Photo by Marley Kinsman-D'Augustine
Photo by Marley Kinsman-D'Augustine
Embedded Files
Poppy Seed Benches
Poppy Seed Benches
by Joey Iozzi
by Joey Iozzi
Rittenhouse Square, Philadelphia
Rittenhouse Square, Philadelphia
The corner of Walnut & 18th St
The corner of Walnut & 18th St
I spy two eyes looking less for spare change, and more for a compromise.
I spy two eyes looking less for spare change, and more for a compromise.
He sits in park benches after getting a sesame seed bagel for one.
He sits in park benches after getting a sesame seed bagel for one.
His dirty fingernails pick off seeds as they fall into one of his palms.
His dirty fingernails pick off seeds as they fall into one of his palms.
but in park benches no one dares to plant seeds where they know they don’t belong.
but in park benches no one dares to plant seeds where they know they don’t belong.
He’s seen men beat their hearts black and blue to keep themselves from tears but his bruises are yellow, healing holds no fears.
He’s seen men beat their hearts black and blue to keep themselves from tears but his bruises are yellow, healing holds no fears.
these seeds in his hand cost him
these seeds in his hand cost him
an extra 48 cents
an extra 48 cents
an extra 48 hours
an extra 48 hours
an extra two days of people flicking pity coins to his feet so he can see if he still tastes redemption after 48 years.
an extra two days of people flicking pity coins to his feet so he can see if he still tastes redemption after 48 years.
These seeds stuck in the crevices of his hands and some stuck under his fingernails fell through his fingertips.
These seeds stuck in the crevices of his hands and some stuck under his fingernails fell through his fingertips.
placed on the bench beside him.
placed on the bench beside him.
a blue jay joins him at the edge to pick at his sesame seeds.
a blue jay joins him at the edge to pick at his sesame seeds.
Blue
Blue
His eyes, although lifeless, stream blue tears like rivers down his cheeks. Warm mountain springs trapped like dams in his dimples, cleansing dirt from his crows feet.
His eyes, although lifeless, stream blue tears like rivers down his cheeks. Warm mountain springs trapped like dams in his dimples, cleansing dirt from his crows feet.
I wonder how many men see this man weep and think he is insane for simply craving company.
I wonder how many men see this man weep and think he is insane for simply craving company.
Red
Red
by Gabby Argento
by Gabby Argento
Everywhere you touched me,
Everywhere you touched me,
red marks were left.
red marks were left.
There were hand prints on my palms,
There were hand prints on my palms,
on my waist,
on my waist,
and fingerprints on my face.
and fingerprints on my face.
I always used to admire these flushed, rose-colored
I always used to admire these flushed, rose-colored
markings whenever I gazed into the mirror,
markings whenever I gazed into the mirror,
simply because they reminded me of you.
simply because they reminded me of you.
But after some time,
But after some time,
I couldn’t help but wonder
I couldn’t help but wonder
why exactly they were red.
why exactly they were red.
Did they represent love,
Did they represent love,
Or Passion?
Or Passion?
It wasn't until after you left
It wasn't until after you left
that I'd realize their true meaning...
that I'd realize their true meaning...
Pain.
Pain.
Photo by Kaylie Tanella
Photo by Kaylie Tanella
Photo by Julia Drewes
Photo by Julia Drewes
Roses
Roses
by Gabby Argento
by Gabby Argento
A garden full of roses, slightly sway as a breeze flows through each one of their pedals.
A garden full of roses, slightly sway as a breeze flows through each one of their pedals.
Each flower is distinctly beautiful in its own way.
Each flower is distinctly beautiful in its own way.
Some are stained crimson, while others a quiet blush.
Some are stained crimson, while others a quiet blush.
They sit in the garden innocently.
They sit in the garden innocently.
Awaiting the day where they will be picked and arranged into bouquets of beauty,
Awaiting the day where they will be picked and arranged into bouquets of beauty,
But they're deceiving.
But they're deceiving.
