Prisms 2013

PRISM

S St. Joseph N

otre Dam

e High School

2013

PRISMS

St. Joseph Notre D

ame H

igh School 2013

PRISMSA LITERARY-ART MAGAZINE Spring 2013 Volume 23

St. Joseph Notre Dame High School1011 Chestnut Street Alameda, California

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PRISMS STAFFEditor-in-Chief: Jenna VaccaLiterary Editor: Amelia KhooArt Editor: Danielle PomeroyLayout Editor: Desiree Harris

Foreign Language Editor: Isabella Reid

STAFF MEMBERSKimberly Avalos

Jacqueline BellosoDaniela Chaparro

Nigel DunivenCiara Lane

Natalia LaysonSerena MilroyMaddy Shiber

Jackson Sundheim

COVER DESIGNRose Lassalle-Klein

INSIDE COVER DESIGNDanielle Pomeroy

ADVISERElizabeth Peláez Norris

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTSPaula Cekola

Concha Castellanos DeitrickJennifer Dlugosh

Jean KuznikAndrew McKee

Mark Ritter

PRISMSisaliterary-artmagazinepublishedbystudentsofSt.JosephNotreDameHighSchoolinAlameda,California.Submissionsareacceptedthroughouttheyear.As“arainbowrefrac-tionoflight,”PRISMSreflectsthediversityoftheSJNDstudentbodythroughdifferentmedia,genres,andlanguages.FundedbySt.JosephNotreDameHighSchool,PRISMSissharedandenjoyedbyourschoolcommunity.EachSJNDfamilyreceivesafreecopy. PrintedbyUrbanArtLithography,2331CSt., Sacramento,CA.Adobe InDesignCS3.Fonts:RitzyRemix.16pt.18pt.60pt.andTimesNewRoman.9pt.10pt.11pt.12pt.BrotherLaserPrinterHL-5140.Cover&Text:TitanGloss80#.Ink:BlackandFourColorProcess.PerfectBind.700copies.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

ODE TO THE BOOK…………………………………….…...…............8 Carlos RodriguezCONTEMPLATION……........................................……………...............9 Joshen RuelosSELF-PORTRAIT…………..............………………………..........……..9 Alexandra AubryFLOATING SHAPES...…………....................……………..........…….10 Justin PassionMONSTER FACE…………......………………………..…..........…….10 Kristine Nguyen “BE YOUSELF”……….........……………………..……..........……….11 Desiree HarrisMI CAMINO…………………………….........……………..........…….12 Guadalupe Carolina GonzálezTALKING WITH MYSELF………………………......................……..13 Janet GonzalezSÓLO UN NIÑO………………………………………..........………...14 Kimberly GonzálezDARK NIGHT…………........................……………………..........…...15 Justin PassionDARKNESS…………….....................………………….........………..16 Grace FalknerTHE END…………………………....…………………….........……...18 Janet GonzalezREMEMBRANCE………………….......…………………….........…..18 Christopher OberemptLA PISTOLA…………........……………………………..........……….19 Daniela ChaparroEL PELIGRO………………............................………………..........….20 Gabriela HinojosaDEBAJO DEL LUSTRE……………………….........………..........…...21 Alessandra ZambranoCESURA………………………………..........…………………………22 Alessandra ZambranoBUSCANDO LA PRESA………..........…………….….......…………..23 Gabriela HinojosaOLAUDAH EQUIANO’S MIDDLE PASSAGE………..........…....…..24 AP U.S. HistoryOVERLAPPING OVERLORDS………..........………................……...25 Oscar San Miguel

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MI QUETZAL…………….........…………….....................…………...26 Axel GarciaOBITUARY……..........…………………………….................………...28 Amanda MattoonTIME RUNNER………….........………………….....…………………28 Nigel DunivenAVENGED SEVENFOLD CONCERT……...............………………....29 Jonathan SchuitemaMY FAVORITE NOTES…………..........………..……………………..29 Alex Holtzman, Jackson WitherspoonYOU AND I…………………........................................……………….30 Amelia KhooLA RESPUESTA……………………………......….................………..31 Karina MyersSHADOW PUPPETS…....………….........…………………………….32 Robin LevyVALENTINES DAY…………..........…………………………..............34 Natalia LaysonMAÑANA……....................................................................................…36 Robin LevyABSURDITY...........................................................................................38 Alessandra ZambranoNIGHTMARE FUEL..............................................................................39 Michelle SeiwaldCASPER…...............................................................................................39 Danielle PomeroyWOMAN AND SEA...............................................................................40 Kristine NguyenBANANA BOAT….................................................................................40 Taylor GriffithRISING TIDE……..................................................................................41 Amelia KhooDELPHINA………................................................................…..........…42 Jackson SundheimLA PLUMA.............................................................................................43 Daniela ChaparroPARAÍSO….........................................................................................…44 Thong DinhBONSAI…….......................................................................................…45 Rose Lassalle-KleinREACH FOR THE SKY..........................................................................45 Alexa Martinez

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MASS TRANSPORTA TION…..............................................................46 Danielle PomeroySTREET LIGHTS....................................................................................46 Taylor GriffithTHE NIGHTOSPHERE…………........................……………………...47 Amanda MattoonMIGHT I WISH?................................................................................... 48 Jenna VaccaPEACOCK…….......................................................................................49 Kristine NguyenDRUNKEN HUMMINGBIRD................................................................49 Julia CourvilleLA MANTEQUILLA..............................................................................50 Eric BaskettI THOUGHT YOU CARED....................................................................53 Desiree HarrisLA PIÑATA..............................................................................................54 Daniela ChaparroMY HOUSE.........................................................................................…55 Desiree HarrisFORGOTTEN..........................................................................................55 Karina MyersTHESE STAIRS…...................................................................................56 Jenna VaccaBRICK BY BRICK…..............................................................................58 Danielle PomeroyADIÓS…..................................................................................................58 Lydia HallMEMORIES…….....................................................................................59 Ryann MalicdemTHE WAVES OF NEW JERSEY.............................................................59 William KeaneMI ANCLA….........................................................................................60 Ryann MalicdemBLISS IN EVERY SIP.............................................................................60 Maribelle MartinezNEVER ONE WITHOUT THE OTHER….............................................61 Alessandra ZambranoSTILL LIFE.............................................................................................61 Jackson SundheimCINQUE TERRE.....................................................................................62 Daniela Chaparro

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CAMOUFLAGE..................................................................................…62 Dalton GreenRUSIA..................................................................................................…63 Brian PérezROSIE AND LICORICE..........................................................................63 Kohl GruntPEZ SOLO EN ACUARIO......................................................................64 Kimberly GonzálezEL CARACOL.........................................................................................66 Isabela ReidMARIPOSA.............................................................................................66 Bianca de la CruzTHE LITTLE BIRD……………………...........……………………….68 Emilio SanchezWATER’S TOUCH……………………………..…………...………….69 Taylor GriffithLOOKING FOR ULYSSES…................................................………….70 Isabela ReidEL PAÍS DE LA ETERNA PRIMAVERA...............................................72 Axel GarciaMETAL....................................................................................................74 Robin LevyREPAIR....................................................................................................75 Rose Lassalle-KleinSTAMPS...................................................................................................75 Mariana GaribaySUNSET IN ALAMEDA........................................................................76 Amy WangWISH……………………………………………………...……………76 Andrew LeongAUTUMN AURA....................................................................................77 Jonathan SchuitemaWINTER’S TOUCH................................................................................77 Rachel FalknerSOLITARY…………......................…………………………………….78 Jackson SundheimFIREFLY..................................................................................................78 Robin Levy

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Sturdy.Patient.

Teeming with life.This is the Great Tree

Hush…Can you hear the wind’s ever changing call?

Feel the hearty pulse emanating from its rootsInto every emerald leaf?

