ad isor and a coo era i e and res onsi e s a and s den body eager o con rib e.” r
argmann Princi al
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Denise Robles (Volume 28)
Love Note to Baudelaire Adrianna Mateo (Volume 24)
“ hink any ar is can a es o his here is no hing i e like being abo o eel a hing in yo r hands like he gloss o a Phoeni co er ha once j s li ed in yo r head. o in he leas beca se i con rms ha or all heir cl nking some imes he gears here shi smoo hly in o lace. S range how he head s so o en a R be Goldberg machine b some imes all he ss is wor h i when he marble dro s s arely in o he c . don regre any o my high school choices b wonder occasionally wha wo ld ha e ha ened i had de ia ed rom he s ric co rse d se or mysel . go o college and reali ed ha while d been biding my ime g ring o whe her wri ing was some hing wan ed o rs e o her eo le had been signi can ly more en er rising. s ose i doesn really ma er when yo g re some hing o beca se e eryone ends o end in he same lace i hey re r ly in eres ed in some hing and mo i a ed o rs e i down any n mber o rabbi holes. B i yo re willing and bra e yo don need o be wai o be c ed in o crea i i y by some grand li e ges re. o ha e all he ime yo re willing o make.” ennifer ersten Editor
“the community that surrounds The Phoenix is incredible.”
he mos rewarding ar o he comm ni y is robably ha i is a gro o like-minded in he sense ha we all lo ed li era re ar and crea i e wri ing eo le channeling he orce o heir crea i i y in o a ma erial mani es a ion o i .” Clare ao Editor
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“ he Phoeni was robably one o he i no he bes hing o ha e come o o my high school years. a gh me how a blica ion works as well as res onsibili y and some Pho osho skills. Beyond ha ho gh he comm ni y ha s rro nds he Phoeni is incredible.
he Phoeni was a cri ical ar o my high school e erience. A lo o eole lea e ownsend Harris wi h memories o s r ggling hro gh im ossible amo n s o school work r nning in gym class and heir weird riends. hese oo were in egral o my e erience b he Phoeni really sha ed he way remember my a erschool e erience my o side-o - he-classroom memories. inishing class o go o a room ll o en h sias ic li erary nerds s ch as mysel was a ni e e erience ha is hard o c l i a e anywhere else wi h he same n r ring and cons r c i e en ironmen . y lo e o books oe ry and all o her li erary orms wo ld no be as dee i i were no or he Phoeni . atherine omin ue Editor
Life’s Ballet
Katherine Dominguez (Volume 27) I cannot dance well, but Earth keeps pirouetting. I will keep trying.
Untitled
Erica Eisenstein (Volume 8)
Playing Much and Saying Nothing Nina Mozes (Volume 20)
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That first day Standing sheepishly Before an acclaimed petite flutist With lungs like a whale And sound that traveled miles I picked up my instrument and tripped on a Jumble of notes. She told me that my technique was Amazing But then asked, “Where’s your voice?”
Wish I Was Your Vicodin Joann Lee (Volume 23)
“Crea ing ar is like shing or he ho gh s ha er away in he mind. lls hem in slowly so ha hey can ake heir ime ma eriali ing in o an abs rac ion as bea i l as i s original orm. akes a ar ic lar orm o a ience howe er o wai or he ieces ha are he closes o how i e is ed in he mind a y e o raw dedica ion ha only grows s ronger when shed o i s limi s. B ha a ience reels in crea ions ha are e en more bea i l han he mos recio s diamonds. lea es behind magni cen ieces o ar ho ogra hy and wri ing ha s eak direc ly o he reader le ing hem e erience hem as he ho gh s ha hey once were. hose gems o a res less mind are hen s o ed by he ndying s a o he Phoeni a collec ion o h mans acked wi h knowledge ha ake ar in he crea ion o ar on a normal basis. hey s end ho rs ni icking n il hey oge her a book ha sim la es he many arying ho gh s eelings and e eriences ha oa s in he mind o he crea or.
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o no only be a crea or o hose abs rac ions b also a collec or o he ho gh s o o hers has gi en me an insigh in o he de hs o he minds o my eers. now am able o see o hers no only as how hey are b also as a collec ion o he ho gh s ha hey ha e ca gh and hen released in o he world. s an e erience ha has grown rom a sim le knowledge o a ersis en re rising rom i s own ashes among he ho gh s ha swim in my mind.� nthony Budwah Editor
“ is my grea leas re and honor o be he Ad isor o he Phoeni crea i e comm ni y. his year marks a remarkable miles one in he his ory o he maga ine--i s 3 h iss e. am h mbled by he o or ni y o walk in he oo s e s o my redecessors rank Poli i Helen Ri o arah Khan and Rober Babs ock. arly in he Phoeni days hey se a golden s andard ha we can only dare o as ire o a daily reminder o o r school s mo o ad as ra er as era. y rs enco n er wi h he Phoeni was hro gh one o i s readings. ranserred o HHS a ew mon hs earlier and nos algia or my re io s school colleag es and s den s re en ly isi ed my ho gh s. Howe er when r. Babs ock in i ed me o ha my rs Phoeni reading o nd a welcoming and crea i e gro o s den s and ac l y. his e erience ga e me ho e or nding mysel a home again.
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n he las ew years he Phoeni maga ine and more im or an ly he comm ni y ha crea es i grew beyond my wildes e ec a ions. he ali y and
range o s bmi ed work s eaks o he many alen s o r s den s ossess. n he recen years we ha e managed o ri le he amo n o ages and more han do ble he amo n o Phoeni members. am deligh ed o see more reshmen joined he maga ine s a han e er be ore. Perha s he bes es amen is his year s edi or-in-chie Jillian Panagakos who has been on he s a o he maga ine since her rs year a HHS. She is s or ed by a j nior elena ahno a and a so homore Kris ine G illame as j nior edi ors. A r e es amen ha he Phoeni has become a lace or e eryone. hank yo or s or ing his year s Phoeni . is a lly nancially inde enden s den organi a ion. All rin ing e enses con es ees con erence cos s and -shir s ha e been ossible by he hard work o he en ire Phoeni s a by raising more han 3 his year alone. am ins ired by o r s den s sense o inde endence. ow read and enjoy.� afal
lechowski
dvisor
The Milky Way
Jane Soliternik (Volume 28)
writing feature SARAH IQBAL
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I write because sometimes feelings need to come out in messy bursts that are just barely coherent enough for others to read. Always painting my mental pictures with someone else in mind, I'm trying to give back to anyone who has ever helped me grow. I strive to learn things about myself and human nature that are far too complex to account for in a few simple stanzas, though that will never stop me from attempting to get it all down. I write based on observations, playing with perspectives and often finding that masses of once-foreign faces can be like jars of loose change: if you root around enough through the dulled gray, you're likely to stumble across a few copper pennies.
