Rule of Order by Martin Tucker

To know a building you must know
The people in it.
And those who don’t.
And those who won’t.
And why.

Flight is not the same as flying
where a return needs a ticket
in exchange for a mistake,
voiding the journey into a
conversation on a place mat.

And changing cities is not the same
As moving
to a different plane

To follow your dream you must
first choose it by yourself
Until you are at peace with your words,
declarations are of no consequence

[reprinted from WORDS 73 (SVA literary journal), edited by Professor Louis Phillips]

Special Delivery by Jessica Olm

Magen is a ghost, or something like it.
I haven’t seen or heard from her in over
a year when the letter arrives.

Hello.
How are you?
I know it’s been a while.

Generic, considering she’s dead.

Do you respond to a ghost’s letter?
Do you give them the satisfaction?
How do you tell a ghost to go away
when you’re happy to hear from them?

[reprinted from WORDS 74 (SVA literary journal), edited by Professor Louis Phillips]

Untitled by Frankie Torres

Inspired by Pablo Picasso’s Guernica

Looking back,
I don’t know how I survived.

I saw the German and Italian aircraft
rear their ugly heads
on Guernica.

I saw them drop their bombs
bombs uncaring of who they impacted,
Bombs destroying those around me,
Taking all with their blast.

I saw people scream,
though those screams did not last.

I saw life cut short,
pained expressions through plumes of
aubergine smoke,
rising, encasing the dead
in its transparent cloak.

I saw walls crumble,
not unlike the opposing sides in
this Civil War.

I saw the planes leave,
their loud engines roared.

I saw the wounded,
contorted in way
nearly impossible for a human,
who probably wished to be
among their deceased fellows.

I saw the sun,
like a lightbulb,
illuminating spilled blood
and crumbled buildings.

I saw the horned devil
himself that day.

Picasso w/ detail of Guernica
Photo by David Seymour, 1937
© The Minneapolis Institute of Arts

Teiresias on Oedipus by Steven Walker

The great king brought down,
blinded in his pride
now blind to the world.
Repenting with anonymity
which will never come.
All people know who he is
and avoid him like the plagues
he caused. He waits for peace
for then his soul will be at ease.
This great man–now great wretch–
was warned but paid no heed,
his punishment just
now, in my eyes.

[assignment: write a poem in the voice of a character in the Theban trilogy]

Li Bai’s Death by Li Pei Huang

The wine poured like a river,
When his boat cut the night apart,
Two moons had been tamed,
Both accompanied him to the end.
He felt that he was able to embrace the moon,
Waiting in the dark currents.
He bent down, then down
The moon broke into sentences,
And merged back perfectly as one poem.

[reprinted from WORDS 74 (SVA literary journal), edited by Professor Louis Phillips]

Down the Hall From a Schizo by Ogun Afariogun

Down the hall from a schizophrenic
Shouting loudly to and from himself
Not as pathetic
As these other city dwellers
Who don’t question and take everything in
Their madness is in their fashion
Their wisdom is dim
The way of the gods won’t die
But sometimes you can’t see it in their eyes…
Covered by smoke
Last night I heard the shouting man say
“You know why people are such assholes?
Their egos!
And believe it or not,
He just said it again, the moment before I was about to type it
Repeating the dialogue to himself
Night after night
Insanity
Just like the sane people
Unwilling to fight
Night after night
The very life(style) that is making the sick.

[reprinted from WORDS 74 (SVA literary journal), edited by Professor Louis Phillips]

Rouse by Yevgenya Ryaboy

This is a two voice poem. Each column can be read separately, or the poem can be read across both columns.

The sun rising                                         Slowly on the horizon
Moved the clouds                                   I saw it and felt it
At the same time                                     Progressing its way
Across the sky                                        Toward its descent
The colors changed                                and I knew
the day had begun                                  the night would be alive
I have waited for this time                      For quite awhile
To awake in my blanket                          I could stay hidden
In the bright daylight                              To live this night
To open my eyes                                     unchained and unleashed
And see this day                                     As if it were my last

[reprinted from WORDS 74 (SVA literary journal), edited by Professor Louis Phillips]

The View by Lydia Shacalo

The world turns slowly.
The ships look like specks of tin,
etched in pen, waves washing in
like ink. The clouds bring a slow
creeping fog. It is right now,
to look at the world.

[reprinted from WORDS 74 (SVA literary journal), edited by Professor Louis Phillips]

Lemon Chicken by Jeremy Cohen

This lemon chicken tasted unusually special
on this date.
I wanted to ask her if it reminded her of something
but it would come off as strange.

We kept talking about mundane things.
nothing too personal.
not even worth talking about.

But the way she spoke was what struck me
I felt like, I don’t know.
I was overthinking.

But the way her lips
made that gentle motion
as she chewed just
reminded me of someone.

But it couldn’t be.
it definitely wasn’t.
I was living across the country now
in a small town.

“Tell me about your first kiss,” I said.