The air, fresh, as if after the first rainfall

Here is where inspiration growsHigh above

In branches stretched longingly toward the starsAdorned with dazzling dew drops

Light streaming through the canopyCreating dappled patterns that sway to the tune of the forest

Stay a while and rest in the shade. Let the solace of the Great Tree soothe you. What is the breeze telling you? Allow

PRISMS to be your guide.

Jenna VaccaEditor-in-Chief

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ODE TO THE BOOK

The bookThe book I pick up in the libraryThe majestic imaginary lifeThe life in which I can be someone I am notThe words I read carefullyCome to me like a reality show.They engulf my room as if it were filled with waterThe words describing my life as a teenager, As if this book were meant for meThe pages which I touch passionately,Rough, textured, sharp-edged,Are the obstacles I wish to surpassThe slow turning of each delicate page,Are the stages of my life.The book,My book,My book that I am writing,My book I never knew was in progress,My favorite book,My Life.

Carlos Rodriguez ‘14

8 PRISMS 2013

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CONTEMPLATION Joshen Ruelos ‘15Tempera & Watercolor

SELF-PORTRAITAlexandra Aubry ‘16Painting

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FLOATING SOLIDSJustin Passion ‘16Pastel & Watercolor

MONSTER FACEKristine Nguyen ‘14Acrylic

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PRISMS 2013 11

“BE YOURSELF”

With a can of spray paint in her hand And a smile on her faceShe starts to work on her masterpiece

“Be Yourself”She thinks as her hand moves along the wallCreating shapes and letters in the moonlight

She paints the EarthWith calm blue watersAnd green lands that come together to form a big heartBehind her main message:

“Be Yourself”Say the block letters Of all sizes and shapesCrowded together, not complaining

“Be Yourself”Sing the many colors that complement one anotherLike good friends

She steals awayWith a can of spray paint in her hand And a smile on her faceThinking of those few moments

When she could be herself

Desiree Harris ‘13

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12 PRISMS 2013

MI CAMINO

Cuando camino sobre la calle húmeda Después de una lluvia intensaY la noche se vuelve mustia como si no hubiera ocurrido nadaSilenciosa y tranquila solo se escucha la brisa pasarGrandes luceros iluminan mi senderoLa luna se refleja en el pavimentoEn sus charcos las bellas estrellas centellean con alegríaY a lo lejos veo una silueta que me expresa vidaY me recibe con sus brazos abiertosY me dice, “Bienvenida, todavía te espero.”

Guadalupe Carolina González ‘13

MY PATH

When I walk on the damp street After a heavy rainAnd the night becomes limp as if nothing has happenedQuiet and peaceful as the breeze passes byBig bright stars illuminate my pathMoon reflects on the pavementIn its pools joyful stars twinkle And in the distance I see a silhouette that brings me lifeThat receives me with open armsAnd says to me, “Welcome, I’m still waiting for you.”

Guadalupe Carolina González ‘13

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PRISMS 2013 13

TALKING WITH MYSELF

Overflowing with sadness,Taking in all the remarks,

Made fun of for being different,Just because I’m the girl with scars.

Maybe we wouldn’t be different,If you would only stop.

I understand you have anger,But these aren’t the right thoughts.

When did you become like this?Was I too blind to see?

Since you control everything I do,That could be a possibility.

You control my choice of words,What I taste, smell, and feel.You’ve grown sick, I’m told,

I just want you to heal.

Look at what you’ve done,Look at what you did,

Now these scars will stay on meAnd join the ones I’ve hid.

You’ve made my hands the enemy,But they’re doing what you want.You’ve made my arms the victim

Of your vicious taunts.

After years you’ve seemed to stop,And I’m just wondering why.

Was it because the thoughts got old?Or because you heard my heart cry?

It seems you’ve been overpoweredBecause you thought my heart was small,But it made you see the wrong you did;

I guess love does conquer all.

Janet Gonzalez ‘15

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14 PRISMS 2013

SÓLO UN NIÑO

Soy un niñoMaltratado por la ignorancia y el placer.

No tengo juguetes sino cicatrices,Marcas largas y rojas que se extienden por toda mi espalda

Como ríos de sangre.

Soy niño pero me siento como perro.No me bañan y apenas como unas migajas de pan duro.

Duermo en el suelo y siempre tengo frío.Vivo en el sótano,

Mi única compañíaLa soledad y la tristeza.

No tengo poder.Me siento abandonado.

Ya no quiero vivir en este mundo diabólico. A veces quiero gritarles a todos y recordarles que

Soy sólo un niño.

Kimberly González ‘14

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ONLY A CHILD

I am a childMistreated by ignorance and pleasure.

I don’t have toys but rather scars,Long, red marks that run across my back

Like rivers of blood.

I am a child but I’m treated like a dog.They don’t bathe me and I barely eat crumbs.

I sleep on the floor and I’m always cold.I live in the basement,

My only companyLoneliness and sadness.

I have no power.I feel abandoned.

I don’t want to live in this diabolic world anymore.Sometimes I want to yell and remind everyone that

I am only a child.

Kimberly Gonzalez ‘14

DARK NIGHTJustin Passion ‘16Pen and Ink

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16 PRISMS 2013

DARKNESS

Darkness as the sun dies in the skyAs we make our way to the waterNot sure what to expect of it yet possibilities flood our minds

Darkness surrounds meAs the oar cuts into the waterBut how can it stand against this growing darkness?

Darkness closes in as the sun falls from the skyBurning the edge of the world orange as it goes,The last of my hope goes with it.

Oh, what can you do when all you can see is black?Oily and tarlike, yet smooth as silk as you push through itCan’t escape it yet you never stop trying.

Darkness spreads everywhere, every corner, crack and crevice.Just waiting for the light to go out as it always must‘Thunk’ as you free your blade as you fly through the dark.

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PRISMS 2013 17

The lights cut through the midnight surface giving a glass-like illusion,Smell of burning invades my senses as the buzz of a launch zooms by,Rippling the darkness and slowly shaking the boat up and down, up and down.

“Power up,” she yells, urging us through the twisting current even as we go blind,Under the bridge, warm exhaust from metal machines hits me,I know how treasured this will be in the coming months as the wild winter chill plows in.

Darkness surrounds me as I feel the gunnels of the boat The cold metal bites into my thigh leaving a stinging reminderEven if you can’t see it, it’s still there.

You can’t escape it, you can’t outrun itYou fear it and try to expel it, even as you need itAll you can do is run ‘til it catches you and wraps you up in its inky embrace.

Grace Falkner ‘16

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THE END

From the look of things, the quiet cries of desperation are interminable.Though the silence of my failure is obscure, my mind shrieks with pain since I am at fault for all my mistakes. My heart opposes the cruelty done by those who have hurt me. I feel angry Life forcing me down on my hands and knees, choking me with a noose as I gasp for air. I glance at the ones I love one more time before my eyes fill with tears. I feel like I’m eternally suffocating. As I awake and regain consciousness, I am relieved that Life has had mercy on me and let me live for one more day. Filled with all my memories and thoughts, I walk across a famil-iar bridge. I feel Life’s presence behind me. I’m blindfolded. I’m stripped and tied to an icy pole. I feel shamed. My tears moisten the cloth covering my eyes. As it falls down my face, I gain sight of the great sea. I realize I have been tied onto the bridge I was walking on. I slip from my ropes and lean forward until the knot unravels itself. I begin to fall against my will. I await the inevi-table crash between me and the roaring ocean. I hear Life laugh-ing at me. Fright and sorrow wash over my face. I realize Life only let me live to get my hopes up and then brutally destroy the joy I have been given. Now I dwell on the ocean floor, unclothed, dead, with the last memory of Life, laughing in my pathetic face.

Janet Gonzalez ‘15

REMEMBRANCEChristopher Oberempt ‘14Scratchboard

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LA PISTOLA

Nubes de polvo giraban en las callesCuando la encontró,

Una pistolaComo un juguete negro y misterioso

Brillando entre pedacitos inconocibles de su pueblo.Extendiendo sus manitos morenas,

Lo agarró cerca de su pecho.Sintió las ranuras profundas

Y un volumen demasiado grande para sostener.

