Themes on an Exit Novelty, and I’m not sure— Yesterday I felt a casual breeze and the loneliness of previous autumns came rushing back. I have the sense, or the symptom that the more I lose in sleep the more myself I become. It carves around myself: I pare down more tender, sore and supple, organic bruises beneath my eyes cosplay something more lovely. Winter is coming. It’s a warning.…
Hope Yang is a sophomore at Hanszen College majoring in English and exploring Cognitive Sciences. In her free time, she enjoys making art, listening to–and occasionally playing–music, and admiring fish.
for the impending season after Pat Scheider and Richard Scott an open window is generous it lets in rain the heart of change is apricitic inevitable eye contact singes sleep like smoke suspends in intimacy I say wake up darling …
Come to The Sea i want to be beautiful like the ocean the kind of beauty that reminds you of your own a mirror, a glimpse like staring into yourself like scooping from within let grains of sand slip through to drag you towards me i want to be beautiful the kind of beauty that brings clarity and alertness as you dive right in salty air and salty tongue take…
For the full PDF of Hoyt’s chapbook, click here: Praxis – Elena Hoyt Elena Hoyt is a junior at Rice from Sydney, Australia, majoring in English with a Concentration in Creative Writing. She’s an intern at Bloomsday Literary and CoEditor in Chief of R2 where she argues about punctuation for fun. Recently, she’s gotten really into Sudoku. This chapbook was inspired by Susan Howe’s collage poetry, especially her collection That…
Electra Woman and her Battery-Powered Headaches by Sarah Roberts My eyes are squeezed tight and suffocating under three layers of blanket as if the pain in my forehead could be snuffed out. But still, the light is blinding, my mind ablaze like glow-sticks cracked a few too many times. I snapped one all the way open once. I remember how the fluorescence seeped out, sinking into palms of my…
The Haunting of The Bazaar By Meghna Yennu You used to tell me that the if you dug deep enough anywhere, you could always find roots if you searched hard enough. Look!, you whispered in that way you used to get when you were all excited, this is how the trees steal life. Hands deep in the dirt, the fingers traced over the bark, like one would old…
