Issue 5.4 May 2017

02 03

F o u n d e d b y E v e r e s t A d l e r m a n

Am I Really an Aries? Ashley Kunnath Annoying Aries Puja MahendruAquarius Marius Dawn Park Capricorn Frappuccino Josh Casquejo Lecherous Leo Anthony Bottigliero Piece of Shit Pisces Kristen Vargas Shifty Sagittarius Emily BlissThat Fucking Sexy Lion Eric Rupinski The Evil Twin Fish Alyssa BauerThe Good Twin Fish Ben FosterThe Little Goody Two-Shoes Meiyu Zhu Two-Faced Gemini Megha PatelVirtuous Virgo Kristen Harvey

F r o n t C o v e r : K r i s t e n V a r g a s ; B a c k C o v e r : E v e r e s t A d l e r m a n

CONTENTS“ S h i f t y H o r o s c o p e s ”

CO

NT

RIB

UTO

RS

Dandelion; Impossible PlantBen Foster; Kristen Vargas

and Ben Foster

04

05Pulchritudinous Locutions; Four-Colour Pen

Shannon Ray

06

07Deja Vu; Latte ArtRachel Narozniak; Nikita Punit

089:43Dana Sheehan

09SummerEmily Bliss

10

11

12

13

14

Robert Wood Johnson Children’s Hopsital; The Drive

Max Albert; Kristen Vargas

15

16Bloom; GreeneryShannon Ray; Kristen

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

SignsKate Foley

Virgo the Virgin’s Week of Horoscopes

Kristen Harvey

Rose in the WindowBen Foster

GroundhogLeopold Tinley

GroundhogLeopold Tinley

Bird is the WordBen Foster

So We ThoughtTanya Banerjee

PiscesBen Foster

AquariusDawn Park

Andrea del SartoMax Albert

AquariusDawn Park

EndletterEmily Bliss

EndletterEmily Bliss

04 05Dandelion

Ben FosterThe Impossible Plant

Kristen Vargas and Ben Foster

PULCHRITUDINOUS LOCUTIONS

i told you i don’t know how to write poetry & you saidi’m not sure you can learn how to write poetry unless you study it.

that was when i knew i didn’t want to know how to write poetry.

keep your thesaurus

Shannon Ray

FOUR-COLOUR PEN

phantom limbs in your shirt over cadmium;elation wears arms i breathed in

scenes of summer feel like youin february’s soaps i used at home

i knowi am very in love with you

But I belong in the room, too

Shannon Ray

06 07

BLOOM

Strangers brush together and transparent curtains fall;spring sounds down around our eyelids

A cello recompiles worn seasons recomposed as the strings untie and intertwine us

There was something else, wasn’t there?Something about being alive everywhere, all at once

Shannon Ray

DEJA VU

we slept until 3:30 that Sundayand called ourselves lazyas our feet searchedfor pockets of coolnesshidden in the folds of the comforter.

i had forgotten what it felt liketo lay beside a humannot in a rush nor in a hurryto label life’s abstractionswith a deadline.

i had known the feeling once in a dream,and lost it to waking,where love had a time of death,hope, an expiration date.to stumble upon the same feelingby the same method, unexpectedly—i’ve heard that’s called serendipity.

Rachel Narozniak

GreeneryKristen Vargas

Latte ArtNikita Punit

08 09

9:43

By the time night came,One could tell the kids had become weary,

Sleepy as their voices soon vanished.The rides continued without them though,

With their flashing lights of every color And their music that seemed louder than ever.

The howls of teenagers soon replaced The tiny scream of kids on these goat rides

Like the Himalaya, where the operator Kept telling guests to scream for a faster ride.

We pushed out way through the crowds,Who were preparing to win one of those Chance by spinning or water gun games,

Or those who couldn't wait for more tickets.Walking along the boards that creaked with every step,

Past those who managed to beat the claw and win some silly prize, like a elephant or some candy,

He gave me his sweatshirt, somethingI didn't think we would need on this hot day.

As we stepped onto the beach where there was some relief,The sand that once burned like the blazes of hell,Where the only means of escape was diving face

First into the ocean until the waves knocked swimmers down.Now it seemed the waves rose high enough

To knock a ship over onto its side, as they crashed Onto the beach with a mighty roar.

Just now, some kids run into the sea, only To be chased away before the ocean took them in.