SARAH IQBAL
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Orange Juice isembodied oices led hea ily ringed ngers nail olish chi ed a he i s waggled owards me in he mos disa ro ing o ashions and i inde ngers ac ed as he sole re resen a ions o emo ion han e ery ber o my mo her s being may ha e been roo ed in s ern chiding beca se “ ara se a glass don be so wild ” as drink orange j ice s raigh rom he car on he only sol ion or my insolence a row o s o less glasses res ing by he ridge o ered as selec ion o whome er was considera e eno gh o no sla her sali a on he s o o he orange j ice and my hands were er e ally coa ed in soa y wa er since who else wo ld clean he l y glasses a er he ac and erha s i wo ld ha e been bro gh o a en ion ha here was only one erson sing he orange j ice glasses here ore one erson drinking said orange j ice and my cracking hands we or some hing o be in disarray so erch on he edge o my ain s la ered wooden able e ery morning “si on a chair ara yo don wan any hing s icking o ha dress ” aking care o wear only he dee es o bl es whi es s ained ermanen ly orange and g l he swee li id s raigh rom i s li le whi e bo licking he s are dro s on he edges gloa ing a no one in ar ic lar he only downside o drinking rom he car on being ha concen ra ion is key any shi in a en ion ca sing cascades o orange nec ar o s lash on he gro nd and s ill ha e races o an orange ddle mingling wi h he able ain rom when yo walked in o my ki chen ha morning grin coa ing yo r ace in a way ha old me ha here wo ld be no nger wagging here was eno gh room in he ridge or wo car ons o orange j ice.
Grief is just another name for the time it takes to feel normal again. ll gi e yo en b cks o sa e me. ll gi e i o yo in dir y ar ers i yo ll all in o my ils and work yo r way back o wi h yo r inde nger hanging on o he bel loo o my jeans. ll gi e yo e b cks a bi o lin and some old chewing g m i yo back all he li le ieces yo cked away inside he wais band o yo r nderwear e ery ime called yo on he hone and we s ayed silen or a li le while. ll gi e yo si y- e cen s o b y me a c o black co ee and o r i all o er my hands so ll inch e ery ime hi a key and my minimalis oe ry will ne er so nd he same again. will gi e yo absol ely no hing i yo do absol ely no hing rn on yo r heel and b y yo rsel yo r own c o co ee. o can add oo m ch s gar and s ar walking in he o osi e direc ion wi h all my ieces in yo r ocke while ry and climb o o my eyes a er making a ro e wi h all ha lin in my ocke .
writing feature
SARAH IQBAL
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There’s a Lot Going On, I Guess When eo le ell me ha some hings e is beyond h man con rol hey re s ally owering o er me holy book in hand while nod solemnly and hink o we sand. was e years old he rs ime he ocean cons med me and ben my skinned knees in o sal y wa er looking as he body r ling se en y ercen o ar h s s r ace en elo ed me in a ba ism ha no man o God co ld er orm in a holier manner and remember hinking ha no hing else sho ld be ca able o s ch ower. A er ha d wade in o de hs e ery S nday na raid o na re b newly erri ed o any hing ha co ld sim la e i . n he momen s be ore yo s ar o anic yo eel he ress re mo n like wa es in a lace where no amo n o si honing co ld hel yo clear i away and no ries has e er old me ha hings inside my head can be classi ed as ‘o side my con rol or ha j dgmen is meas red in he b ild o ar icles collec ing on he o s o ho gh s ha ha en s en eno gh ime being screened wi h es ioning. ery morning ge o o bed and walk in o d s and i s hard o oc s on dee brea hing when yo re losing hings in yo r own sea o nonsense. Some imes hear my cell hone ringing when know i s on silen and imagine icking i o hear someone s soo hing oice on he o her line and hey wo ld say
s okay baby know i ook yo wen y min es o ge o o bed his morning and ha yo ried ge ing dressed wi h he hea iness o mo n ains on yo r scrawny sho lders and know ha yo re rying o crea e yo r own religion o o nearly drowning so ha yo can ha e an e c se o kee s e ing back in o he wa es. here are imes when i is easy o drown in he absence o ano her body beside yo and he only sal iness resen here is he kind s reaming down yo r ace and yo nd yo rsel r nning owards anyone who ll s and in ron o yo or e seconds so yo can brandish yo r scabby knees and beg hem o heal yo Beca se in he real world here are no gold s ars or ge ing o o bed and yo migh ha e o was e a lo o days a he beach wai ing or someone o ask why yo r knees ne er heal o er and yo re le es ioning yo r religion o shells and sal wa er reali ing ha here s a h ge ga ing hole in he middle o yo r lo ely beach and all he sand is r nning o . Peo le ell me ha here are hings o o my con rol and don go o he beach anymore since mass s ar s a en and don ask any es ions beca se maybe miracles j s ake ime.
writing feature
SARAH IQBAL
Worms don’t handle stomach acid very well. When my dad alks abo grilling s eaks or dinner hink abo going o side wi h him and c rling my ngers ndernea h he coals so can nders and wha my a n means when she ells me ha her boy riend rea s her like a iece o mea . wan o scoo he charred remains o my esh and eed i o he neighborhood ca s so hey can nders and why s h mans are always walking aro nd wi h bi er as es in o r mo hs and whi e kn ckles sho ed dee in o a ered ocke s. wan o ram le an hills and make he ear h ndernea h my ee nders and or once wha i s like o ha e e ery hing eel less han solid when he gro nd rns o icksand b doesn ha e he decency o swallow yo whole in one g l .
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wan he ear h o regre ing me in a sinkhole only e ee dee so ha m s oca ing b j s barely and can see he soles o shoes carrying on wi h heir days while my mo h is lled wi h worms and dir and swallow my silence and ho e some hing bea i l will hri e in he i o my s omach ins ead.
Makeup Test hey wan yo r o nd o esh in n mber orm be ore he sys em knocks or re rib ion. Cower yo do be ore a s liced iece o dead ree s reams o knowledge ha ing eroded a groo e by assing long erm memory si es by a hand s bread h only o ow ran illy o he o her ear. o r awareness o men al dehydra ion al ers n il yo e nished wri ing yo r name on he age and yo gh a lonely ba le wi h hal a shee s wor h o crossings-o s omach ro es ing he lack o any o her “s i able” ime o j ice yo o da es s ooned in o yo r mo h in 4 min e in er als. hey enjoy s icking corr ngers down yo r hroa in he ho es o bringing back hal -chewed ocab lary. hen ha ing wr ng yo dry hey send yo o or he ne orce- ed meal.
writing feature
SARAH IQBAL
I Don’t Want You Wearing Someone Else’s Genes hey say silence can make yo lose yo r mind as er han yo r car keys and whi e noise echoed in he s ace be ween my ears as held my brea h n il my li s ma ched he chea r le hols ery o he wai ing room chairs. O r hear s a em ed esca e ia o r rib cages while she shi ed her body agains cr m led e am able a er my ngers crossed so igh ly eared migh go hro gh li e ermanen ly signing he le er ‘R and didn know i ha cold gel ac ally made he goose b m s ha rose on her belly s ell o ‘ lease or d j s disco ered a new me hod o rayer.
