Everything I couldn't say, John Zurz

See the sun set in your eyes, the moon rise by your side
I don’t know how to say it, but I do
It’s a feeling from deep inside—comes out when I look at you
Wind blows through your hair
And I can’t help but think
Wish that I could take it all back
That you would take me back
If only you knew what I couldn’t say
On the tip of my tongue, I can’t find the words
It’s that rose blooming at your feet, the prayer’s saving grace
The slight of hand that made you smile
The joke that made you laugh, your eyes sparkle
Like those stars in the sky, oh how I wish I could say
That I could tell you, that I love you


- For those two whose names I don’t know, but I took a picture of anyway. If only they showed up in it. Hope everything turned out ok.

An Open-ended Letter to My Babies in The Writing Center, joanna vogel

Hello my lovelies! Hello my beautiful writers and readers (and you few Math and Physics studiers!), who continuously surprise me by sacrificing sleep to dredge up to the fifth floor and take up the pen (or pencil Jonathan, or pencil)!

Hello and… I suppose… goodbye? Oh, how I loathe leaving you all! For who else would I buy countless chocolate munchkins at seven o’clock in the morning and sacks of oranges to sell at bake sales? For who else would I obsess and obsess and… obsess?

Maybe I’m just a writer and, as such, am abusing the tendency to over-dramatize but, really, look, my friends, at all that we’ve been able to create in such a short time! We’ve eaten, we’ve studied math and science, we’ve held bake sales, kibitzed, partied, read, listened, laughed, ridden the F Train, banished some words and badly abused others.

We’ve written up a storm.

Now, as I leave you, I’m full of some kind of strange, almost heartbreaking sentiment. Sort of like a big fat mother bird flying out of the nest, just as her eggs have hatched and are chirping to be fed. Only, now you will have to fend for yourselves. You’ll get no regurgitated worms from me! (Well, maybe just a few, if you ask really nicely…)

But, hasn’t it been lovely?

Yes, it has. And now hopefully you’ll all learn from my many shortcomings this year and continue on to be even more beautiful and wonderful than you were when I was there to yell high-pitched prompts at you and snap my fingers for your extraordinary poetry and prose. And, while I’ve neither the time nor the tissues to write each of you poems and letters saying how much I love you and value without end your writing and dedication, know that without the support and hard work of all you pretty people, none of this magic would ever have been even remotely possible.

Thank you so much for playing along, and I hope you got as much out of the Writing Center experience this year as I did. Please keep on sharing the joy and magic of writing and literature with future generations of QHST Writing Center goers.

Peace. And thank you again for making this year so magical for me.

XOXO
-joanna

Cybersoul, Kerri McCord

Mysterious identities collide,
Electric connections of questionable reality link.
Hearts melt together by bruises and bloodshed,
through exposed sentiments and
rectified clumsiness.

Cheating is justified when
one is not satisfied.
Passion travels are heart-stopping distance,
Lack of trust affixes itself to such feelings.
Separation is maintained by fear.

Passion can die in midair,
the only memory of each other lying in
old conversations, instant message boxes.
Two strangers remain apart.