My veins are fraying hung up on this line
like a well loved sweater,
the one you let me borrow
When I brought it from the bin
I thought I felt your palm
smooth my hair
with the sun warmed linen
I touched that sweater to my face
And realized your scent was gone
Once again I was left alone
barking at the wind
I’m starting to think
I fall in love with everyone I meet
That I am simply patchwork
Built from love and torn at the seams
Poem by senior Mar Lawley
The most powerful thing in the world is a story
Keeps us alive but is the only thing that exists of us after bodily decay
Any story is real because it lives in our observatory
There is a wasps nest on the top of my dormitory
One day we will respond only by notes like a blue jay
We may cease to exist when all your memory becomes depreciatory
One way to live forever is to achieve great glory
The winds keep shaking, please don’t meet me at the bay
Any story is real because it lives in our observatory
The act of living was acted by murder, everything is auditory
See the ballet, story, shapes, and hidden language yet all you hear is the song today
We may cease to exist when all your memory becomes depreciatory
Sacrifice time for peace or peace for time, no or only lines of territory
You lie sitting at a table, but at the center is a bouquet
Any story is real because it lives in our observatory
My life will one day become an allegory
Stories exist out of violence of the teller watch the play
We may cease to exist when all your memory becomes depreciatory
Any story is real because it lives in our observatory
Villanelle by sophomore AJ Howard
The once crisp ice is now soft morning dew
I look up and the dark sky is cloaked
The clouds swell, rain drops fall; the ground is soaked
I welcome the earthy smell that ensues
The droplets bring frogs, I can hear their croaks
rain pours, wind roars, shaking the oregon oaks
Such a storm has been long overdue
Thunderous clouds soften to a quiet drip
Rattling, broken branches begin to still
Gray skies fill with life as sunlight depends
Wind chimes fall solent as roaring wind dips
Mist lays low on the moss and daffodils
And I wish for the rain to never end.
Sonnet by senior Rowan Eckhart