Las imágenes parpadeaban en sus ojos.El sol brillaba

En la frente de su mamá y hermanos.

Con un nuevo sentido de poder,Corrió hacia el polvo.

Daniela Chaparro ‘14

THE GUN

Clouds of dust spun in the streetsWhen he found it,

A gunLike a black, mysterious toy

Gleaming amongst unrecognizable pieces of his town.Extending his small, brown hands,He clutched it close to his chest.

He felt the deep groovesAnd the bulkiness too large for his grasp.

The images flashed behind his eyes,His mother, his sister, the way the sun shone in front of his doorway.

With a new sense of power,He ran toward the dust.


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EL PELIGRO

La linda nocheluna llenailuminosallenando

la oscuridadcon rayos

de luzLa noche

se convertiráen una pesadilla

llena de criminalesque cargan pistolasbuscando víctimas

inocentesque se caenen la trampade la muertecubriendo

las calles de Oaklandcon globos, velas

y recuerdosde fallecidos.

Gabriela Hinojosa ‘13

DANGER

The lovely nightfull moon

illuminatingfilling

the darknesswith raysof light

The nightwill turn

into a nightmarefull of criminalswho carry guns

looking for innocentvictimswho fall

in the trapof deathcovering

the streets of Oaklandwith balloons, candles

and memoriesof the dead.


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PRISMS 2013 21

DEBAJO DEL LUSTRE

Metal,Brillante y lustroso

Metal,Corazón de la guerraPintura en el arte de la guerraHerrero de la violencia

Armas, balas, armas de fuegoTodas de metalRaíces del sufrimientoCausa del dolor

Metal,Una vez brillante y lustrosoAhora,Empañado y opaco

Alessandra Zambrano ‘13

UNDERNEATH THE LUSTER

Metal,Shiny and lustrous

Metal,Heart of the warPaint in the art of warBlacksmith of violence

Weapons, bullets, gunsAll are metalRoots of sufferingCause of pain

Metal,Once shiny and lustrousNow,Tarnished and dull


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PRISMS 2013 21

DEBAJO DEL LUSTRE

Metal,Brillante y lustroso

Metal,Corazón de la guerraPintura en el arte de la guerraHerrero de la violencia

Armas, balas, armas de fuegoTodas de metalRaíces del sufrimientoCausa del dolor

Metal,Una vez brillante y lustrosoAhora,Empañado y opaco


UNDERNEATH THE LUSTER

Metal,Shiny and lustrous

Metal,Heart of the warPaint in the art of warBlacksmith of violence

Weapons, bullets, gunsAll are metalRoots of sufferingCause of pain

Metal,Once shiny and lustrousNow,Tarnished and dull


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22 PRISMS 2013

CESURA

El silencio es algo que tiene mucho poder. Aquí en la jungla el silencio es raro. La jungla está viva con ruido. Los árboles bailan con el viento, susurrando la canción del cielo. Ramas se estrem-ecen como maracas. Todos los elementos de la jungla están vivos con música y ruido. Las aves montan el viento y cantan la canción del cielo con los árboles. Ojos cerrados, él se sienta, respirando la música de la jungla y exhalando una parte de su alma, juntando con la canción del cielo. Perdido en la música, no le hace caso al silen-cio. Abre sus ojos y ve dos ojos amarillos mirándolo.

El silencio es algo que tiene mucho poder. En la jungla el silencio es raro. En la jungla, el silencio es el compañero del peligro.


CAESURA

Silence: it is something that has a lot of power. Here in the jungle, silence is a rarity. The jungle is alive with noise. The trees sway with the wind, whispering the sky’s song. Leaves shake like maracas. All the elements of the jungle are alive with music and noise. The birds ride the wind and sing the sky’s song with the trees. Eyes closed, he sits, breathing in the jungle’s music and exhaling a part of his soul, joining with the sky’s song. Lost in the music, he fails to heed the silence. He opens his eyes and sees two yellow eyes staring back at him.

Silence: it is something that has a lot of power. Here in the jungle silence is a rarity. In the jungle, silence is the companion of danger.


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PRISMS 2013 23

BUSCANDO LA PRESA

Te levantas ligeramenteComo una pluma

Corres hacia tu enemigoCon fuerza

Nunca vista jamásTe estás preparando

Para atacarTienes miedo

Pero no tedesanimas

Tus pupilas se abrenDas un rugido furioso

Y en ese momentoSabes que

Tienes corazón de León


IN SEARCH OF PREY

You rise lightlyLike a feather

Running towards your enemyWith strength

Never seen beforeYou are waiting

To attackThere’s fear

But you don’tFeel discouraged

Your pupils open widelyYou roar furiously

At that momentYou know that

You have the Heart of a Lion


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24 PRISMS 2013

OLAUDAH EQUIANO’S MIDDLE PASSAGEAs told by the AP US History Class

The moment I set foot on shipI am roughed up from toes to lip

It brings about a deep set fearOh, how I wish I was not here

Everyone around me is in chainsExperiencing both sorrow and pain

The man who sold me for money fakes a smileAnd promises that the trip will be worthwhile

My home is gone, my life is lost; I’m living in despairThey treat us just like meat all day, without a care

Being on this ship so long, I have a lot to fearLife so rough for all of us, death is less severe

I’m relieved to see someone from my own landIn this little box neither comfortable nor grand

I question these white men, “What you planning to do?”“We’ll make you our slaves. Now go away, shoo!”

I have so many questions about these men:Where have they come from? Where have they been?

How do these boats go, by wind or by spells?We cannot escape. Only time will tell.

Shoved onto the deck, we’re treated unfairCrammed altogether, with no air to spare

As we sit here with each other, in the stench of pooOthers are dying and catching the flu.

I recall the day when, floating on the sea,Those who yearned for death sought escape from slavery

Then jumped ship to put an end to their despairReverberating echoes of confusion in the air,

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PRISMS 2013 25

More and more hardships I have to undergoThis awful trade has pushed my people to a new low.

Suffocating from the lack of fresh clean airThe stench of dead bodies is too hard to bear.

Finally arriving, we pull up to the dockBound and tethered, we are moved in a flock.

They show no mercy as they invade our private spaceAnd roughly shove us onward to an unknown place.

The very first signal – the beat of a drum,And, ready to buy us, the slave owners come.

A mother, a sister, a brother, a friendA family’s bonding has come to an end.

OVERLAPPING OVERLORDSOscar San Miguel ‘14Pen & Ink

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26 PRISMS 2013

MI QUETZAL

La tierra dura bajo mis piesVeo a mi enimigo, el blanco

Pedro de Alvarado, conquistadorCon su lanza resplandeciendo

y su armamento reflejando su odio.Monta su caballo, me apunta la lanza

Y corre hacia mí

Miro a mi compañero, mi quetzal.Veo su pecho verde y miro al mío

Unidos podremos ganar Y corre hacia mí

Ya esta cerca, pero mi quetzal remonta vuelo¿Qué haría sin mi quetzal?

Pero mi quetzal le quita los ojos al caballo Y cae Alvarado

Cuando cae AlvaradoMe tira la lanza

La esquivo y le pego con mi manoPero no me doy cuenta de que la lanza

Me ha tocado el pecho

Me caigo al suelo y sólo veo oscuridadMe trato de levantar pero no puedo

En la oscuridad veo mi pecho ensangrientadoY a mi queztal lentamente bajando hacia mí

Dando un trillar de dolor y enojo

Cae en mi pecho y trata de levantarme Pero sólo mancha sus plumas con mi sangreMi quetztal con el pecho rojo como el mío

Sonrío y me doy a la oscuridad.

Axel Garcia ‘13

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PRISMS 2013 27

MY QUETZAL

The hard ground beneath my feetI see my enemy, the white man

Pedro de Alvarado, conquistadorWith his shiny lance and armor

Reflecting his hate.He mounts his horse, points the lance towards me,

And comes to me

I look at my companion, my quetzalI see his green chest and I look at mine

United we can winAnd he comes to me

He’s getting closer, but my quetzal takes flightWhat shall I do without him?