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ha e l raso nds. ha e hem beca se e ery ime we see an em y gri y screen hink abo how my readiness obli era es any concei able s here o do b while her body de es her mon h a er mon h. y nigh s are assed in imaginings o kisses lan ed on a swollen belly joking abo swallowed wa ermelon seeds my only concern being wha as el colors ll ain yo r room wi h. sho ld be ner o s abo aking care o yo r iny shri eled sel ins ead o whe her ll be able o e er ck yo in o he crook o my arm a all. don wan yo wearing someone else s genes wan yo o ha e my hick mess o hair he shock o green eyes assed down as blessings rom rela i es yo were oo la e o mee .
don wan o hink o yo breaking some o her g y s arm when m eaching yo o lay baseball e en ho gh we d be he only wo eo le in he ark. o don make babies in las ic c s nder microsco es wi h i e es in hand. o make hem wi h lo e regardless o wha yo ll learn in heal h class and all he lo e has gone o o yo r making and yo e become an im ossible ask like rying o c wa er ha kee s rickling hro gh yo r ngers no ma er how m ch we beg i o s ay and all ha begging mo ed my hear in o he wrong lace. can hear he crying a nigh in he ba hroom he bo les o ills ha m l i ly in he c boards he romises “ his one will work swee hear he doc or said so.” don r s anyone who s been o medical school don r s mysel o s ay sane slee ing ne o her when know ha he n mbers don line he chemis ry doesn mi we can ne er ha e he only hing need rom his li e and m sorry yo wo ld ha e lo ed her b need yo more han yo need her when yo are older yo will nders and ha my hear righ now is sha ered in o a million ieces only able i yo re wearing my genes.
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Untitled Janice Ho
The Woods Would Be Lovely Jason Lalljee
old yo ha wan ed o walk along he rain racks a s nse Wo ld yo ollow me hro gh he syl an a h yo swore yo d ne er cross he sca ered a mn lea es hid he iron sha s wo ld yo re end ha hey weren here J s so ha d ha e yo r hand o hold as he dis an smoke n rled o ma e wi h clo ds can see yo now eering hro gh he sli s be ween yo r ngers as yo dare no o look B wo ld e liked s bo h o see he ear h o en he s n a las ime.
and swallow
en i he es ion ne er esca ed my li s yo d know wha was abo o ask By ha as hy ia ing momen when o r en wined hear s wo ld bea in sync When o r eyes wo ld mee and he world wo ld dissi a e in o whi e noise like og. wonder wha we d alk abo like charcoal snow akes
as e ha s began o dri down
he silence lled by no a wha a how a why or e en a will b will yo
a
Beca se m ha sel sh es ecially as o r las momen s dwindle and he rain racks r mble he lea es sca ering wi h an alien will o li e ha was somehow ne er hreaded in o my genes. yo d come ha ar he wood yo swore yo d ne er cross looming rom behind Wo ld yo s e on o he rails wi h me o ne er again see nigh cree or h rom he shadows
All the Little Lights Nicole Tan
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As he smoke en elo ed s wo ld yo be looking in o my eyes or o he li e yo le behind
Strange Love Nikita Khalid
slide on a ores green skir A grey ank co er mysel in he ligh scen o l s yeliner as a bow and mascara as an arrow hese are my wea ons o choice. Po ed li s and se eyes A oss o he hair and e ery hing alls in o lace Beca se being wan ed makes e ery hing be er eel ligh and e er escen . A co le o sho s in and he ra is se hey hink i s hem who ha e con ered B hey j s all in o he chokehold Li s and all. nnocen words and glances ha rn o bi es and claws s like he world was made or s So indescribably bea i l. he walk o he rain is di y he ligh s in ermingle wi h he oices All see is reedom And he wind blowing in o my hair my l ngs my skir .
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B when he m sic s bsides and he room is em y All here is le o eel is loneliness Beca se hose ha were in ima e become hose ha don remember yo r name in he morning And hose ha yo l s or become he ones ha mean no hing. he war is o er or oday he only wo nds are he ones in my mind Or in my hear .
Clavicle
Sumaiya Miah
Untitled
Michelle Gan
(Untitled) Katie Wu
A bed, no windows, too few cubic feet To hold a soul. There is no corner I Don’t occupy with faded memories Tacked on the wall and broken records piled
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Which play but half a melody to me. I’ve several cat-eyed marbles kept in jars And several more lost in the dust between My mattress and the floor. My table’s marred With graphite from the only time I tried To organize. The list of things to keep Spilled on the desk - the other one stayed white. A cruel and useless exercise, it seems, A fool’s preoccupation. Rather I’ve A cozy mess than less than half a mind.
de to
i g
Gleb Zavlanov
air S ring a lady alely loi ering Whose brow is decked wi h owers wi h swee dew Whose bosom bir hs yo h s essence which does bring n o he barren glades a glory new Where ha e yo been or e ery hear had in d wi ho yo Where ha e yo been when win er wi h i s shro d ed he world wi h horns o ros and snow And when he s reng h o Cheimon s hoary clo d Had swallowed worlds and bo nd rom head o oe ach aging ree and ro e he ri ers which once swi did ow Had wra
air s ring e grie ed and s lked in mor al grie we or endless days. cra ed yo r brea h o make once li ely e ery aded lea o sa e he s righ ly b ds rom early dea h o blossom e er escen owers rom he ear h benea h. o bir h swee r i s ri e wi h rich em era e blood o kiss he ear h s wan cheek and e er s ore Wi h ri eness e ery s alk and shoo and b d And wi h re swee ness e ery a le s core o mel o oaming b bbles and brigh erd re win er s hoar. he s iri s o he worms all beam wi h ride he swi -heeled elk r n ro nd he s n-li ed leas Amid whi e blossoms nigh ingales hide And sing so ne in all ll- hroa ed ease o carry hro gh he chiming s reams he mir h he la gh he bree e.
