July/August 2020

It’s mysterious indeed. It will rise and fall, and people will depend on it. If you listen closely you can hear them whispering and the ocean singing. At the bottom of dreary the salty water makes my eyes burn. Deep in the nothings of the earth are where it lives. At the break of dawn, it rustles and rolls up and splashes the world. It has a question like everything else. Its hopelessness and so much question makes people question harder. But it remains unanswered. A mystery indeed. Analise Braddock, 9Katonah, New York

The imagination is always misplaced. But you got what key you got. Not changing a thing. Stick it up a pickle tree or in your knee. Maybe get it stung by a bee. It’s always getting lost. Brainstorm a bit but won’t get you that far. Can’t be chosen or recreated. It gets stuck in a hole when you’re down in deep thinking. Because Doctor Imagination says no today. Can I try to remake my imagination? I could. I would. I should. Oh but then again you get what you got. Analise Braddock, 9Katonah, New York

There sat the baby in her glory spot. She came every day to admire it. It lived in the woods with no owners of its own. The baby blinked and admired the moon. She remembered her name, Daisy, as in mama. Vines grew around the baby’s glory spot. It started to break down. Eventually it was nothing. Daisy will always remember the rocking chair in the woods. Analise Braddock, 9Katonah, New York