But my quetzal pecks out the eyes of the horseAnd Alvarado falls

From the ground He throws his lance at me

I dodge and hit him with my fistBut I don’t realize that his lanceHas struck me across the chest

I fall to the ground and all I see is darknessI try to rise but I fall again

Through the darkness I see my bloodied chestAnd my quetzal slowly descending towards me

Crying out in agony and anger

He lands on my chest and tries to lift meBut he only stains his feathers with my blood

His chest is red like mineI smile and give myself to the darkness.

Axel Garcia ‘13

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TIME RUNNER

I hear your sound, while I wait for you to explode,Like the gun at the beginning of a race.You are a runner. I can never catch you.

And the race begins.I hear your footsteps,

While I runbehind you.

I feel overwhelmed.I can never catch you!

I don’t have enough time.Then you run away from my vision

And if I lose you, I will never find you again.

Nigel Duniven ‘13

OBITUARYAmanda Mattoon ‘14

Pen & Ink

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PRISMS 2013 29

AVENGED SEVENFOLD CONCERT

Thunderous sounds greet meGuitars scream a harmony

People dance in a dark waveDrums lead the black sea

I lose myselfIn the melodic storm

I find myselfIn a Nirvana of metal music

Jonathan Schuitema ‘14

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MY FAVORITE NOTESAlex Holtzman '14 and Jackson Witherspoon '15

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30 PRISMS 2013

YOU AND I

you and i, we’re notes scribbled on a page.the “ands” in common time(one and two and three and four and-)you and i,we waltz across dissonant chords and watch themdissolve into resolution like ice cubes in hot water, leaping from aria to aria, navigating the cold, rocky waters of five four time andmodulation in the middle of a piece.you and i,we’re the curves of bass clefs and the way the treble clef wraps itself around the staff eighth notes held together by a common beam - together or not at allyou andi

Amelia Khoo ‘14

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THE RESPONSE

The happiness of the park dances around me. I am surrounded by a sea of red and blue. The fragrance of food fills my nose. The spices waltz with the meat in perfect harmony. There is a warmth in the air, not a cloud in the sky. Out of the crowd comes a boy. His blue eyes shine in the sun-light. His hair is golden like the sun. His smile fills his face. Me? He wants to talk to me? His lips move. He waits for a response that I cannot answer. His face freezes in an uncomfortable stare. His hair seems like a shadow. The light in his eyes fades to gray. And he disappears into the crowd again.

Karina Myers ‘13

LA RESPUESTA

La felicidad del parque baila alrededor de mí. Estoy rodeada por un mar de rojo y azul. La fragancia de comida llena mi nariz. Las especias bailan el vals con la carne en perfecta armonía. Hay un calor en el aire, ninguna sola nube en el cielo. De la multitud viene un niño. Sus ojos azules brillan en la luz del sol. Su cabello es dorado como el sol. Su sonrisa llena su cara. ¿Conmigo? ¿Quiere hablar conmigo? Sus labios se mueven. Él espera una respuesta que no puedo ofrecer. Su cara se congela en una mirada fija incómoda. Su cabello parece sombra. La luz en sus ojos se desvanece a gris. Y desaparece de nuevo en la multitud.

Karina Myers ‘13

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SHADOW PUPPETS

echoes rebound off rock walls,multiplying our soft voices to a rising clamor,as if, instead of just us two,there are hundreds of peoplesitting in the centerof our hollow mountain watching our shadows play upon the wallentranced by our malformeddoppelgängers

what we thought was lovewas just its shadowas it passed at the mouth of our cavecasting its facsimile withinby the light of the sun

but the sun has set,and the shadows are goneor concealed by the overwhelming darkthat crept from its asylumwhen the threat of the sunhad retreated into the depths of the sea

we searched for each other in the dark, fingers trailing along warm rocksas we searched for flesh barely more invitingthan the stone we used to guide us,gray surface protecting shining quartzburied deep within,rough surface shielding usfrom lava flowing deep beneath,whose warmth radiated up to usa feather's touch of warmth from the rock,like the faint remembrance of starlightthat finally reaches our eyesafter travelling, alone, for aeonsthrough not nothing,but the lack of anything

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nobody's thereeven your echoes have abandoned you

allallalone

our fingers brushwe clasp hands eagerlywe're not alone after allwe sit togetherleaning against the warm rockeyes closedwe can sleep so long as we know someone's thereto guard us from the oppressive lack

i don't love youbut you're a warm contrast to the cool night windi'll seek refuge with youuntil the sun is reborn from the mountains

Robin Levy ‘13

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VALENTINE’S DAY

You've showered me with rosesLilies, daisies, arranged bouquetsLovely colors to brighten my dayHave earned me much said praiseBut hark! There is one problemMuch worse than all the beesTheir smell is quite atrocious

And the pollen makes me sneeze

So you tried again with sweetsCookies, brownies, vanilla cakeFreshly baked and always warmEnough to make my belly ache

Although I love the gestureI don't mean to be a brat

Your cookies are too crunchyAll this sugar makes me fat

You persisted with stuffed animalsPlush giraffes and bears aplentyThey're cuddly and comfortingI think I’ve got about twenty

But there's one teensy-weensy issueThey're not what I prefer

I had to give them to my sister'Cause I'm allergic to fake fur

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So you tried to write a poemOf us in love at first sight

Using imagery and metaphorsI empathized with your plight

However it was too boringMaybe it needs a rewrite

I almost fell asleep with itI'd rather read Twilight

Thank you for your giftsCould you please take them backThe sweets are growing spoiledThe flowers are turning black

You should know one more thingBefore my voice grows hoarseMy birthday is in three days

So how about a Porsche?

Natalia Layson ‘15


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MAÑANA

Esencia de la mañana,goteando caliente y negro,más oscuro que el cielo antes del alba,alcanzando manos incorpóreospara agarrar mentes todavía inactivasy arrancarlas de los embragues villanosde hibernacióny sueños de letargoDeberá ser la sangre de los dioses,derramada descuidadamente a tierrapara que podamos destilarlaasí nosotros podemos llenar nuestros cuerpos pesadoscon la ligereza inexorabley fuego ineludible, eléctrico,de divinidad temporalAmargor ricoy calor que da vidaMi adicción maravillosaMi bendición liquida:café,la esencia de la mañana.

Robin Levy ‘13

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MORNING

Essence of morning,dripping warm and black,darker than the predawn sky;reaching incorporeal handsto seize still-dormant mindsand rip them away from the villainous clutchesof hibernationand dreams of lethargyIt must be the blood of the gods,spilled carelessly upon the earthfor us to distill,So we may fill our heavy bodieswith the inexorable lightnessand inescapable, electric fireof temporary divinityRich bitternessand life-giving warmth, my wondrous addiction,my liquid benediction:coffee,the essence of morning.

Robin Levy’13

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38 PRISMS 2013

ABSURDITY

Small ears riseWiggling like the wings of a butterfly,A small tail swaysLike reeds in the wind,Legs stubby, short,Eyes like beads,BodyPlump like a pillowRound like a ball,Body lines curve and wave,And the nose, the biggest partThe hippopotamus small and largeThe hippopotamusA natural paradox


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NIGHTMARE FUELMichelle Seiwald ‘13Watercolor & Ink

CASPERDanielle Pomeroy ‘13Photography

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40 PRISMS 2013

WOMAN AND THE SEAKristine Nguyen ‘14Acrylic

BANANA BOATTaylor Griffith ‘15Photograph

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RISING TIDE

there’s something in the way the rising tidecomes crashing in to meet the silent shorethe tide so often willingly collidesand begs for love with endless, tireless roars

he races, rushes, crawls upon his kneesfor one more sandy touch from the cold shorethe shore, with all her glories, does but teasethe tide returns with eyes but to adore.

for even when a man steps in the sand the tide his heavy footprints do eraseand bows again to shore and her demandsreceding from the sand, he leaves no trace.

but when night begins and day adjournsthe tide will rise and to the shore return

Amelia Khoo ‘14

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DELPHINA

The cadence of the ocean is not really known to me.A pulsing heart, a laboring lung within the balmy sea?But the answer can be found within the twinkling eyes of sheWho keeps the secret close with her across the balmy sea.