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Oh s ring a las bear brigh migh y beams or seeing yo r rs b dded rays which bring on he glades gold weal h and honeyed dreams. A las he win er ed on i s wing n righ o all yo r owers or yo came a las air s ring
Untitled Janice Ho
Year of the Horse
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Adrienne Lee
Repetition
Abygail Rampersad When I was younger, I would repeat everything to myself. Once I said something out loud, It would crawl its way back up my throat, Chip away at my teeth, And burst through my lips once more, But only as a whisper. It forced me to feel the weight of the words Hanging in the back of my throat, Even when the sounds drifted away. As I got older, I leaned to keep my mouth shut. To let the words rattle around, But never slip past the iron gates of my lips. I cannot be wasteful with words, When all they do is pound away at my insides , And bruise their meanings into my skin. The first time I heard you speak, You were repeating something over and over again, And you stopped when it finally lost meaning. I was afraid every time you told me that you loved me. Afraid that you would whisper it so much, That it would just fade into meaningless noise.
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Adrienne Lee
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I never imagined that my downfall would be the way that words hung heavy on my lips, The way that I wanted you to feel the words pressed into your skin, Rather than focus on how often I would say them.
Momento
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Asia Acevedo
art feature MARIE KESSEL
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I’m not really sure why I like art. I’ve been going to art school since I was around six or seven years old, and I never saw it as school. It’s the one place where I can just draw, without worrying about my piles of homework or tests that I have to study for. My mind numbs when I draw. One of my fondest memories is writing a personal essay about art, about how by applying my pencil to the paper, I have the power to turn nothing into something, which is magical. I admit that this sounds kind of cliché but the reason I love art is because I can turn my brain off and stop thinking. My hands do the thinking for me.
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MARIE KESSEL
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MARIE KESSEL
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Alcoholic Beata Warchol
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Coffee-induced insomnia and self-inflicted pain Forced down the shot of vodka I took at 4 am. The alcohol I spilled with ten broken fingers Burned straight through my chest and into my lungs And I exhale with the musky scent of desperation. Perhaps the buzzing in my head will scatter the thoughts of you That relapse like the tumors of some terminal cancer, And perhaps it will replace that insatiable need To claw at my face and forget your memory. But the sting of alcohol licking my wounds Will be the severed Achilles tendon of a reminder That I got drunk on love and forgot myself.
Untitled Janice Ho
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Adrienne Lee
Shipwreck Queen THEPHOENIX2014
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Allegra Santo
I
III
wasn an obsession a rs . he rs ime walked by he ier and o nd her si ing a he ery edge her oes ir ing wi h he shi ering wa es o he incoming ide i was j s a mild in eres . dle ho gh s o wha her name was meandering es ions o or whom she was wai ing. Passing an asies o her awai ing a handsome sailor on a handsome sailboa anishing answers o her name ha ing eigh le ers wi h o r owels. Her dress was whi er han he clo ds resh rom he bo i e she held he a er ag o her alm wi h her h mb r bbing a he enned-in n mbers n il hey were an incom rehensible sm dge. didn a roach her b bi ing in o my lobs er roll and wa ching rom he window o he diner across he way was sa is ying eno gh.
he cris er ec ion o her dress aded o ano her shade o grey or e ery week ha assed. began o hink she ba hed hersel wi h he sal y wa er when s o ed a iece o grimy seaweed among he cl m s o her s ringy hair. She had o ha e ea en he omele sandwiches e ery morning she ne er go so hin ha wo ld ha e s gges ed she was s ar ing hersel b he a er sacks ha a eared in he a ernoons soon disa eared. s osed whoe er migh ha e been gi ing her he ood had s ar ed o consider i a was e on he oor woman.
II
She ne er rned aro nd regardless o how many imes assed by her or how close walked o her or how hea y made my oo s e s on he boardwalk. he ga e ha was ne er mean o ca ch was always ed on he hori on a single oin hro gh which h ndreds o lobs er boa s and whale-wa ching cr isers assed er day. began o an asi e ha she had a h sband who ne er re rned rom a jo rney who d been swallowed by a wa e ar rom he coas a a la i de and longi de o which no one e er aid any mind. A sailor who ne er reached he or so h and wes o sell resh lobs ers ha when cooked had shells redder han he sky a he imes decided o lea e work la er han s al o ha e s er a he diner. She wo ld
She ne er old me i she had a handsome h sband or i her name had eigh le ers wi h o r owels or i she had a h sband or a name a all. he only es ion ha came o my mind was i she liked lobs er. She closed her eyes and nodded a smile cracking he cha ed skin o her li s. She lo ed lobs er she said and no hing more han ha . re rned her smile and when reached or her hand and s ee ed her dry alm she didn seem o mind. IV alked o her only wice a er ha . he second ime clo ds hea y and dark wi h wa er ooded he sky and hid he s n and moon rom iew. A 4 1 P i s ar ed o rain and a 4 3 P he shower bloomed in o a down o r. She was lying down hen arms s layed o he sides and ga n ace s aring he rains orm down as i i wo ld s li in wo i she belie ed hard eno gh. s ood o er her wi h my mbrella no caring or he b lle s sliding down he back o my coa b worrying o er he ones rning her l hy dress in o las ic wra ha cl ng o her skin. She did no smile his ime b she did hank me or hinking o her. y hear swelled wi h sa is ac ion and emo ion co ld ha e kneeled down and kissed her dry
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A new career as a secre ary led my a h as he small ier e ery morning a 3 A and as i again a 4 3 P . She wo ld be here bo h imes. A 3 she wo ld ha e a a er la e si ing ne o her wi h an omele be ween wo slices o oas le n o ched. A 4 3 he a er la e wo ld ha e been re laced by a a er sack also n o ched. A he imes wo ld lea e he a ar men o ick a c o co ee and a croissan a he ca be ore he s n rose she wo ld be lying a he edge. She d ha e an arm ndernea h her head and her wris dangling o er he wa er like some sor o bai he sh co ldn dream o reaching. When yellow ligh wo ld ood he sky her eyelids wo ld er o en and she wo ld rise s re ching her arms o and crossing her legs so she co ld s end he day in ha osi ion. he manager o he ca wo ld kick me o be ore co ld see who ga e her he omele sandwich e ery morning.
was a Wednesday when decided wo ld carry a a er sack o her ins ead a ham sandwich a bag o garlic cro ons a bo le o wa er. wasn a ed by her no inching when my oo s e s grew nearer o her han hey s ally did b he corner o my mind ha seemed o hink ha was as s ecial o her as she was o me was ins l ed when sa beside her and she ailed o look a me. laced he a er sack in her la b again i aro sed no change. Her dark eyebrows were o ergrown hairs clinging oge her and raying o like a ca s whiskers. he rims o her eyes were scr bbed red scarce o eyelashes in he corners and bare o hem along he lower lid. A wind blew in her ace and she blinked.
immobile li s and br shed he dam locks o hair rom her brow. co ld ha e aken her home wi h me and gi en her a warm blanke and a sea by he window so she wo ld s ill ha e been able o wa ch he harbor. ga e her he mbrella and wen home soaking wi h rain.
