Walker

17

Lost Out A Window

self aware in agony
only alive at night
day breaks through bed side curtains
but i cannot see the light

school returns with rapid pace
a train we all must board
18 years our sentence to a structured common core
but not today
today is ours, it’s the last summers we’ve got
my days were filled up to the brim, but with what i’ve now forgot
i toss and turn, i roll and churn, escaping to a dream
mind racing about who and what i’ve learned and chased and seen
faces new
faces old
new people one and all
friends for a single summer, but now we’ll never call
minds eye turns to empty desks
visions of our school
where we laughed and talked and joked as i would race to play the fool

in that spot i felt alone
on that chair i felt holy
in that room i sat at noon, not in class and lowly

here, now, i sit free
lost and doing nothing
summer passed by me so close, but not for one moment touching

Maxwell

17

Pulling The Beds

_this summer is like the night waves
washing over the tops of my feet
illuminated by the full moon
calling
_every rush of salty foam
a gift in collaboration
with my presence
_the moon watches me and
I watch the shimmering film
of ocean retract at my ankles
_and I am conscious
that this shimmering summer
is retracting below me as well

_the smell of thriving tomato plants
bathing in bathtubs
_the sound of a young boy pushing plastic
toys down an empty morning 96th street
-enlightened words of that brilliant old man
in a chair in his tree
crackpipe in hand
never unhappy
_sweaty swamps of ecstatic strangers
dancing and shoving and
holding my hand
_Late night midtown curbs below joy
with brownsville’s face next to mine
and in and out of the window of
a passing police car
_brownsville in a suit
and tie under the M
_the most genius richard with
hammers and cornrows
and power drills and paper ninjas
_blinking with intimidation
to the face of a sunflower
beaming a hundred and thirty feet
above the earth
_the earth
leaching into all forever

_and this time another year
summer will hang on me like ripe tomatos
_and this time another year
I will bath in soil
Below the sunflowers
watching

Jacob

16

"Jackson Pollock"

a match lights
a strike to the sky
a shot calls
and the sparks fly

it sounds like thunder
but it's the best thunder you've ever seen
fireworks
a small stick and a big boom
laced with pastels and paint
Jackson Pollock on the night's canvas

the moon smiles
as she shares her spotlight with the
glowing
brilliant
luminescent cannons fired off into the black
and anyways
she'll be important again tomorrow

and months from now
when i'm sitting in fifth period algebra
i'll always have the memories

of the match's light
strikes being sent up to the sky
shots echoing in the dark
as the sparks fly

Jackson Pollock versus the night

Catherine

14

never-never land

I feel as if the seven hour drive
sitting between rats
throwing Cheez-its at each other
in a new to us but preowned Volvo
fueled on ‘80s love ballads
is worth it,
when I can finally stick my toes in the sand.
I like the simplicity of it,
while the boys have to run around screaming,
and splashing in the now icy water.
We don’t have to worry
about disturbing anyone’s
tranquility,
because by the time we get to the Cape,
it’s eight o’clock anyway,
the only people out are surfers,
and by now I think they’re used to
carsick and antsy six year olds.
Written in the sand, is someone’s name,
almost entirely swept away
by footsteps
and baby carriage tire lines,
and just trenches where children would drag their tired feet
when the day was over.
The name was either Christoper
or Christian,
and the C was outlined with shells,
the h with sea softened rocks,
leaving me to guess that the masterpiece
was left unfinished for the rage of the night sea
to devour,
and for C to come back tomorrow and find
gone.

Charles

17

Summer on the Sound

Sway with me in the vivid moonlight,
Your skin so cold and bright in its surprise,
Our embrace
Fractioned
Across infinite water
In a world founded on fairy’s wings.

Dance with me in the blue midnight
Our foxtrot carpeted
With fruit rinds and discarded favors
Ashamed of the opulence laid out
Like organs on the table;
The silver cigarette case and lush lipstick
That you printed on my neck in perfect symmetry.

Run with me in cerulean gardens,
And all the sirens in a line
Twisting their hands through the smoke,
Past the sundials and brick walls,
The obsidian hedges trap the flames and
The carousel spins on.

Josephine

15

"Popsicle"

It started so whole
A glistening beauty of ice,
Shimmering in the hot sun

Little by little, it was consumed
Savored in cool crystals
Relief from the unending heat

So the days did pass
As ice on a stick
With distraction leading to hurried slurping

And as a coolness rushed
Painfully to the head
Bells and books filled in all around

And down fell the popsicle stick

Anne

17

Were we six or seventeen
when the dock was still made of sturdy brown wood
which I called rock bread
and you, red maple?
We sat, swinging our feet in time with the waves
clicking ice cubes against the backs of our teeth.
This is forever but I see a cloud like a clock and you--
you do not know that the sky is like the dream-catcher hanging from my bed
artificial and deceiving; a mask of truth
[we are not forever, you know]
I am glaring at the blue, so much blue like sky like sea like man like woman
I know, I'm not that stupid
and you close your eyes and slip from the sun-baked dock
like water to rejoin the ocean

Ten seconds-hours-months-years later you appear
[Hello]
the sky is burning, falling on the wings I gave you long ago
[How could you. How could you.]
my eyes are hot and body cold and there is—
there it is, the blue and the blue
I crush the point of convergence between my fingers, sprinkling its dust.

the sky and sea want each other
seep into each other in an infinite line

you dimple slightly, point to the crumbling structure
rock bread, or red maple?
I frown, stomach roiling like a stormy ocean.