Many a watery mile lies between this Lady and I.And if I were a tern, across it I’d surely fly.But not blessed with the gift of flight, surely then can INever with the speed of flight across the ocean fly.

And in the humble garden where I sleep, there is a placeWhere many a time in slumber I have seen her distant face,But when I wake—my heart so brisk at its marathon pace—She has made a path which I cannot hope to retrace.

And so at dawn I make a plan, starting at the port,Where I can see above my head a flock of ev’ry sort.Those birds above me screech and wheel, in never-ending sport—But I must find a simpler means of oversea transport.

The sea can yet be conquered (if only just a bit)By craft of wood, most cleverly built, the ocean to outwit;But upon my destination (my fellows having split),Gone with the birds, unconquered One, still leaves me there to sit.

The cadence of the ocean is not really known to me.A pulsing heart, a laboring lung within the balmy sea?But the answer can be found within the twinkling eyes of sheWho keeps the secret close with her across the endless sea.

Jackson Sundheim ‘15

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LA PLUMA

La pluma,Desgarrada del cuerpo caliente y vivo,

Flota cansada,Insignificante, abandonada, y fría

Rebotando sobre corrientes invisiblesHundiéndose y emergiendo una y otra vez

¿Para dónde irá?La lleva el viento, por supuesto,

Afirmándola suavementeSobre el camino diseñado hace mucho tiempo.

Hasta llegar a la arena,Así adorando la costa

Con otro tesoro que olvidaron las olas.


THE FEATHER

The feather,Ripped away from a warm and lively body

Floats wearily,Insignificant, abandoned, and coldBobbing along invisible currents

Sinking and emerging againWhere will it go?

Where the wind takes it, of course,Softly cradling it

On the road it has planned long before.To the sand it goes,Adorning the coast

With another treasure the waves have forgotten.


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PARAÍSO

La arena calienteQuemaba mis pies

El viento refrescanteBesaba mi cara

El mar, azul y hermosoReflejaba las luces del sol

Mientras las olas cantaban para mí

Descansé en la sombraDe una palmera

Que bailaba con el viento

Eché un vistazo al marSe ponía el sol en el horizonteY el cielo brotó rojo y naranja

Thong Dinh ‘14 PARADISE

The hot sand Burned my feet

The refreshing windKissed my face

The sea, serene light blueReflected the lights of the sunWhile the waves sang for me

I rested in the shadeOf a palm tree

That danced with the wind

I looked to the seaAs the sun was setting in the horizon

And the sky bloomed crimson and orange

Thong Dinh ‘14

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BONSAIRose Lassalle-Klein ‘13Pastel/ Pen & Ink

REACH FOR THE SKYAlexa Martinez ‘14Tempera Paint

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46 PRISMS 2013

STREET LIGHTSTaylor Griffith ‘15Photography

MASS TRANSPORTATIONDanielle Pomeroy ‘13Photography

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THE NIGHTOSPHERE

The gates open wide,swallows me whole.

The endless linesteals my soul.

The dusky mountainhides a pit.

A bloodmist cloudfloats into it.

Follow it thereIs what I must do,

For Marceline,for me and you.

Can’t fight this cloud,I’m only mortal.Got to get back

through the portal.

Chaotic evil,show no fear.It sucks to bean Abadeer.

Amanda Mattoon ‘14

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48 PRISMS 2013

MIGHT I WISH?

Sun sinks below the horizonTiny feet dash to the windowWhere is it? Where is it?

There!

The child sees the first starHands clasped in anticipation and aweShe goes through the motionsSings the song“Star light, star bright…”Thinks of Peter PanWarm breath fogging up the windowEyes reflecting the great wonderment Of the heavens and

Suddenly the star begins to blinkIt moves across the sky

Then lands at the airport

Jenna Vacca ‘13

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DRUNKEN HUMMINGBIRDJulia Courville '15

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PEACOCKKristine Nguyen ‘14Pen & Ink

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50 PRISMS 2013

LA MANTEQUILLA

En el estante más alto del refrigerador,En la mantequillera, su trono de cristal,Se sienta el soberano de la comida,La mantequilla: la Reina de la Mesa.

Todos la reverencian,La langosta venera su suavidad.El pan adora su luz cremosa.El maíz es esclavo de su delicia viscosa.Todos saben que la mantequillaEs la Reina de la Mesa.

De su trono en el refrigerador,La jefa de comida mira a sus súbditos.Con una mirada altiva y una sonrisa orgullosaMira a sus siervos.Sabe que Es la Reina de la Cena.

Pero Su Alteza tiene un lado oscuro.Detrás de su trono, hay un secreto grave.La Reina de la Mesa,A quien todos adoran,Es la Diabla de la Grasa.

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Ella seduce a inocentes con su carisma mantecosa,Los tienta con promesas de sabor y placer,Y no entrega nada sino grasa y manteca.Hace negocios con el tocino, el queso, y la mayonesa.Los ricos se hacen más ricosY los gordos se hacen más gordos.Sabe que esta traidora pilla, nuestra reinaEs la Diabla de la Grasa.

¡Pero no somos engañados!Sabemos la realidad tras esta hipócrita.Creemos en la fuerza de los vegetalesY los granos sanos.No seremos cautivos de su cárcel grasosa.¡Luchemos!Y luego, todos en el reino de comida sabránQue la Reina de la MesaEs la Diabla de la Grasa.

Eric Baskett ‘13

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BUTTER

On the refrigerator’s highest shelf,In her dish, her crystal throne,Sits the ruler of food,Butter: the Queen of the Table.

All revere her,The lobster bows before her softness.The bread worships her creaminess.The corn is a servant to her viscous delight.All know that butterIs the Queen of the Table.

From her refrigerator throne,The master of food watches her subjects.With a haughty look and a proud smileShe watches her slaves.She knows that sheIs the Queen of the Table.

But her Highness has a darker side.Behind her throne there is a grave secret.The Queen of the Table,Whom all worship,Is the Demon of Fat.

She seduces innocents with her buttery charm,Tempts them with promises of flavor and pleasure,And delivers nothing but grease and lard.She makes deals with Bacon, Cheese and Mayonnaise.The rich become richerAnd the fat become fatter.Know that this slippery traitor, our queenIs the Demon of Fat.

But we are not fooled!We know the truth behind the hypocrite.We believe in the strength of vegetablesAnd healthy grains.We are not prisoners of her greasy cell.We will fight back!And then, all in the realm of food will knowThat the Queen of the TableIs the Demon of Fat.

Eric Baskett ‘13

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I THOUGHT YOU CARED A boy around seven or eight years oldvery skinnywith a gaunt face and tattered clothinglooks at her with big, brown eyesthat beg for love. The girl, a young American,takes a seat across from himand stares fixedly at him. And underneath all of the pain and sufferingshe notices an almost imperceptibleglimmer of hopein his eyes. After a while,she sighs deeply,walks toward him with an outstretched hand,

And changes the channel.