he hird ime alked o her was he day ski ed work and s o ed by he diner or a lobs er roll. he cashier wra ed i in sandwich a er and al min m oil and aid him .7 or i and le an e ra dollar and 2 cen s in he i jar. He hanked me and he bell abo e he door chimed as walked o . Her legs were crossed and her hands were hreaded hro gh her s icky locks o s raigh hair. Her head did no mo e a cen ime er n il sa down dro ed he a er bag in o her la and old her ha i was lobs er. Her i ering ngers ook he warm roll o o he bag and cas he wra ing aside and wi h a broader smile han d e er seen rom her be ore she hanked me gracio sly. re lied ha i was no a roblem. Silence se led o er o r heads or a ew momen s be ore she said ha a erson once old her he sea was si miles dee . nodded and remained silen licking my li s and s aring a he same oin on he hori on wi h her. She le o a wis l sigh hro gh her nose and said she always ho gh i d be a er ec lace o all aslee . didn know wha o say changed he s bjec wi h my hear dr mming in my ears a s ch a ol me ha co ldn hear he wa es breaking agains he beams s or ing he boardwalk. asked her i she wo ld like o come home wi h me. She hadn bi en in o he sandwich ye b she rned oward me and me my ga e wi h eyes bare o lashes and s lo ched wi h red o her cheekbones. n her swee oice ha wo ld ha e so nded bea i l i o song she said she wo ld consider i . rose o my ee and wished her a good day. As yo can see had no hing o do wi h his. was no hing more han an innocen in rig e he kind ha any erson may ha e abo a s ranger hey see always in he same lace a he same ime. was s r rised no one else had aken an in eres in her rs . o one seemed o see her le alone care abo her. Will yo ersec e a erson who sim ly wished o gi e lo e o ano her didn know she was allergic o lobs er yo r Honor and swear ha saw her no once a er ha she j s disa eared wi ho a race his is he rs ime e seen her in weeks d searched or her b she and her a ered s n dress and her omele sandwich on he a er la e all anished a once and ne er did nd o i she was wai ing or her h sband or i her name had eigh le ers wi h o r owels and swear o yo ha don li e by ha side o he bay and God do swear ha wo ld ha e ne er e er e en ho gh o hrowing her in o he wa er while her wris dangled o er i s si -mile de hs. f
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Sumaiya Miah
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s ar ed b ying co ee and croissan s more o en in he mornings and s er in he e enings. he more re en ed he ca and he diner he more aces grew amiliar and he more names came o know. he baris a wro e his hone n mber on he back o my a er recei one day and he wai ress who had my order memori ed le a ink kiss on my cheek on ano her. knew heir names b nei her hey nor knew hers. knew he baris a had gone hro gh a bad break a ew mon hs be ore and knew he wai ress had go en di orced wice b nei her hey nor knew i she had a h sband. knew he baris a s older bro her ran a yo h shing gro ha me on riday e enings and knew he wai ress mo her owned a gi
sho a he end o he bo le ard b nei her hey nor knew i a wa e had swallowed a lobs er boa ar rom he coas and le her s randed a he edge o he ocean.
eggy s
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Rachel Wong
ove
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o e
Anthony Budwah walk home more o en now he b s rides sa is y me no more. y ee need o gri he gro nd Gras ing hro gh he soles o my worn sneakers. y l ngs need o s ck in he air Pre erring he raw cris y was e o he aging grass cr mbling benea h me Or o he wi hering lea es wres ling away rom he weakened rees dangling abo e me.
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y mind cra es he ime more han all aking me wander he em y s ree s Kee ing my oo s e s secre rying no o break he dee s illness en elo ing he ic re ramed by he sky As he colors ango and blend in o a shake as ing like my lonely man s drink as nd my way home Emptying my stomach every time I glance up to take a sip, And realize that you're not there beside me anymore.
o d
Adrienne Lee
titled
Kari Iocolano
Deciduous Summer in ottava rima
As summer sprung from the passive grip of spring, The hunched ironwood of arrogant splendor, The wild columbine in rapture did sing, Oblivious to young hearts torn asunder. The fading day wrestled fitfully with night And twilight bled forth from the seams of their scars. Lit by nectar scent, dusk housed youth’s desire, Born under pulsing stars and dead by autumn fire.
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Jason Lalljee
Okay Casey Ramos
We were eigh years old and li e was abo coloring books and c s omi ed dolls and r s y old swing se s. We knew li le abo wha he world ho gh was “okay” and ha was okay. Beyond okay. So ho gh i was okay o hold yo r hand en i yo were a girl And was oo beca se ho gh yo were absol ely bea i l and when yo re eigh years old ha s okay. y mom o nd s ho gh hidden in he corner giggling as we held hands in he mos innocen way and she yanked me away looking me dee in he eye wi h her gingerbread brown ones and remember her saying “Honey i s no okay o hold hands wi h girls.” remember asking her why and ge ing some hing nsa is ying like “Girls aren s osed o like girls.”
doesn e en ma er. ears rom now we ll be ha ily married o o r h sbands beca se he world doesn ha e room or eo le who are any hing b ordinary. Somewhere in be ween o r ngers see my mo her see gingerbread brown smell alcohol and eel chi ed ngernails clawing a my skin. eel s oca ed can hear her “ s no okay o hold hands wi h girls.” I hold tighter.
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as orward. years la er. A er boy riends and ri ed lo e le ers and ho rs s en in ron o he mirror e er eno gh o be “okay” wi h yo rsel b i was eno gh.
Bon re. remember a bon re. Li le bi s o re s iraling owards he sky and yo in yo r ri ed jeans and hair ha smelled like ain mes wea e yo r ngers be ween mine and or a second orge where am and only know wha yo r nger i s eel like on mine. And he so ness o yo r nger i s and ha sil er ring on yo r inky nger and hink o how wrong his is ha m alling in lo e wi h my bes riend and ha m alling dee er wi h e ery o ch and ha maybe lo e can be more han a connec ion be ween a boy and a girl.
Blue Eyes
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Hallee Pell-Brown
Bicycle
Sammi Kwok
vi g iste ti l t the Age o i
isis
Sarah Iqbal
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y name was a nger ain ed sm dge on he door o a walk-in close . Welcome o my room where my rin s had been ressed agains he chi ing whi e walls n il he whorls o my nger rin s showed whi e in a sea o bl e crayola non- o ic ain . ne er blamed eo le or ha ing mid-li e crises beca se one day reali ed ha co ld be older han he n mber o le ers in my name and didn know i here were r les or remembering who was
art feature ANGEL SONG
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I don’t know how to paint. In each painting, I struggle to mix some visually appealing colors and then apply them to the canvas and hope for the best. The entire process is very “Oh man I hope this comes out alright… okay never mind.” But painting gives me freedom. As a child, I would color perfectly within the lines and discard the drawing immediately if I strayed from them. But with painting, I was allowed to make mistakes; weird accidental strokes had a 43% chance of making the painting look better. There are no boundaries or limits on the canvas, and I’m given full control over my brush. All this newfound freedom and responsibility drove me insane; I never knew where to start. My style is different with each painting, and as my classmate commented, “Every week I see you paint it’s different. One week, you’re standing at the easel and painting; the next, you’re sitting at the easel, and now, you’re sitting on the floor.”
