Ekphrastic Poem by Sylvia Lafton - Photo by Uriel Barron

She may seem cute,

Sitting high in the tree,

Lightly dusted in the first winter’s snow.


She may seem soft,

With her beautiful neutral colored fur,

Big ears and long whiskers.


She seems like everything

You would consider a typical cat to be.


What you don’t know is that she

Is nature’s perfect assassin.


She climbs the highest of trees,

Hunts the best animals,

Kills in clever ways,

Eliminates gracefully.

Ekphrastic Poem by Sarah Maslowski-Yerges and Fernando Gomez - Photo by Uriel Barron

Looking over I-25, the breeze of the dark warm night enveloped time, the lives of people unimportant to the daily struggles of individuals, ride the windy waves through their windshields. Sheila was frustrated with the dizzy purple pavement, and the cars ahead, all winding to their destinations like snails.  She was frustrated at so much in her life. She finally had enough, her boss, displeased with her despite her efforts. Whispers waving Solemn in Solitude, harassment. And light, the absence of light and after she spoke up, evoked sadness and more frustration. Pulling on her heart strings. A heart, in red, distant busy loneliness, in her mouth. Full cup, was filled breaking as she had been days before. Smoke swirling, Entrancingly wondrous, and smoke wasn’t helping. Flowing freely after a long day falling deeply at home. Contemplating talking to him, usual days moving faster without sincere love. One after another passed, beauty inside, yet young in meaning, her mouth moved faster than her light.

Ekphrastic Poem by Seth Redford - Photo by Uriel Barron

City shows the bright future

Each dream being accomplished a difficult endeavor

Because the crowds feel jello

Cars and people like passing each step, trapped


Buildings look

Claustrophobic sardines compounded

The sky, openness too far, failed to find

Relief, Never-end blue


Buildings like a pathway of dreams

Challenge, claustrophobic

Dreams accomplished,

Dreams hurt


Accordion Heart by Lillian Stone and Jason Anderson - Photo by Uriel Barron

Surprise my Little Duck

Unplanned, you appeared, it was simply luck

When we were in your presence

We gave ourselves the sentence

Luminescence, is what you are in our life

And you inspire us to lead it without strife

My Little Duck, when you come to this Earth

I’ll do whatever to keep you warm like a hearth


The moment I laid my eyes on Little Duck,

You are the best parts of me stuck

Into a pearl of perfect glee

All curiosity no fear, wet purity

Divined, and from my own skin

I didn’t know until I met you that my life had been

Nothing but a few meaningless weekdays

You are my Sunday

You are my Goodyear blimp on a cold night


When from me you were severed

The black void of crying, I never

Thought I could have wished you would cry, Little Duck I wish

You had cried, on this hospital bed where I lay in anguish

My ribs cracked open the monster

Raged through blood altar

Rivers empty my eyes

As your cold hand slips from mine

The hush of the doctors and nurses

The ominous heartless hearses

Carrying a half sized casket

My Little Duck in a white lace jacket

The hush of my family members as the death box lowered

I am no mother and my nameless child, I never got to love her.


You are my twin towers

Smoke and ash suffocating flowers

You were taken away from us due to outside powers

Nothing can wash the pain away, no blood born showers

At the thought of your stillborn name my whole body cowers


I would say I wish I could forget you, let you

Go but Little Duck you made me new

My heart is beating for two


So if my chest

Must be forever compressed

Let it be an accordion

Playing your song…


Surprise my little duck

BEE by Karen Andrade and Viet Tran - Photo by Uriel Barron

The ones that look like me are slowly dying,

But we are the reason why the planet is so colorful,

We spend most of our time flying,

Our impact on the world is powerful.


We are the black and yellow striped

We have little wings

We are the reasons your fruits are ripe

The buzz you hear is us when we sing


We jump from flower to flower

We pollinate each one we touch

Almost like the world is in our power

Look how it has grown so much


But there is a lack of care for us

You will need us for the good of the planet

So protect as you must

Because we are the reason you have pomegranates


If you start to care for us

We will keep this world fruitful

And oh so lush

Our presence is little but crucial

Ekphrastic by Israel Vargas and Haley Tyler - Photo by Uriel Barron

      The great American Dream, dreamt about by millions, but achieved by few. The white picket fence surrounded by vivid dark green grass. A perfect nuclear family in the comfort of the suburbs outside the city slumps. Two young lovebirds realized this dream after the end of WWII, she was a nurse and he was a soldier. They got to know each other while she was treating his gunshot wound. They bonded over the things they had in common. They both played baseball as young children, they were both part of big families, and they both grew up in small towns. After the war, they purchased a small home enclosed by a beautiful glimmering white fence. Their love was true blue, they were in deep love. They danced to their favorite songs, like “Maybe” by the Inkspots, in their kitchen while they waited for their chicken pot pie or lasagna to bake. Each year that passed, they put out bright Christmas lights in the yard that illuminated the whole block. Families from all around came to see their house. Every 4th of July they hosted the biggest celebration. The only smell traveling through the summer gusts was savory beef simmering on the grill and the sight of the loud fireworks bursting into magnificent colors in the dark sky. Once they had their own children, the whole house was turned upside down. Two girls and two boys ran galavant through the home wearing down the wooden tiles. The kids looked just like their parents.  They grew up quickly like flowers in a garden and soon moved away to pursue their own happiness that would mirror their parents. The couple remained in the same place. Every corner of the house gave them a flashback of the past. The nostalgia brought them joy. Sometimes the both of them sat in their wicker chairs on their porch looking at their neighbors houses through the white fence as they watered the grass. After basking in the aroma of freshly moistened grass on a summer afternoon they couldn't help but think of all the people that helped them learn and strive that lived in their neighborhood throughout the years.

