UChicago's Oldest Literary Magazine
First Lagrangian Point After all this world expands, I still carry you,You and your hydrogens, in the light’s decline.I call me insane, I call me unbearable, callow,And fence my bedroom with apologies.I thought I was good to have climbed this branch,That a flaming heart could do nothing but good,But bullets make survivors, not soldiers,And I […]
Read More Poetry: “First Lagrangian Point” by Binh Nguyenentry fee
looping floss around the lame tooth
will lop it off, falling to the pile
like loose change—a mouth
is the entrance to all i am
willing to give you. the markings
on a lover’s neck share the mountains
and valleys on my own arm,
i have yet to taste any other part
of me.
Read More Poetry: “Inside the body museum” by Andrew WalkerAnd of onerous monarchs with tufted wing,
Amber over chestnut, iced oak, winter’s solace they sing.
Born to languish where their starry sons fly
Born in the very brooks where they are destined to die.
Some explore mesas in sweet […]
I’m a rock.
Well, sometimes I say rock, but other times pebble feels more right.
Whatever
The point is
I look up and see your flapping […]
Today it feels as if the impulse of checking
My email on my phone has been reduced
To the firing of a single synapse maybe
That is a deadly topography
The matrices of sensation for […]
She wouldn’t let me kiss her except
in a Japanese garden by the river.
We went there
when snow covered the arched bridge,
the teahouse […]
“Are the living happier than
the dead?” children wonder
when they turn over a scarlet
brick and find a lost Atlantis.
There the worms […]
Every snowflake is an electric light of love, molecular
kisses tissue-thin coasting down from heaven’s
arboretum with drifts of frigid sweet alyssum
falling, falling, falling in pieces carrying remnants of serenity
and angelic peace from that snowy place […]
I keep track of the deepening circles
under my eyes
as if they were redwood rings
showing the number of nights
without sleep […]
Our house sat at the bottom of a hill,
where it all started, where we began,
the ground fertile, but the structure rotten.
It rocked and eventually fell,
the walls crashing outward toward […]
Euphony Journal 