They’re elegance is but a mask,
They’re elegance is but a mask,
Don’t let their alluring vibrancy blind you.
Don’t let their alluring vibrancy blind you.
Just remember, they never come with a warning so,
Just remember, they never come with a warning so,
I’ll give it to you myself...
I’ll give it to you myself...
Watch out for thorns.
Watch out for thorns.
Photo by Hannah Drew
Photo by Hannah Drew
Photo by Madhavi Steinert
Photo by Madhavi Steinert
Photo by Marley Kinsman-D'Augustine
Photo by Marley Kinsman-D'Augustine
Recipe for Less Tolerant Muffins
Recipe for Less Tolerant Muffins
by Jacob Maglies
by Jacob Maglies
Ingredients (For A Dozen Muffins)
Ingredients (For A Dozen Muffins)
1 Egg
1 Egg
3 Teaspoons of baking powder
3 Teaspoons of baking powder
2 Cups of the wrong kind of flour
2 Cups of the wrong kind of flour
½ Teaspoon of sea salt
½ Teaspoon of sea salt
1 Cup of your least favorite color of sugar
1 Cup of your least favorite color of sugar
1 Cup of pig’s milk
1 Cup of pig’s milk
½ Cup of crude oil
½ Cup of crude oil
A worn out copy of Where the Wild Things Are
A worn out copy of Where the Wild Things Are
Butter (Optional)
Butter (Optional)
Step one: Mix wet ingredients in a bowl not big enough to fit everything. Get overly frustrated when ingredients inevitably spill out onto your freshly cleaned counter. Loudly complain to no one in particular, shout things like “Damn bowl!” and “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” before transferring the mixture to a larger bowl
Step one: Mix wet ingredients in a bowl not big enough to fit everything. Get overly frustrated when ingredients inevitably spill out onto your freshly cleaned counter. Loudly complain to no one in particular, shout things like “Damn bowl!” and “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” before transferring the mixture to a larger bowl
Step two: Add dry ingredients, and continue mixing, mix with your bare hands, because you lost your job to someone who will do it for less money, and you can’t go around wasting your savings on a stupid whisk or whatever
Step two: Add dry ingredients, and continue mixing, mix with your bare hands, because you lost your job to someone who will do it for less money, and you can’t go around wasting your savings on a stupid whisk or whatever
Step three: Pour mixture into a standard muffin tray. You’ll find that it only fills eleven of the twelve spaces. Check the recipe again to make sure it says a dozen. It says a dozen right? Yeah, a dozen, why don’t you have a dozen? Berate yourself for being too stupid to make god damn muffins
Step three: Pour mixture into a standard muffin tray. You’ll find that it only fills eleven of the twelve spaces. Check the recipe again to make sure it says a dozen. It says a dozen right? Yeah, a dozen, why don’t you have a dozen? Berate yourself for being too stupid to make god damn muffins
Step four: Bake at 350 degrees in a gas lit oven. Sit in front of the oven and stare at the muffins as they bake, needing to be sure they come out correctly. Feel your throat get dry as your eyes fill with tears. Curl up on the kitchen floor. Make a noise like a wounded beast gasping for air. Everyone is gonna think you’re a moron. You are a moron. You’re just acting like you know what you’re doing, and everyone else knows it. Turn your hate outward, at everyone else, in a desperate attempt to feel better about the miserable wreck of a person that you’ve become
Step four: Bake at 350 degrees in a gas lit oven. Sit in front of the oven and stare at the muffins as they bake, needing to be sure they come out correctly. Feel your throat get dry as your eyes fill with tears. Curl up on the kitchen floor. Make a noise like a wounded beast gasping for air. Everyone is gonna think you’re a moron. You are a moron. You’re just acting like you know what you’re doing, and everyone else knows it. Turn your hate outward, at everyone else, in a desperate attempt to feel better about the miserable wreck of a person that you’ve become
Step five: Let cool on a wire rim baking sheet before serving with butter
Step five: Let cool on a wire rim baking sheet before serving with butter
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