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LA PIÑATA

Una fiesta llena de comidas fragantes y colores vibrantes gradu-almente se oscurecen a negro. Solamente hay el parloteo incesante de los adultos. Los niños gritan con anticipación y excitación. Giro, parece sin parar, en un pie, hasta que estoy puesta en mi lugar y puedo empezar. Mis mejillas se enrojecen, mis manos transpiradas afirman el bate mientras mis pies agarran la tierra para darme equilibrio. Un sufrimiento tan raro y poco claro, pienso, pero las risas continúan. Desubicado, tiro mi bate sin direc-ción en la oscuridad. Con el silbido del bate, finalmente pego algo entre la oscuridad. Mi triunfo pequeňo manda una aclamación con el público, y sonrío. Otra vez, ¡un golpe exitoso! Oigo continuadas “uus” y “aas” cuán-do erro mi tiro nervioso. Un rato después, tiro el golpe más poderoso que podría crear con mi cuerpo pequeño. Inmediatamente, un grito unánime viene de todos los niños y una cascada de dulces ruidosos llegan al pasto. Manos desesperadas rozan mis pies buscando la delicia, empujando uno al otro y respirando con dificultad. Los ruidos de los dulces desaparecen y todavía está oscuro. ¡No puedo quitar esta venda de mis ojos!

Feliz cumpleaños…


THE PIÑATA

A party filled with fragrant foods and vibrant colors fades to black. Only the adults’ incessant chatter is heard. Children shriek with anticipation and excite-ment. I spin, seemingly without end, on one foot, until I am placed at my starting point. My cheeks flush, my sweaty palms grasp the bat while my feet try to grip the earth for some, if any, balance. A suffering so rare and confusing, I think, but the laughter goes on. Discombobulated, I swing without direction into the dark. With the whistling of my bat, I finally hit something amidst the darkness. My little victory sends cheers across the crowd, and I smile. Again, another successful blow! Continuous “oohs” and “aahs” ripple through the group when my flustered strike misses. Then I wind up and take the most prodigious and powerful swing my small frame can bear. Almost immediately, a unanimous shriek escapes from all the children as a crinkling waterfall of sweets hits the grass. Hands graze my feet in desperate search for their share, pushing each other and breathing hard. The crinkling vanishes to nothing, and it is still dark. I cannot remove this blind-fold from my eyes!

Happy Birthday...


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FORGOTTEN

I come upon a houseA dull, brown houseNo life, no vibrancy

Except a flickering light in the living room

Walking through the garden covered in weedsI see roses everywhere

The rose I planted many years agoNow a dull, green stem

I enter the house and walk to the kitchenWhere I once sat and ate eggs with soy sauce

I unload the groceries and begin to cookI see her

Walking slowly and carefully Her feeble legs moving her forward

“Hello, Poh-poh. How are you?”“Fine,” she says

A pause…“Have you seen Karina?”

Karina Myers ‘13

MY HOUSE

Remember that great place up on the hillWith lots of foodAnd nice warm beds

Remember all the booksAnd movies that lined the wallsAnd the smooth jazz music that filled the halls?

Remember how it sheltered us from the cold, wet rainOr how it kept out all of the bad guysAnd protected us every single day?

Remember the unfinished tree houseAnd the piano that we never playedOr all the smudges and stains left over from our younger days?

I remember.

It was the best house ever.


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THESE STAIRS

These are the stairsStartling crimsonCarefully cropped and preenedGleaming banisterAscending

These are the stairs where souls have trodWhere memories resound with every stepOf tiny feet and smaller handsConquering each step with sheer determinationRolling onto all foursAnd up again

These are the stairs where children laughedAnd got rug burnAnd slid down railings without a care in the worldAnd hid at the top to tell secretsWhere each step was like a gameWhere parents cautionedAnd lollipops droppedAnd all was clean again by morning

Here is where they stood for their picturesEven the brand new puppyA birthday, a holiday, a partyHere is where the music rangTo echo through the halls

On this step they sat and rocked their child to sleepCrooning their lullabiesWith the weight of two people they labored upstairsTo place the child safely in bed at last

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If only these stairs could speakOf the many paths traveledUp, down, and up againThe long nightsThe busy nightsThe cold nightsWhen snow-soaked shoes dusted these steps with dew

These are the stairs where they said farewellWhere they sat in anticipationThen carefully ascendedFirst left, then rightFrail hand on railing

They are the stairs now layered with dustThat creak occasionallyBut still they standAnd remain steadfastMoaning but never complainingThey hold the hopes and prayers of hundreds of years in their fibers

Never looking downAlways leading backAscending

Jenna Vacca ‘13

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ADIÓS

Recuerdo su prolongado abrazo

Recuerdo sus ojosY como estaban llenos de lágrimas

Recuerdo su voz temblorosaCuando me dijo que tenía que irse

Nunca puedo olvidarEl día cuando mi papáDijo adiós

Lydia Hall ‘14

GOODBYE

I remember his long hug

I remember his eyesAnd how they were full of tears

I remember his voice tremblingWhen he told me he had to go

I will never forgetThe day my dadSaid goodbye

Lydia Hall ‘14

BRICK BY BRICKDanielle Pomeroy ‘13Pencil

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THE WAVES OF NEW JERSEY

I wake upTo the sound of the waves,Steady. Soft. A new day.

The beach. Sand like daggers in my feet.The ocean, green and blue. A forest of water.

The sun, pricking my skinLike a hornet’s sting

Late in the night, on the beach,I am there. Alone, but not lonely.

A paper boat called “Youth”Glides on top of the waves,

Steady, soft.

William Keane ‘14

MEMORIES

The late August sun rested on my lapClouds of cotton surfed the blue sky

I laid my head on the Santa Cruz sandAs the ocean’s hands grabbed the white shore

The arms of time made full circlesGentle wind danced over the tranquil land

The shimmering sea twinkled like a million chandeliersAs black wings floated across the iridescent dusk

In my memory, life was as lovely as the beach

Ryann Malicdem ‘14

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60 PRISMS 2013

MI ANCLA

Mi Anclafuerte, omnipotente

aguanta la furia del océanoMi emblema de hierro

mi gracia salvadoralucha contra las olas enojadas

Mi guardián silenciosocon mi fe interminable

Me abraza en la tormentaMi Ancla de confianza

Me dirijo hacia tiCuando la vida es el mar


MY ANCHOR

My Anchorstrong, gallant

withstands the ocean’s rageMy iron emblemmy saving grace

fights the angry wavesMy silent guardian

with my endless faithHugs me in a stormMy trusted Anchor

I turn to youWhen life is the sea


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BLISS IN EVERY SIPMaribelle Martinez '13

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NEVER ONE WITHOUT THE OTHER

Rise and fall, Rising only to fall, Again, one more time,A pattern,A pattern of wavesCrash on the beaches of CancúnAnd retreat into the seaOnly to rise and to fall Again, one more time,A patternA pattern of life,Always rising,Always falling,Never the riseWithout the fall,Like the waves in CancúnLife will rise and fall,Again, one more time,A pattern,A pattern of waves,A pattern of life.


STILL LIFEJackson Sundheim ‘15Charcoal & White Conte Crayon

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62 PRISMS 2013

CINQUE TERRE

El sol calurosoNos ofrece su poder doradoMientras vagamos a través del caminoPolvoriento e interminable.El horizonte que une el cielo y el marSe queda en la distanciaPor fin alcanzamos las aguas refrescantesUn refugio para nuestros pies.


CINQUE TERRE

The blistering hot sunOffers us its golden power

As we meander throughThe endless dirt road.

The horizon where the sea and sky meetRemains in the near distance

We finally reach the refreshing watersA refuge for our feet.


CAMOUFLAGE

The peaceful desertDeceptively safe

Yet hiding many secrets

Every OctoberI traveled towards peace

To witness the secrets

Hungry coyotes howledSolitary snakes slithered

And the cacti thrust their thorns

Yes, I remember the desertI love it and all it hides

For the desert is my oasis

Dalton Green ‘14

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RUSIA

Misteriosa y arroganteInmensa y majestuosa

El viento más fríoQue el hielo del cielo

El agua de tus ríos más limpiaQue la sangre

Que corre dentro de los animales salvajesDe tu tierra

Las olas de tu marLlevan las cargas de tu gente

RusiaViolentaPoderosa

Brian Pérez ‘13

RUSSIA

Mysterious and arrogantImmense and majestic

The wind is colderThan ice from the heavens

The water of your rivers is cleanerThan the blood

That runs through the wild animalsOf your land

The waves of your seaWash away the burdens of your people

RussiaViolent

Powerful

Brian Perez ‘13

ROSIE AND LICORICEKohl Grunt ‘15Scratchboard

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64 PRISMS 2013

PEZ SOLO EN ACUARIO

Soy prisionero del vidrio.Una joya rodeada de la tristeza.Las burbujas roban el aireY me quedo sin alma.Las plantas, altas y esbeltas,Me abrazan. El buzo me reconoce y me saluda.El baúl con tesoro opacoEs robado por piratas.

