How is the sand that I once lay on? Is it swimming in the Malibu water? Is it flying in the desert wind? How is the sand that I once lay on? How is the water that I first swam in? Is it in the air and stuck in clouds? Is it formed in ice and cold? How is the water that I first swam in? How is the flower that I first grew? Are its petals still growing and falling? Are its roots wrapped around its seed? How is the flower that I first grew? For so long have I been stuck on how I am that I’ve forgotten to ask about the past things in my life. For so long have I been so selfish. But is that wrong? Is my want for joy and healing such a sin? I remember you, sand so soft, water so clear, flower so small. I remember you. Your roots had played the piano keys, your soft sand touched my skin, and your water kissed my neck. You made me laugh, you made me happy... and then we parted. We never said goodbye. You were my joy, but the memory of you brings me pain. So this is my goodbye to you, small flower, soft sand, clear water... Goodbye.

by Anonymous

Solar Relay Race

Solar Relay Race

(By River Allen)

In the evening, the sun took your sorrow with her, slinging it under her arm as she hurtled over the horizon, a molten gold medalist, a celestial olympian. She took your tears, carefully plucked like jewels, like berries, from your cheeks. She peeled your aches, paper-thin and torn in places, from your skin. She left you, bare and blushing, on the cracked earth, the dust exhaling as it gave itself up to the coming rain. 

She's still there, a bluish haze of light, a smear of her perfume on the edge of the world. When she comes back, will she bring your sorrow too? Your aches, your tears? 

I guess that's up to you. 

You lie in the cooling soil and look up at the stars. Soft grass strokes your hair, your cheeks, beckoning you to close your eyes. 

In the distance you hear thunder. Or maybe it's her footsteps. She never stops running, feet thumping, glowing heart hammering, pounding out the rhythm of the solar relay race. Will you extend your hand to take up her baton? Will you run with her, the wind whistling and cheering from the sidelines? 

I guess that's up to you. 

Starry Night Poem

By: Eujean Lee

more than light

you’re more than this light

that shines in the dark night

you glitter and sparkle

and i can’t help but marvel

when i look to the moon

i look around and i see you

i don’t feel lonely anymore

when i lay here on the floor

looking far beyond your light

you are such a wonderful sight


By Cherry X

Don't tell me I'm beautiful if I'm not worth your time.
Don't tell me I'm funny when you aren't even mine.
I think of your compliments way late in the night,
To make me feel warm, to make me feel right.

Your words are like steam, hot comforting and then gone
Much like the way you speed off in your car, blasting dumb songs
Those deep chocolate eyes, the way you hide a smirk
The way your voice echoes when you visit me at work.

The words "Don't catch feelings" leave your mouth sometimes
Making me feel dumb, making you not mine.
As much as I say, "They're just a quick fling"
Every time we talk or kiss you make my heart sing.

So maybe I shouldn't have gotten wrapped up with someone with no time.
Someone who's not even worth being called mine.
The heart works in mysterious and painful ways,
You always leave me longing for brighter, better, days.

To Heal

By Ariana Zamani

I talk about the past things in life that we forget. Sand, water, flowers.. things so small and seem so meaningless but can have the power to give the most meaning. Things that made you smile for just a second... were powerful enough to make you smile for just that second, and can make you smile right now all over again for one more second. I wrote this with the thought of how everything in my past is now. Friends, the first horse I ever met, the first dog I ever pet, the small cat I bought for my use to be best friend, my use to be best friend... I thought about this all and I realized that everything in my past is a memory that runs through my brain and still has the power to strike the heart. A speck of sand can still be left on my skin, that droplet of water could still be trickling down my neck, the roots from that flower can resemble my veins... everything is important, and everything can have the power to heal.

Sunny Sky

By Kate Gabon

For the longest time

You were a light in my life

Days were brighter when you were in them

Warm smiles, radiant eyes

You could make the world go blind

I did.

Suddenly your presence was no longer light

My world went dark

Sucked into your sunshine


All I felt

and saw

was nothing.

Gone was your warmth

Now you’re just a memory

Tainted by the cold.

Works by Mitchie Torres

(the following works are meant to be untitled for the reader to create their own)

Untitled #1

when did it become okay

when did it become okay to be not okay with ourselves

when did it become okay to nit pick at every detail of ourselves

when did this happen

why is it cool and trendy to self hate

why is it more common to see someone hating themselves than loving themselves

why do we picture ourselves as nearly perfect but say otherwise

what can we do to begin a positive change

what caused this negative aura in our society

what would happen if your mother heard what you say about yourself

would your grandma approve of your obsessive nit picking to be the ideal you

would your brother or sister like to hear the obsessive slander of yourself when they look up to you

would you dare say any of the negativity to your own idol

what is self love to you

what can you do to begin self love in you and others around you

what will become of our society when everyone begins to love themselves again

self love, many people need you. it starts with you peeking in now and again.

Untitled #2

the cigarette man is tiny but powerful

enchants you with the stench of tobacco

with the lies of quitting

the cigarette man releases smoke

the warm smoke dancing out of his mouth along with the lies of quitting

the smoke dances along my nose and twirls it’s fingers in my hair

the cigarette man is defined to a smell

a smell i smell in strangers i walk past

maybe they know the dangers of the cigarettes

but not of the cigarette man

the smell of the cigarette man is not one i miss but i get sad when i smell the stench of the dancing smoke frozen into the threads of clothes of strangers walking by

the cigarette man takes the ashes and piles them oh so beautifully into a ceramic bowl along with the withered smoke that once danced beneath my nose

the ash from the stick falls and burns my lip and i was told the cigarette man would quit

but the smoke still danced along my nose

the smoke still twirled it’s fingers in my hair

and the smoke is still dancing in the threads of strangers clothes

in hopes it’s not the same cigarette man that i know

Learning How to Sew

By Olivia Go

I can’t sew

I’ve never been able

Watching me sew is like watching my grandma try to work cable

But you were a great seamstress

I depended on you to fix things right up

You were the potter

I was the broken cup

I thought we worked together

But to you that meant less than today’s weather


I can’t sew

I’ve never been able

And I never really realized what this meant until you weren’t there

Until I realized how much I needed you

And I thought that maybe you needed me too

But I guess I was wrong

Because you found someone new

Didn’t blink twice, never felt blue

And at first I didn’t know how to be on my own

There was a hole in my heart that needed to be sewn

Where were you to fix it?

Off sewing up someone who wasn’t me

They say if you love someone, set them free

But what about me and my hole in my heart

The feeling of loneliness was just bitter not tart

My happiness matters too you know

I guess you really don’t care though


I couldn’t sew

I had never been able

Always holding in my feelings

Living in fear of getting stuck with the “jealous girl” label

You tore my heart and kept a piece of it in your pocket

To be accidentally washed along with some coins and your brother’s toy rocket

It’s a piece I’ll never get back but I piece I have learned to patch

I should thank you even if we weren’t the best match

Because without you, I’ve created the best climate for me to grow

The very best climate for me to sow


By Anonymous


let’s unzip the case to our souls

and let them tell each other stories

about the fire that encompassed them 

caused by the spark we created 


the spark that once was 

the warmth that it emitted 

the fire it birthed

with our love as its fuel,

only together were we able 

to keep this flame alive 


my soul, still vulnerable to you 

i contemplate waiting 

for yours to come back 

and fuel a new flame with mine