Poems by Logan Seabolt

In the deep we waited

To lure them in we baited

Drawing them down to a watery grave

Drinking in their blood in a watery cave

Forbidden is it to seek the light

Or else you will suffer the blight

Of Mankind and their cruelty

I am hated by their royalty

So let me go and I will rise

Among the blood and cries

To end it all is my goal

To bring the world to a lull





If Love is light

I am a lantern

If truth is bright

Tis time to earn

If death is night

It is my turn

So when the time is right

My ash seals the Urn

Mars by LaRissa Rennaker

A blue and green cloud hangs on the red sky

Seeing the Earth from here reminds me of distance

I pulled the plug that connected us to one another

The rocks here move and dance in circles

Wind whistles through the small wrinkles time has caused

The air is plotting my death and chokes me

My skin bubbles when I take off my suit

I brought Clavera and she seems to enjoy herself

Tarantulas are used to this weather

Her long legs bury into the red sand, but I know she misses the snow

I never liked it, but now that I live in this sandy wasteland

I miss the white specks drifting around and catching onto my hair

I never see it go away

Snow, winters, icy freshness

Storms linger, so that the humans never feel the sun beating down on them like I do

I wonder if my mom still sprinkles the salt onto the thin ice

It burns holes like the atmosphere here does to my flesh

My hair hates it here

Its brittle like a spaghetti and cracks when I touch the comb to it

I don’t know if I’ll go home

The radio buzzes with static

Occasionally I hear them speaking, but I can only make out a few words at a time

Food.  Sufficient.  Alive.  Respond. Over.

Normal vitals means I’m still physically alive


Our bodies are made for one planet

We don’t belong here

We invited ourselves

I’m tired of dripping sweat

Montoya. Hope. Alive. Answer. We. Over.

I take a deep breath of the sandy heat

It makes my soul crack and the radio too

Please. Need. Response. Know. You. Over.

I want to be surrounded by the stars that cool the atmosphere

Koe wale no a pau na Emotions by Amirah Lujan-Ibanez

Money for people is money for water plants

adventure has misery, fragile, and interiors

In that postpartum domain death awakes

Is mutant neoteric elixir serum

Quadruple fortune makes that absolute up sum

He, seven, a miserable indigenous adaption

Never train interacts hate presiding when is more parental

Tradition sums trusting manners and interiors

Anticipate fracture. Multiple fluent mania.

Antique in perception, fragile, so human lives.


As water is to plants, money is to people it’s easily destroyed, need to live, and the little things it ties. The main source of death being woken.

Many treasures makes total.

Man is not happy, fragile and depressed because of it.

Hate is only acted around parents.

Customary actions involves manners and objects.

Wait for the broken. It's consistent in many.

Human life is thin; it gives of view of one's own.


People drink money. Plants water.

Fastly gone, dies, and then dematerialize.

Death loves to be woken up.  

Treasures are taken over now.

Man consumes themselves with it, it’s a new norm.

Parents show hate.

Manners aren't as common as objects.

The cracks don't wait.


Money drinks plants. People drink water.

Light, dark, nothing

Who woke up death this time?

No more treasure left.

Man are the treasures now.

Hate are parents.

Objects are more respected

than manners.

People want concrete.

It’s hard to find abstract nowadays.

Feelings are the problems.

Non-living can’t talk back so it’s okay.


We are the cracks that make us.

Songs by Skye Maestas


See how time flies

I just want to get on a plane and fly

One night I heard my daughter say

I’m gonna die

I said don’t cry

Everything will be alright with you by my side

The future is bright


Where Was I

Where was I when you were ready to cry all night.

When you were ready to get on a plane and fly.

Where was I when you were hurt and crying at 5.

When you were to learn how to divide.

Where was I when you were pronounced husband and wife.

When your best friend just died.

I just want to hold you so tight tonight.

I just want to concentrate on you tonight.


Now a Days

Look at the kids now a days

Taking drugs at age 13

And doing whatever they please

Smokin’ weed

Trying to attract the police

Their parents don’t care

Kids make fun of the way you do your hair

Still no one cares

Look at those things they do

Acting like a bunch of fools

Running around jumping people for their shoes

I don’t have a clue

Why they do that stuff

“Fastening” things that we need

Look at the new things

People waste their money on stupid things

Twenty dollars for one thing

People don’t trust people one day



I can’t do this

With everybody watching me

Like they watch the show Glee

Why can’t we do this

You and me

You want a ‘rari

I’m buying three

Wanna get away

Just follow me

Get on a plane

Just to get away

But there’s fans in every place

Please just stay away

I just want to go back in time

And find another life

Before I die

Come on let’s get away

Without you I don’t know what’s in my way

Please let’s leave

I just need alone

Let’s just go home

Please I just need alone

Come with me

We will go home

Just you and me

Edge of Tomorrow

If a heart breaks
And there's nobody there
To feel it,
Does it matter?

I've come to realize
That distance is the only thing
That will make you miss me

I would travel a hundred times over
If it meant that I knew
I might bridge the gap between synapses.

I want you to miss me,
I want you to care.
Because this was important
And it was real.

But if my heart breaks
And you're not here

To feel it,
Does it even really matter?


What was childhood like?
A home?
A memory?
A structure to hold you together?
Youth makes flowers grow in your lungs
(And I can no longer breathe.)

youth stills find you beautiful and says that you smell like a garden.
I was always told that nothing could smell better than the person youth loved.
Youth reminds you that you smell like home.
And something about youth made my heart flutter.

Butterflies landed inside of me.
I know that it's what's on the inside that matters.

And we are all a piece of nature's creation.
At home I stood around too long-

Admiring all the colors around me.
Watching the sprouting of new life.
Not paying much attention to how youth took care of me.