Past the kids, the boats came in, glowing Like fireflies in the middle of the night,

To see the small show tonight.

I could hear him sigh, he checked his phone,The light shining bright enough for an airplane to see.The time became nine fourth-three.Thirteen minutes late, we're ready to end our date,But as he got up to leave this day behind, They flew up into the sky.The fireworks popped and boomed, scattered Across the sky, in a plentiful of shapes and colors, For everyone nearby and far to see.They cracked across the sky, they were shooting stars, risingLike a rocket ship, then floating back down like a feather.Over and over again, the fireworks flew, Until the night came to an end, and Only the stars remained in the sky.

Dana Sheehan

SummerEmily Bliss

10 11

ROBERT WOOD JOHNSON CHILDREN’S HOSPITAL

children aren’t supposed to lose their hairwell before their first haircut,but here they do..a cement wall separates this placefrom your place.so your son still smilesand you still wash grass stains out of his jeans..fixed to the cement is a sign:no smokingas if to warn parents that God is a cruel caretakerand cancer runs in the family..7 in the morning, every morning,dainty mothers dressed in XL flanneldraw inwith great intensitythe smoke of stale cigarettes..they even smoke the filters,because the machines inside are too loudand because every motherwants her sonto attend her funeral.

Max Albert

SIGNS

When I asked him what a Scorpio does best, he took me into his bedroom. He played chutes and ladders with my body and I swore I would live in a board game if that meanwe’d win all the time.

I lost him for the first time before our first kiss and, let me explain, when a Virgo and a Scorpio kiss for the first time, he’ll feels like paradise.While his beard blistered my face, it became clear he was an itch I couldn’t scratch.

Before the first kiss, we were strangers circumnavigating romance. Our affair was scattered through drunken text messages and candy bars. Between each bite, I knew the salt was getting closer. I would never bum his cigarettes but he would always offer.

When I asked him what a Scorpio does worst, he showed me his wine cooler. He lived above a bar, which was probably a metaphor. The Scorpio said alcoholismwas the closest you could get to death without dying, which is why we both liked it so much.

The Scorpio never took me on a date, but only because I never let him. You could blame it on astrology but, honestly, it was the age difference. The Scorpio liked to ignore time but I have calendars taped behind my eyelids.

When I asked him what a Scorpio wants most, he called me his good girl which was everything wrong because when the Virgo loves the Scorpio, it is nothing but bad. But when the Scorpio calls the Virgo a mean name for what has to be the seventy-second time,

I block his number. I delete his name from my phone. I am not a roll of the dice or a plastic thimble playing piece. And when he asked me what a Virgo does best, I pointed to my footprints in the snow, spelling out you lost me for the last time in braille.

Kate FoleyThe Drive

Kristen Vargas

12 13

VIRGO THE VIRGIN’S WEEK OF HOROSCOPES*

Virgo: “the Virgin”, the shy lady in waiting,who is both analytical and skeptical,

helpful and inflexible, cold but reliable.All of these characteristics that

label me based on the system of the stars and planets,revolving around one another,

and moving into each other’s orbits.The descriptions seem spot on, narrowing in on

my most intimate desires and nitpicking my most inherent flaws,that when the horoscope for the day or the week comes out,

I try to fit it into my life. Oh yes,I will get that promotion, oh no,

I have to not let that jealous friend get the bestof me, oh my, today might be the day that I

finally meet the love of my life.But in the end, does it all ring true?

Or are we so desperate to have the unansweredquestion of our future spelled out for us that we are

willing to believe anything, andforce our horoscopes into fruition?

On Monday I am told:“A new contended chapter of your love life is emerging,the end game is a Disney happily ever after”.But it’s Friday and I am still alone.No romance budding or blooming, no chapter beginning.I’m a princess trapped in a dungeon,guarded fiercely by her own single status.Then it continues to say:“A past affair may haunt you again and this hasbeen repeating at regular intervals.Do not make yourself vulnerable to bitter experiences of the past.”Now this is true and suddenly, though the first partwas false, I find myself being dragged back intothe bottomless pit of belief in the fact that thisapp, that can somehow interpret astrology,knows my past, present, and future, better than I do.He has been haunting me, plaguing me with the past,trying to draw me back under, and I know that I must notlet myself be vulnerable to his charms and manipulations. I know that it is the worst thing for me. I know that I must notbecome a victim of the past. Nostalgia is a wicked emotionthat can sometimes coax you into taking ten steps back.