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ANGEL SONG
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ANGEL SONG
art feature
y Wi do
Anthony Chiarenza he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee shi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m scle scle i ering shi er ha kills a man on a s arless nigh . or a momen wo ld ha e liked o die j s o end he shaking. co ldn make mysel close he window. Blow a er blow he wind shook by body in o iolen wis s and rns. y elbows ben back and kno ed in sheer ain as my legs crossed wi h a iolen orce. y ngers cringed backward as i con ained a s range abili y o bend back he i s o my ngers in o coils. y li s c rled and my brea hing became dee and nonrhy hmic. A sensa ion o needles lled my whole body as hese wis s became more e reme. co ld see he ink glossy h e ha lled my hands was s ar ing o disa ear. he rich red blood ha ran hro gh my arm rned oward a r le. y brea hing became slower and calmer. y body s o ed wis ing. Whe her or no co ld mo e a ha oin didn really ma er o me. didn wan o mo e. So sa here or as long as co ld. J s o a oid ha ain. didn wan o do ha again.
Lu e
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Sumaiya Miah
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titled
Michelle Gan
Candy Colored Clothes heodhora hes ollari
You always hated when I wore black, You said I looked like a cadaver Ready to be placed into the ground. But, I think it bothered you because it Was a constant reminder of the Bits of darkness in me, the ones you Couldn’t brighten, no matter how many Pastel and paisley frocks you bought and Watched me drape over my bones that Stuck out like delicately carved jewels. Now I always have black on just to Raise my finger to you from New York.
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You were right trying to keep black off My body - you were right because I Am cold and fickle and black just Attracts more darkness to my being. You were wrong to do it because you Wanted to turn me into a wife. One that would make Costco runs monthly, And spend weekdays adorning the house With lace pillows and burlap curtains, Waiting for you to come home and kiss Me in my periwinkle flare dress. You always hated when I wore black, But it’s the reason I don’t fit with you.
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o a
ilonas
Beholder Asia Acevedo
Violent Delight
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Asia Acevedo
“You know I'll always love you, darling, nished scribbling her no e on he back o her a ori e lyrics. knew her hear wo ld be broken b she always wan ed me o be ha y so was le no o her choice. olded he a er se en imes and i in my ocke . ie ly on my shoes and le he ho se. he air was cool and in i ing knew d miss i m ch oo soon. d miss a lo o hings he way her hair smelled when she leaned in close he way he moon ne er ceased o kiss he sky he so nd o he sh er ca ring an image. B here he wind and he s ars beckoned me and knew hey were wai ing or me like d soon be wai ing or her. was sel sh o wish or her o join me and dance amongs he gala ies b was j s a machine. As s e ed in o my chilled car an ici a ed eeling encased in he dark and cold. y hear ered a he ho gh . rned on he engine no icing my gas was dangero sly low. wasn a ed his was a one way ri and j s had o make i o her ho se and hen he ser ice road. Her a ori e song layed on he s ereo and s ddenly el he a er in my back ocke . he lyrics s ng he back o my eyes and he no e wadded in o a l m a he back o my hroa .
Ge ing back in o he car rned he s ereo back on le ing he chords o an enchan ing classical iola iece emana e so ly rom he s eakers. y head el hea y as he m sic assed hro gh me delica e like her crimson li s. A roaching he ser ice road ress red he ehicle o go as er and as er o oom o in o he a roaching darkness. ook a slow brea h and sighed j s as he classical rack ended.
ll be wai ing among he s ars n il yo decide o come home. re layed ha nigh o er and o er in my con or ed mind. had o nd his no e as mbled hro gh he dark ho se o answer an incessan hone. knew immedia ely wha he had done by he way he scribbled my name on he ron o he iny olded a er. Answering he hone a calm oice in ired i was name hey o nd scrawled on he back o his hand. he ears began o bl r he ebony room as lay awake a sla e o my memory. oc sed hard eno gh o en con inced mysel co ld eel his resence. wo ld wonder i in he dee es corridors o he sky he was really wa ching and wai ing. ic red him ho ogra hing he s ard s and me eors and moonligh . lis ened closely co ld nearly hear he sh er o his camera clicking. hey b ried him near he lake las all. he cool nigh had coa ed he wa er in o er ec ly imi a ing he indigo and diamond sky. remember s anding a ar rom he se en mo rners clas ing he olded no e wi h he lyrics and his le er wri en on each side. he wind seemed o sigh along wi h me he wa er seemed so s ill and beckoning. clenched my eyes ba ed my s s agains my sk ll raying he memory wo ld esca e me. whim ered in o he s ill nigh ro nd ears alling rom my eyes as reco n ed his iolen deligh . f
and I'll be waiting among the stars until you decide to come home.�
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he iole nigh was sli ing away rom me and knew wo ldn be able o esca e in he dayligh . lled o her dark ho se nched in he key code like d done on a ho sand di eren s mmer e enings and gen ly en ered he ho se. le he no e a o a ile o se en en elo es on he mail desk in her oyer. ook one las glance a he s airs leading o her room em ed o crawl in o bed wi h her and mel in o her one las ime. She always giggled so ly when en elo ed o rsel es nder her com or er she sed o ell me she was ne er s ooked when wo ld come in hose random nigh s. wo ld miss her smile and her la gh b had o s ay s rong so ie ly le .
~ woke rom ano her res less sl mber ho elessly wai ing or his amiliar body o con orm o mine. here was no one here ho gh j s he shadows o se en ho sand los memories. had been years since he ragedy b his words s ill whis ered in my ear wi h ha n ing reminders.
Empty Pockets Anonymous
By day all ceaselessly in lo e wi h e eryone who s ares me a ee ing glance. ll my ocke s wi h heir ho es and dreams and ambi ions n il hey re o er owing wi h he okens
e collec ed.
Some imes when m lonely si on my ki chen oor and co n hem o a ho sand nra eling my ears as go along and ry o re end ha can s ill smell my mo her s a ori e er me as her heels clicked hro gh he small a ar men . y mom hrew away ha er me ho gh. ad didn like i anymore.
Little Red Riding Hood Othria Ahmed
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And he ears ha e now ar s r ass he ho sand had when my ocke s were s ill ll.
