Sonnet for trying (and failing) to escape the sonnetBy Claire Buck Why is it that I always come back hereto fourteen lines of interlocking rhymein steady rows of iambs. Like the fear(or is it love?) that draws me, every timeI visit home, back to my childhood churchthe sonnet pulls me in. Is for
Untitled, Fall 2021, Katie Shantz, Film test strips, photo oils, & thread
Pieces of Sky By Trent Thiele Eyes pointed toward the bleak heavens, the ground is dotted with white freckles falling. Fragile flakes landing on my frostbitten cheek; as I cup my hands together softly, catching a piece of sky. I gasp, with shivering hands and wavering breath. The sky cries out with