[Are you well]
are you good with work, with children, with freedom I gave you
I can see your wings. I can recognize
they are made from the feathers of my dream-catcher
and I do not move because you do with such agility.
I will watch
and you will cut the infinite line with a slice of your dream-wings
up and up into the clock-cloud and the blue of man
and I
I will observe and learn backwards
and fall off the creaky old dock with unpracticed clumsiness;
sink and sink but I am flying negatively to the ocean floor
to the blue
to watch the image of you become smaller, ever smaller
to see the patterns of moving water I could never attain.

Jared

17

Final Moments

It’s the end of our last summer night
All of this is winding down
The breeze blows so lightly I can barely feel it
Is it just the calm before the storm?
We’re on the eve of earth-shaking change
Things won’t ever be the same
And I don’t want to think about it
All thoughts do is leave me unsettled
Now the sun is setting
Did it look like this before?
Take my hand and watch with me
Let’s find some solace in these final moments

Sarah

17

Inhaling for a three-count, my head
Swims and I am reeling from the
Teeming aromas that buzz through
Summer air

June smells like the first time
We turned on central air
Hot dogs, the rusted grill
(She preferred charred)
A hint of overnight camp

Traces of sticky marshmallow
Oh, and don't forget sunblock on a
Listless lifeguard's nose, suntan lotion
Caked on a teenaged girl's lackluster skin

July is firework ashes permeated
By saltwater waves and Saturday night's
Bald bonfire stench

On the longest days we breathe in each other,
Exchanging faint shampoos and soaps and attraction
All of it fades with carnival food, leftover

Sand between our toes

August reeks of stale chlorine as even
Heat starts to stink, like summer was
Left out of the fridge

Too long
Still we want to save it, spray watermelon-scented
Freshener to cover up sweat and nostalgia

Sighing for three exhausting seconds, my skin
Bristles and I am shivering from the
Buzzing balm that surrounds us on a
Summer night
And I know you smell it too:

Change
It's the only scent that lingers

Albert

16

Jazz Rain

As if bullets were striking the walls,
the torrents fall.

As if the windshield was covered with tarp,
the rain harps.

As if the road was a stream,
the water gleams.

As if the sky was at war,
the thunder roars.

But that's ok,
because above the clangor of this Carolina monsoon,
all I hear are those calm jazz tunes.

From Dallas to Durham,
the radio plays em'

As if the storm were applauding them all,
the torrents fall.

Priyanka

Quite Contrary

What we are born with we take,
and what we live for we rarely notice.
In this world of constant awakening,
we scrunch ourselves down in the kingdom of lost clouds,
counting our moments by the wraith silver
of the waning crescent moon.
Perched on the indefinite steadiness of the seasons’ change,
the hummingbird and the philosopher deny their thirst and wait.
We wish to live,
to sway with the flowers in mutual delight.
Our days, short-lived, shelter in the sultry summer sun.
We blossom to the steady beating of our hearts,
blooming in the shadows of the people we once were,
and what we’ve now become.

Mackenzie

16

Curiosities of Summer
They never told me the summer heat would squelch as if the sun were angered at my
light.
They said it would be bikes under the street lights and glass bottles left to struggle with fragility in the ferocity of the streets,
the streets that scrounge for feet in order to be felt
even if it is through being
tread upon.
They said I would be able to see the carnival lights from my bedroom window
but even on my roof
all I could see was what I thought of the ground
and decided then
never to return.
Even in the swimming pools the chlorine seemed to stick to my skin
and the hose was never more than a taste of purity.
My exposed skin was unsure of what to make of all the
air and contact and temptation to breathe
breathe with the intensity of devouring free days
days with choices and therefore
controversy.
Summer with its beauty in the space
but its pressure of not knowing what to do without
desks and dull pencils and looseleaf
only the loose leaves of autumn can motivate
the summer to be felt and inhaled
and thought of
as
an anomaly.
The contradictions within freedom,
the students have the summertime to practice them
and the school year to wonder
when freedom will no longer be just a
word
but rather something that squelches like light and
summer heat.