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Will You Be My Company Nicholas Rahim
o o ut
u y ou
Sarah Iqbal
Untitled Janice Ho
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A homeless man once old me ha my so l looked as i i as ed like cocon c rry so and eered aro nd he brim o his ba ered ha in o his e ally ba ered ace and saw ha his eyes were closed as ho gh he were as ing he so or himsel and hey s ayed closed as wen y dollars in o he em y Cam bell s so can by his side beca se some eo le deser e rewards sim ly or no being dead when he world wis s heir arms behind heir backs. hink sad ho gh s in yo r arms knowing ha my sadness co ld be dissol ed ar more easily han when si on he orien al car e ing by mysel illow cl ched o ches sobs racking my body la e in o he nigh when m daring mysel o see how m ch sorrow can eel be ore eel like clawing my hear o o my ches . B hell s be er i here s someone here o share he s ay so le my ngers lay wi h yo rs while considering he ro er ies o so ls and whe her hey all ook he orm o Asian c isine. wen carrying erware lled wi h cocon c rry so o an em y s ree corner where was old ha he ba ered man wi h he ba ered ace had go en and walked in o he a h o an oncoming a i and knew he was wondering abo he as e o his own so l.
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Kari Iocolano
t s
he e tly T ue Th t
o ey T l s
Noel Du
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Anna Kim
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o all eo le are born e al is a ho gh and idea alone ha we can be in any small ossible way Beca se some eo le were born in cas les swaddled in silk and ba hed in holy wa er already an heir o he hrone and some eo le were dro ed o he has ily swe oor rom a ros i e s bo om o he boards below a sl mdog e ermore Beca se some eo le were deli ered in h mble hos i als by a ired weak mo her s rro nded by a ew whi e and nder aid n rses and some eo le were ne er born a all hey disa eared rom he womb and ne er saw he sigh o his wre ched world dri ing owards nir ana s or hanage.
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Najila Zaman
(Untitled) Anonymous
When he s n shines he dark a ches in li e become ri ial. e when he s n recedes we dwell on he darkness o he resen ra her han cherishing he ligh o he as as we become blind o he iny a ches o ligh l rking in he corners o darkness.
(Untitled) Katie Wu
Untitled Anna Kim
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Clay re rns o ri er sil And rns benea h he armer s hoe. he ar is closes em y l hy hands Aro nd his weary so l.
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Changeling’s Lament Jason Lalljee
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Delphine Zheng
Brigh ligh s l ngs screaming o as e air lo e s reaming o o yo r mo her And yo r a her as he s ood here wa ching o were an in an . alling a no ch below edes rian mean yo r mobili y was de ermined By he whims o ad l s o r me hods o ra el being Cocked elbows and hands ready o li yo in o he air Ad l s coddling and cooing o er he blood re sing o lea e yo r cheeks Or he sli ery owdery skin no ye de elo ing a callo s o hose willing o harm i Red li s in a ermanen cker Which rela i es s ck heir noses in o Wi h he insis ence o moles digging in o ear h And yo were lo ed wi ho an as erisk Wi ho a b or a howe er or a read he ne rin o hing was aken or gran ed And no hing was grea er and grander and more im or an han he essel o which yo layed hos Bi s o a ec ion lched B rea ed like m ns in a baske held o o asserby on he s ree Relin ished nder he condi ion ha yo remembered ha here was someone in he sky who cared or yo B children learn o walk. he wonder drained rom yo r eyes And he s ars ha h ng here like Chris mas ornamen s lickered in and o o heir ll bla e o b rned yo h l ho e away like kerosene Growing older made yromaniacs o s all. he rees shr nk rom heir owers And heir branches no longer seemed o be in danger o nc ring he clo ds Al ho gh hose ha had snagged in he bark h ng here Like abandoned sho ing bags de ermined o o li e heir in ended se hose ha had b ried heir li s in yo r once owdery cheeks
idn consider ha yo may grow o oss heir es ablished creeds away Became more and more heino sly ied Like lin sca ered along abric Or ha when he baby a disa eared And all ha remained were nkissable hollows hey wo ldn really wan o hold yo hen And i hey did hey were j s clinging o he han om esh ha had somehow come away as he s rings o ime And i was a sel sh lo e Like being kissed in he rain by he girl yo s en years ining or o caring ha she sha ered he lane on which yo s ood Wi h her dri le-ma ed embrace J s ha she d ne er been kissed in he rain be ore And had o do i he one ime o wondered i she co ld see he remains o yo r hear Sli be ween he sewer gra es wi h he raindro s wasn like yo r rs kiss When yo and he girl-ne -door bo h so gh o ake all yo co ld rom one ano her hinking ha i wo ld be as sim le as sli ing a key in o a lock B i was all ee h and chins and swea y skin And hands mbling in yo r ocke s or a ologies Li s only coming oge her as an a er ho gh he bridges o yo r noses aligning and breaking away rom one ano her Like rain racks coming oge her and di erging in o wo B yo signed no con rac o irre able m ali y When yo r aren s a changeling in yo r lace and sang him o slee And yo didn ge he chance o ro e yo r gra i y When hose who romised o hold on o yo ore er le go B were s ill s r rised when yo didn disa ear Like children who d los heir gri on balloon s rings Beca se yo r weren a ossil A hing o be reser ed nder he nblinking eye o memory o were lo ed.
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o were born.
photography feature SOFIA MILONAS
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My camera goes almost everywhere I do. I am constantly taking pictures in an attempt to capture the beauty of the wide range of human emotion I see around me. I love that I can share this beauty through my pictures. I think there is something magical about capturing one moment out of the day, taking it out of context, and being able to inspire people to think and feel, about that specific scene in time, in a way they have never done before. I love that you can use lines and light to make people see things that they might have missed, or didn’t take note of, or forgot about. I take pictures because I want to create beauty; because life looks better in stills. I take pictures because it allows me to capture this beauty and share it with others.
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SOFIA MILONAS
photography feature
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SOFIA MILONAS
photography feature
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SOFIA MILONAS
photography feature
he eam o edi ors -- he ar ic la e ar is he debonair wri er he hiloso hical ho ogra her he grace l layo edi or he s ern b siness manager and he s a e edi ors-in-chie -- o en he o ce e ery morning a an ngodly ho r and close e ery e ening when he ghos s o he school come o o do heir s s ec ed ri al ha n ings. When he edi ors s e back and ll he c r ains a ar hey re eal he cas a eam o eccen ric s den s wi h many hidden alen s. Brigh er han he mos l mino s asar and dee er han he ariana rench hey can de elo heir own wi y jargon and n receden ed ges res on he s o in con ersa ion.