Soy prisionero de la soledad.Sin amigos, sin compañía, sin felicidad.Sueño con el océano, grande y salado,Sin ninguna frontera,Libre.Amigos con escamas de todos los coloresDel arco iris.Sueño que nunca me dejen,Pero después se van, como olas del mar.

Soy prisionero del no saber,Reducido a poca inteligencia y sabiduría.A veces me miro en el reflejo,Pero no me conozco.

Kimberly González ‘14

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LONE FISH IN THE AQUARIUM

I am a prisoner of the glass.A jewel surrounded by gloominess.Bubbles steal airAnd I’m left without a soul.The plants, long and slender, Hug me. The diver recognizes me and waves.The trunk with pale treasure Is robbed by pirates.

I am a prisoner of solitude.Without friends, without company, without happiness.I dream of the ocean, grand and salty, Without borders,Free.Friends with scales the colors Of the rainbow.I dream that they will never leave me,But they do anyway, like ocean waves.

I am a prisoner of not knowing,Reduced to little intelligence and wisdom.Sometimes I look at my reflection,But I don’t recognize myself.

Kimberly Gonzalez ‘14

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66 PRISMS 2013

EL CARACOL

El caracol diminuto emerge de su escondite yTímidamente se desliza sobre la aceraLentamente, sudando, dejando un camino de baba.De repente,Los rayos del sol salenY bendice el mundo con su luz luminosaY su efusión acogedora.El caracol anhela una sombra,Un refugio de la intensidad del sol.De pronto,Una oscuridad lo envuelveY se siente tranquilo.Se acomoda pero,Repentinamente,La oscuridad se hace más intensa.El zapato se acerca y hace contacto con la aceraAplasta la cascara crujiente con un gran¡Crac!Dejando los restos paraPudrirse en la intensidad del sol.

Isabela Reid

LA MARIPOSA

Mariposa brillanteVuela sobre el verde de las praderasBajo el arco iris, sobre la rosaDonde le gusta descansarVuela como una hoja en el vientoBellos colores bajo el cielo azulMovimientos silenciosos de alasSusurrando en el jardín

Bianca de la Cruz ’15

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THE SNAIL

The little snail emerges from hiding andTimidly slithers on the sidewalkSlowly, sweating, leaving a trail of slime.Suddenly,The sun’s rays come outAnd bless the world with their luminous lightAnd comfortable warmth.The snail yearns for a shadow,A refuge from the intensity of the sun.Suddenly,Darkness surrounds himAnd he feels peaceful.He gets comfortable butSuddenly,The darkness becomes more intense.The shoes get closer and make contact with the sidewalkCrushing the crunchy shell with a loudCrack!Leaving the remains toRot in the intense heat of the sun.

Isabela Reid ‘14

THE BUTTERFLY

Bright butterflyFlies over the green of the meadowUnder the rainbow, atop the roseWhere it likes to restIt flies like a leaf in the windBeautiful colors under the blue skySilent movement of wingsWhispering in the garden

Bianca de la Cruz ‘15

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THE LITTLE BIRD

He feels as though he has failedLike a bird who can’t flyAnd falls to the ground from the nestHis wings are not yet readyHe looks over to see the othersHow swiftly they moveHow they have harmonized with the wind

He never leaves the battleThe passion within his soul fuels his ambition His want, his desire worn on his sleeveHe fights for his very heart inside the ring that is life

Defeat after defeat he continues to riseThe small ember within his soul grows Until it burns white hot like the sunHe fails and fails yet-He gets stronger and stronger

The little bird has grownWith failure as his allyThe eagle now soars

Emilio Sanchez ‘14

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WATER’S TOUCHTaylor Griffith ‘15

Photography

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70 PRISMS 2013

LOOKING FOR ULYSSES

My grandpa's tolerance level is, quite honestly, pretty low. He gets frustrated with people, systems, "the world nowadays," etc. This does not mean that he is an intro-verted, retired senior who goes to the weekly bingo nights at the local senior center. On the contrary, my grandpa cannot stay still. He loves to travel, and he always has. He has always viewed travel as essential because it exposes us to different people, cultures, history, music, literature, and more. His generosity is also an admirable trait; he has financially supported his brothers and sisters, good family friends, and of course, our close immediate fam-ily through tough times. This combination of traits allows for a world traveler who is willing to take anyone (well, grandchildren, at least) practically anywhere (that is, any-where you can find a McDonald's).

When I visited Ireland for the first time over the sum-mer with my grandpa, I quickly became acquainted with the Irish author James Joyce, both his life and his works. My grandpa had visited Ireland many times before, so he served as an excellent tour guide...most of the time.

One day, my grandpa decided he wanted to visit the Martello Tower featured in Joyce's Ulysses. I wasn't too thrilled since I knew practically nothing about the novel, let alone a place from the novel. Nevertheless, I didn't have a choice, and I trusted that my grandpa would take me to informative and interesting places. After looking through numerous pamphlets and guide books, he asked the ticket seller at the train station to confirm that Sandy-mount was the correct place to go.

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The ticket seller looked irritated and tired, and you could tell he hated his job. He gruffly replied "Yes." We climbed onto the train and arrived in the small beachside town of Sandymount about 45 minutes later. We got off the train and asked an elderly gentleman if he could direct us to the Martello Tower, assuming that most local folks would know about it, it being an important site in such a masterpiece of a novel. The gentleman looked a little confused, but pointed in a di-rection. We approached the tower, but didn't see an en-trance or anything that looked like a gift shop or muse-um. We were extremely confused...was it closed? Was this the right place? Since neither of us had a cell phone to call the museum, we had to walk to the nearest gas station and ask if we could use their phone (I had the phone number in my purse). After calling the museum, they told us that yes, it was open, but it was located in Sandycove, not Sandymount. It took everything in me not to laugh because my grandpa truly looked frus-trated. After quite a lot of grumbling from my grandpa, hopping back onto the train, and arriving at the correct Martello Tower in Sandycove, we learned that there were several, about 50, Martello Towers all along the east coast of Ireland. I asked my grandpa if he knew this, and he replied "Me? Does it look like I know what I'm doing?"

Thanks grandpa. I'll make sure to tell my mom what a responsible tour guide you are!

Isabela Reid ‘14

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72 PRISMS 2013

EL PAÍS DE LA ETERNA PRIMAVERA

Guatemala, el país de la eterna primaveradonde las montañas, cubiertas por las más exquisitas flores salvajes,acompañadas por el más dulce trinar de las aves,extiende una invitación a todos sus habitantes a cuidar de esa hermosura natural que Dios les dio.

Tristemente, cada mañana el cielo y el sol se oscurecencon el denso humo provocado por la quema inconsciente de la basuraacumulada en los hogares más pobres del país de la eterna primavera.

Pero manteniendo viva la esperanza, cada mañana,la monja blanca con todo su resplandor, abre sus pétalos diciendo,“Gracias por la vida!”Y el Quetzal, remontando su vuelo más que el cóndor y el águila real,eleva sus alas al cielo, saludando a Guatemala y su nombre inmortal.

Axel Garcia ‘13

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THE LAND OF ETERNAL SPRING

Guatemala, the land of eternal springwhere the mountains, covered by the most exquisite wild flowers,accompanied by the sweetest chirping of birds,extend an invitation to all to take care of the natural beauty that God gave them.