Kristen Harvey

* To read the rest of the poem, visit our website at imaginatemagazine.com

Rose in the WindowBen Foster

14 15GroundhogLeopold Tinley

GROUNDHOG

Groundhog saw hisShadow,Guess I'm not Getting laid forAnother. 6. Weeks.

Leopold Tinley

16 17

ANDREA DEL SARTO

he is of excessso he consumes the mahogany (there is a missing bit from the legbecause his Mom, in 1940, swung this stoollike Joe DiMaggio; it was her only weapon)with the fullness of a man whodraws caricatures of men and women and children..they desire for a man of excessto observe their features which are,most days, hidden:.his scar, while faint,is drawn as red as can be:raised flesh as punishmentfor drinking the fullest glass of wineand then driving the smallest, most fuel-efficient car.he has a scar on his forehead.they died, though.

.her nose, while just a feature,is drawn so largeshe can smell the whole world:her mother has this nose as well as her mother’s mother,#139755: as a young child in Poland, she was able to smellthe singe of skin in billowing flesh-clouds..her hair, blonde,is drawn a Van Gogh yellow:she doesn’t have hair anymore.each morning using thick adhesiveshe attaches her hair to her head,because for 3 years she had fire in her veins —she’s alive now..he is a man of excess,so he draws in great exaggeration

Max Albert Bird is the WordBen Foster

18 19

LightnightEverest Adlerman

SO WE THOUGHT

We trustwithered handsclasping an orb

We believemystical mantras

dictating our future

We understandwretched fortuneawaiting our lives

We chooseheartfelt words

breaking our love

We knowdark superstitions

kill fiction

We thoughtwise minds

brought truth:

Wewere

Wrong.

Tanya BanerjeePisces

Ben Foster

20 21

AQUARIUS

I stand above the pond, a small refuge of my own. The blue water shines underneath as the clear crystals surrounding it illuminate the dark cave.I crouch down slowly with an old clay jug in my handand slowly drop it into the cold water. As I feel the jug getting heavier in my grasp, watching small bubbles reaching to the surfaceI wonder to myself, “Is it true what they say about me?” “Am I really that afraid of other people?”“If I show them my true colors, too harsh and heavy for them to accept, would they still see me for me?”“Will they not just walk away when they seehow broken I really am?” I’ve made a lot of people smile for what I’ve done, but I can’t tell if they truly mean it. I fear that every good thing they say about meis secretly filled with envious hate. My bare hand begins to shake in the cold water, which felt like a soft breeze in the form of liquid. It isn’t freezing, but beneath the translucent surface, it never let go of the jug’s circular handle. They say most people who come to this pond are like that: Cold and secretive, always hiding from the darkest of emotions. Always pushing people awayAlways relying on themselves Always meant to be alone.

“No,” I think and shake my head, “It can’t be.” Surely, there is someone out there who loves me no matter what I do. I know I’m not afraid to do what’s truly right for me.I know there are those whom I can trustand share my darkest secrets. The jug is full. I pull it up. It is now wet and heavy. I will now have to carry this burden all the way home. But I know that it’ll eventually fade away from my grasp. I know that I will not suffer alone.

Dawn Park

22 23

You will find your soul mate on the RexL. The RexL never shows up, though, so good luck with that

ARIES

You will fail your next midterm, unless you put this magazine down and study. (We both know that it’s not happening.)

TAURUS

Do as Shakespeare would do, and spend this month making really sexual puns about people

AQUARIUS

Beware the ides of March. Yes, it’s May, but it’s good to plan ahead.

PISCES

Like diamonds, your academic success will be molded by intense pressure

GEMINI

Surprise! There’s a pop quiz about communism in your next class. The universe doesn’t care you’re a bio major.

CANCER

Bees?

LEO

This month is your chance to ensure William the Silent doesn’t need to break his silence when you walk across Voorhees Mall.

VIRGO

The universe is kinda mad at you right now, sorry I don’t make the rules.

LIBRA

“Tequila is always a terrible decision” – Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865)

SCORPIO

Avoid Brower. Actually, do that all the time, not just this month.

SAGITTARIUS

Capricorn sounds like popcorn. Write a poem about popcorn, then send it to us.

CAPRICORN

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