HOW WE WORK
ring he weekly mee ings he eam o edi ors and s a members si along a hal circle and democra ically o e on which ieces sho ld or sho ld no be acce ed in o he maga ine. he a hors o each iece are remo ed d ring he j dging rocess so as o ens re ll anonymi y and air cri i ing amongs he s a members. On o her days he big gro s li s in o smaller branches wi h a s eci ic edi or a he helm. he ar edi or erha s wo ld roam he b ilding and he cam s wi h he yo nger ar is s and seek ins ira ion. he li erary edi or wo ld ose a care lly cra ed rom ha he wri ers re ly o in a as e l ye en er aining way. he ho ogra hy edi or wo ld congrega e aro nd a gian com er and ick o he bes s bmissions or e en go on a crea i e o ing aro nd he ci y o ake ho os o ins ira ional sigh s. owards he end o he year as acce ed s bmissions begin o acc m la e he layo edi or s ar s on he c lmina ing edi ion o he maga ine. deas or he maga ines are ossed back and or h among he edi ors. Some no ions may end ei her li erally or g ra i ely in he rashcan. inal decisions are made. Once an idea is liked agreed on and weaked hea ily he edi ors all ge o work. he nal rocess is hen done and redone e ensi ely. A er 1 or 1 or 123 dra s and mock- s he nal book is rod ced sa ed as a P and sen o o he rin ers. he blishers send s a co y o he nal mockwhich is hen horo ghly e amined care lly wi h he ad isor and he edi ors. O r correc ions are sen back o hem and he nal rod c is deli ered o s in b ndles ha are sold o he s den body.
Editors-in-Chief
STAFF ROLES
When these two suave chicks strut in and swiftly swipe their black Ray Bans off, the team of editors turn and listen. They promote the publication over various social media websites, and commandeer the ship across rough waves. They run The Phoenix and smoothly coordinate the production of the magazine.
Literary Editor
This affable editor strives to inspire the writing staff to generate outstanding pieces of writing. His encouraging and nurturing nature helps the staff improve their pieces. One of his biggest jobs is to select and edit submitted writing pieces by using his keen eye for intricacy, grammar, originality, and style.
Layout Editor
This nimble editor can morph and remorph any element on programs such as Photoshop ® and InDesign ®. She expertly arranges and rearranges all the accepted artwork and photography to fit collectively with the poetry and prose. She transforms the intangible ideas of all the editors into the physical production of The Phoenix.
Art Editor
It’s easy for this editor to create the intricacies of contemporary art and style. She’s prepared for anything, whether it’s leading the art staff on an activity, designing an eye-catching poster for an upcoming Phoenix event, critiquing submitted art, or searching for pieces from the undiscovered artists of the school.
Photography Editor
The most divine riches and rarest jewels in the world do not attract this composed editor as much as her extravagant camera does. It’s draped around her neck as she observes and captures the world through the eye of the lens. She assesses submitted images along with the photography staff.
Business Manager
The exigent business manager knows exactly how much money our finances consist of down to the half-cent. She organizes and heads fundraisers for the magazine, seizing every opportunity to increase revenue for The Phoenix.
Writing Staff
This is a group of logophiliac students who have strands of poems scrawled in their math notebooks in lieu of pythagorean theorems. At regular meetings, they respond to an interesting prompt given to them by the literary editor and
in their math notebooks in lieu of pythagorean theorems. At regular meetings, they respond to an interesting prompt given to them by the literary editor and generate submissions for the magazine.
Photography Staff
The camera lens is the medium of expression for this group of kids. They critique photographs and look for elements of artistic merit in each one. They view the world through their camera lenses and make sure to expose another piece of it in each picture they take.
Art Staff
Wielding paintbrushes and sporting charcoal on their hands, this compilation of imaginative students create works of art that blossom with originality and vivid color. At regular meetings, they can often be found fiddling with folding paper as they review and critique art submissions for the magazine.
Critiquing Staff
Falling in love with a piece of writing is a familiar feeling to this assemblage of students. At regular meetings, they congregate in a circle and read countless writing submissions, providing genuine feedback to the author of a piece. They have an immense appreciation for the originality, beauty, and technical knick-knacks that tie a story or poem together and ensure that the best of the best submissions are published in the magazine.
As usual, there is a plethora of people that are responsible for making sure that this year’s edition of The Phoenix could come into existence. While producing this year’s exceptionally special issue, we came to understand the extent to which the Phoenix community is based on thirty years of Harrisites’ collaboration. Frank Polizzi, Helen Rizzuto, Robert Babstock, Rafal Olechowski, and their teams of skilled editors have contributed countless hours to keeping the light of the publication alive. Without their continuous efforts, both during their time in the school and beyond, we would not have quite the vibrant or familial community that we do today. We would especially like to thank Mr. Babstock and Ms. Rizzuto, who always encourage their students to support the publication and community as a whole. This gratitude is extended to all the teachers of the Townsend Harris Humanities Department for instilling a love of the arts into their students.
THANK YOU
In addition, the alumni of Townsend Harris always play a pivotal role in the book’s production. Whether members of the Alumni Association are benefactors of the publication or are introducing new opportunities to current students, there is a clear support of the arts amongst all of the people who have walked the halls of Townsend Harris. We would also like to thank Mr. Barbetta for ceaselessly supporting Phoenix events and fundraisers as well as for always advocating for the Phoenix community amongst the student body. Without a shepherd, the sheeple that spend all of their free time in rooms 403 and 404 wouldn’t have all that much direction. Mr. Olechowski selflessly gives up his time, front office, and peace and quiet to make sure that the members of The Phoenix have a home within the school. We owe him countless cups of coffee and our eternal gratitude for being there for us throughout the entirety of the book’s production and for helping us to navigate our time at Townsend Harris. Last but definitely not least, a book can not be created without the efforts of a hardworking staff. The members of The Phoenix are some of the most passionate people that we have ever met. Their care for The Phoenix as both a publication and a community is the reason why it has lasted for as long as it has. It is our inspiration each and every day. Mr. Anthony Barbetta Principal Mr. Rafal Olechowski Assistant Principal of Humanities & Advisor
This publication was produced using Adobe 速 InDesign 速 page layout software and Photoshop 速 image-editing software. The typefaces used are: Helvetica Neue AB DEF HIJKL NOP RS a cde ghi klmno stuvw yz
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Helvetica Neue Regula Hel e ica e e Ligh Helvetica eue ight talic elveti eue Bold Minion Pro ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890 ?!@#$% Minion Pro Regular Minion Pro Bold Minion Pro Italic Minion Pro Bold Italic Calibri ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890 ?!@#$% Calibri Light
Production Notes: Publishing Xpress 29777 Stephenson Highway Madison Heights, MI 48071
Cover: #100 Matte Cover Digital Color Process
Text: #80 Matte Text Digital Color Process
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