Parastoo

17

Humans bathe their salty toes in my glowing beads of sand......All day long I am massaged by these oval like paws......I enjoy their presence more than the silly crabs that tunnel through......Homo sapiens are quite clever too......I welcome them to come play but they leave their cans and wrappers......It's nice having company and being sculpted......But if you come to visit take all your belongings with you......Don't even leave a shoe

Sara

17

A supermoon was out last night
But it didn't seem so great
So I sat down on the dark summer street
And the glowing orb fit right between my forefingers

I had conquered the moon and scared away the freckles of the sky
They hid shyly behind the clouds which floated much too high

I felt little chills along my thighs which my dainty floral dress could not soothe
So I wore a boy's arms around my body for warmth
But I felt stronger just holding the moon

Jesse

15

Sand
A little breach, its dissolving
This castle is always falling.
Water washing it away
The waves have ben like this all day.
Heat leaving rashes of red
No clear out, salt stinging instead.
Separate fish eating alive
Ripping apart, falling inside.
Faster to get ashore
Gripping the blue ocean floor.
Choking on shells of the sand
Seeing that dark yellow band.
Wet hair plastering onto the face
Blood is the copper taste.
Floating through summer to thin ice
Leave the god behind
on the sea grave of time.

S Caroline

15

High Tide

The summer sun was shining at the dawning of the day—
I thought I’d walk this path again, and it led me down your way

You probably weren’t expecting me to show up at your door
But time again I’ve come here, when only meaning to explore.

I promise I’ll ask for nothing—but, to hold your hand
And take you as I walk along this fine grain summer sand.

I’ve always loved the setting of your home upon the shore
I’ve always loved to watch the waves, when I’ve been here before.

Follow me down past the docks, where boats can come and go,
Carried off by summer winds, and the current’s lazy flow

We’ll walk with aqua water slipping past our toes
We’ll watch as the tide slips in, then turns around and goes.

Hold me tighter if I stray too deeply past the coast
I wouldn’t want these summer seas to turn me to a ghost

The ocean’s very lovely, but dark and deep as well,
So pull me back to safety if the waves begin to swell,

For greater things than little me are swept away in this high tide—
But I can’t imagine harm will come, with you standing by my side.

Wanda

16

Dear Summer,
Thank you for revolutionizing my life.
You're quite a person my dear summer.
First you make us crave you
then you wait for our surrender to you
after a year of blood-sucking teachers
taking away our strength in exchange for knowledge
And then,
There you come
as mischievous as a snake.
We relax
And that's when you make your move...
When we are not looking
When we are finally healed by those wounds
And we want to change
That's when "HE" comes in the picture
Kissed by your sun
Washed by your water
Healed by your splendor
Life stops.
Big breath in, so you don't drive yourself crazy.
Thoughts overlapping
Everything else just a far away echo on the back of your mind
A look
A wave of heat
I'm lost.
Again.
A lifetime shared in a day
A sentence that completes itself
A look stronger than a thousand words
I'm safe.
I'm not alone.
Worries far away.
The impossible becomes possible.
The world doesn't feel so loud all of a sudden.
Following the waves of our destiny.
As we watch a flame burning the sunset.
Sitting at the shore.
Taste of salt.
Fingers holding each other
Finding their way through the wet sand
like their life depended on it.
Laughing with one voice
while lost in our youth
Feeling each others hearts.
"16 it's a good age"
They say
They are damn right.
I was happy we had met.
But it was time to ride my waves
Not to follow.
It was time for life to keep going
Not to stop
I hated him
(because I loved him)
I lost a chance
Regrets.
Everything replaced by a tsunami of pain.
How quickly time passes by...
But the desire for you
The mystery of you
Will forever be mine.
A simple love story...
That's what it was.
Dear Summer,
How can I hate you
If you show me real beauty?
If you show me what life is in this earth?
Thank you my dear friend...
I'll see you next summer
With love and admiration
Your grateful victim.

Wanda

16

What's Summer?

Hot, sun, friends
An infinite story
A wish to change
A crave for new
This is Summer

Boring, unforgettable, indescribable
A beautiful waste of time
A time for no regrets
A sweet surrender
This is summer

Jealousy, obsessions, distractions
A rain free of worries
A one way ticket
An adrenaline rush
This is summer

What's summer?
I am summer.
Fresh, young and stupid.
What's summer?
He is summer.
Beautiful, dangerous and perfect.
What is summer?
WE ARE summer.
Complicated, Crazy and Conquistadors of the timeless summer nights.

Isaiah

14

Leaf, reflecting the sun,
shining like a firefly's bum
blowing on your branch.

(August 11, 2014)

Maggie

15

This Summer Is
patterned skirts
blonde tourists in hollister
eye contact on the subway
low cut shirts and lowly whistles
reminding myself to draw more
read more,
photograph more,
call my dad more,
run more,
apologize for my dad for not calling more,
write more
eye contact on the subway
eat less
suck in
kissing on the floor of a roof
graying a white t shirt
staring at this cute girl and wondering
would she kiss me
orange pills and orange soda
crying in my shrinks office
eye contact on the subway
air conditioner rain on the sidewalk
stickers on notebooks
sweaty necks and sticky thighs.