Art submissions


A Fruitless Answer

by Mianyi Wang, UWCM


Stumbling,

We are intoxicated

Not in the cheapest bottle from Gall & Gall

Rather in an abstract notion we all pretend to know a little about.

Who wants to drink something without knowing its contents?

All of us,

We go all out.

Fumbling,

We become agitated

Not over our daily problems with IB

Our sober selves can complain about that.

Rather we become frustrated

Over why we are here

Drinking the juice in the first place.

Yet when asked if the juice is good

Five stars it is

We add a testimony to how it changed our lives

And there’s no doubt it did

But the chunks of apple and seeds of orange

Remain at the bottom of the cup

While the juice dries

The charm dies.


The Toilet and I (A Poem of Friendship)

by Karolis Margis, UWCM


Was it love at first sight

When two strangers first met?

Oh, please tell I’m right

Please don’t make me upset

It was toilet and I

Like the moon and the sun

I still wonder oh why

Why away did I run?

In the middle of night

With a sense of deep shame

I thought I was right

And the night is to blame

The toilet and I

Our love burned and bloomed

I want just to cry

For the fire left wound


I, me, myself, and some toilet (A response to “The toilet and I”)

by Manuel Mejia, UWCM


I need to run,

Where no one’s there,

Silence voice,

Nor say hello.

May some there,

None to care,

Time to spend,

Not complain. 

Natural space,

Doors and locks,

Water falls,

Tears or more.

Once I was,

Full of mind, 

Four walls and no one talks,

Space to breathe, space to cry.

Lonely hours, 

Sleeping,

To last,

Sink and not sea. 

When the doors have lock,

When the moat is close,

When the floor is cold,

When the night has fall. 

When all has fail,

And some must rest,

Sleepless nights, 

Dawn must wait.

Light,

Smoke,

Headphones 

And floor.

Chairs no more,

Candles decor,

Some can come,

But no one ask.

Silence voice,

Nor say hello.

Time to spend, 

Not complain.


A Haiku

by Zack Blakely, UWCM


Dear Airborne Ghostship,

A juice themed haiku for you:

                        What is in the juice?

          More existential malaise.

          No, not mayonnaise.

Yours in anchorage (no, not Alaska),

Zack


(Agoraphobic) Claustrophobia

by Anonymous, UWCM
Illustration by Daniela Lascurain


Tight spaces

scare me not

but this tiny,

fragile box

has held me hostage

– trapped –

for longer

than I am capable

of collectedly handling.

A waxing and waning infinity 

suffocating within the confines

of this cranium-bound

ecosystem

of thoughts.

Claustrophobic…

towards myself?

I guess so.

Not ideal.


What’s in the Juice?

by Manon Fischer, UWCM


I wonder how

Am I to induce

This text just now:

A poem about juice

When life gives you lemons, what to produce?

A cake, a pie, or rather a juice?

What tool is there to use

To not fundamentally abuse

The power, the potential of the hypotenuse?

That has nothing to do with juice, I admit

Though I suppose that someone of wit

Will develop a deeper understanding

And thereby provoke a consciousness-expanding

A juice consists of fruit

Leastwise it should!

If not, it’s not good

And requires a lawsuit!

The fruit is the variable that can be exchanged

Whether orange or apple,

Carrot or a cattle

Or even tomato, it can be arranged

So what is in the juice,

Let’s not ask a goose

Quickly, to avoid constipation

It’s open to interpretation!

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