Sadly, every morning the sky and the sun are darkenedby the dense smoke caused by the unconscious burning of garbageaccumulated in the poorest households in the country of eternal spring.

But keeping hope alive each morningla monja blanca in full bloomopens its petals saying, “Thank you for the gift of life!”And the Quetzal, flying higher than the condor and the royal eagle,opens his wings to the sky, saluting Guatemala and its immortal name.

Axel Garcia ‘13

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74 PRISMS 2013

METAL

When I was bornthey poured molten metal down my throatthat I might have a silver tongue,to charm and delight and deceive

My hair they crafted from copperpulling it to untold lengths of the finest wirethat glows like fire in the light of the sunto draw you in with outstretched fingers,yearning to touch

They dripped mercury in my eyesliquid silver that shimmers like moonlightand darts to avoid your searching gaze

But my skin, my flesh is not this cold, hard metalmy flesh is warm amber, all honey and fragility,already laced with spiderweb cracks,like threads that might hold me together,mapping my every flaw and foible,all weaknesses displayed with gentle care

Robin Levy ‘13

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LAKE MERRITT STAMPSMariana Garibay ‘13Digital Art

REPAIRRose Lassalle-Klein ‘13Acrylic

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WISHAndrew Leong ‘14Photography

SUNSET IN ALAMEDAAmy Wang ‘15Watercolor

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PRISMS 2013 77

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WINTER’S TOUCH

Pale light peeking through frost-coated leavesUnbroken silence and white powdered sceneWinter chill blowing through the frigid airFlurries flying round and round without careSnowflakes falling along with the breezeLittle white fairies flying through the treesIcicles shine and shimmer with graceSkaters glide across the frozen lake’s faceWith the soft fall of late night snowPearly flowers of frost form on the window

Rachel Falkner ‘13

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78 PRISMS 2013

FIREFLY

catch the stars before they catch youburn your palms as you cup them in your handsfingers squeezed tight so as not to spill,but transfixed by the inevitable leakof prismatic yellow starlight from between your fingersdripping from the gaps of your handto spatter upon every surface,while its comrades continue their search for release,fluttering against your rough palmsthat seal their furor within.so powerful,oh so powerful,yet defeated by simplebonesand skin

Robin Levy ‘13

SOLITARYJackson Sundheim ‘15Photography

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CONTRIBUTORS

ALEXANDRA AUBRY reflects on her reflection in her self portrait. She considers herself steadfast yet flexible, much like a palm tree weathering a storm.

ERIC BASKETT’s “La mantequilla” satirizes the temptation of butter, a contrast between its melt-in your-mouth taste and clogger of arteries. Despite what he says, he eats butter regularly. If he were a tree, he would be a lepidodendron, an extinct genus of ancient treelike mosses from the Carboniferous Period. Only he can pronounce these long words.

PRISMS staff member DANIELA CHAPARRO was inspired by her travels to Europe to write “Cinque Terre.” Because she loves to laugh, she would like to be a willow tree just so she can tickle people with her branches.

JULIA COURVILLE’s musical composition depicts a drunken hummingbird in the high, fast trilling notes of the flute. Those hummingbirds sure must love pyracantha berries!

BIANCA DE LA CRUZ is inspired by the beauty of nature. If she could be any tree, she would be a willow tree because she loves how stunning and mystical the tree looks with its hanging branches.

A lover of maple syrup, THONG DINH would love to be a maple tree so he could top his own pancakes. An artist all around, Thong loves playing music and singing in addition to writing poetry.

PRISMS staff member NIGEL DUNIVEN can’t believe how fast time flies. He balances academics with leadership roles as a member of CMEB and president of the Sociedad Honoraria Hispánica.

GRACE FALKNER was inspired by rowing at night on the estuary. When she is not at crew, she is either drawing or reading in her room.

PRISMS staff member RACHEL FALKNER loves to read, dance and perform in musicals. If she were a tree, she would be a fully decked out Christmas tree, looking out the window at the falling snow.

AXEL GARCÍA primarily found his poetic creativity through thoughts of his home coun-try of Guatemala and his longing to return. Naturally, with this burning patriotism, Axel would choose to be a cieba, the national tree of Guatemala.

We propose that MARIANA GARIBAY’s stamp design of Lake Merritt be adopted by the US Postal Service. Let’s put Oakland on the map!

Inspired by the serenity and quiet of the night, CAROLINA GUADALUPE GONZÁLEZ wrote “Mi camino.” This inspiration also drives her to play marimba and compose her own music.

A self-described wallflower of sorts, JANET GONZALEZ would rather express herself through writing than speaking. If she could be a tree, she would be a small, unknown one so people would pass right by her, yet she would get to experience everything around her.

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KIMBERLEY GONZALEZ wrote “Sólo un niño” after seeing the loneliness and poverty in the lives of children all over the world. Posessing her own personal strength and ground-edness, she relates most to an oak tree.

DALTON GREEN loves many things, from rock music to biscuits and gravy. His submis-sion “Camouflage” was inspired by his fond memories of the desert.

TAYLOR GRIFFITH’s photographer’s eye is drawn to nature. Not surprisingly, he loves to swim under the waves and watch time go by. Hopefully not too long from under water.

KOHL GRUNT is a sophomore on the varsity volleyball team. He has been dubbed the White Mamba by his teammates.

LYDIA HALL is a huge fan of Edgar Allan Poe and Jane Austen. She can see herself as an apple tree - perhaps with Jane Austen writing a romance novel beneath her leaves.

PRISMS Layout Editor DESIREÉ HARRIS contributed several poems to this year’s mag-azine, and was inspired by her home and graffiti art. Because she likes apples, she would choose to be an apple tree. And an apple a day keeps the doctor away.

GABRIELA HINOJOSA’s “El peligro” was inspired by her experiences living in Oakland. She has remained a strong example to others living in Oakland, just as a redwood possesses strength and determination.

ALEX HOLTZMAN’s “favorite notes” signify the journey taken to achieve simple, musi-cal, perfect satisfaction. They remind him of water and simple, raw elements. He co-wrote this piece when life was flowing well. He has been composing music for piano and guitar for almost 4 years and would like to be a professional musician.

An East Coast native, WILL KEANE was inspired by the nostalgic memories he has of the Jersey Shore and family reunions there. The simplicity and life in the heart of a pine tree are inspiring to him.

PRISMS Literary Editor AMELIA KHOO subconsciously assigns personalities to musi-cal chords: minor chords are evil, major are good. An accomplished musician, she plays piano and loves to sing. Gingko trees enthrall her - they are so regal, serene and lovely in autumn.

An ubiquitous presence on campus, PRISMS staff member ROSE LASSALLE-KLEIN is mesmerized by big words like refraction. Check out “Repair.”

PRISMS staff member NATALIA LAYSON had a ball poking fun at love in her poem “Valentine’s Day.”

ANDREW LEONG seeks out a lot of eclectic music and film. His photo “Wish” was born during a sad and rainy walk in Yosemite Valley.

SJND’s very own Poet Laureate, ROBIN LEVY, is an enigma who listens to the beat of her own drum. A caffeine fiend, coffee provides her the liquid energy to write magnificent poetic creations.

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RYANN MALICDEM has a special appreciation of the sea after his grandfather served in the Navy. Ryann developed a trust in God, seeing Him as using the sea as a symbol of Ryann’s own life, and this is expressed in his poem, “Mi ancla.”

ALEXA MARTINEZ has always been fascinated by clouds, and this fascination inspired her piece “Reach for the Sky”. Because they are often the heart of the forest, she would be a redwood.

MARIBELLE MARTINEZ’s musical composition “Bliss in Every Sip” sounds like her drinking Dr. Pepper, her favorite soda. Besides drums, she plays guitar and bass and is currently learning alto saxophone.

AMANDA MATTOON’s tongue-in-cheek “Nightosphere” was inspired by the episode “Return of the Nightosphere” from Adventure Time. A chocoholic, Amanda would be a vampire if blood were chocolate.KARINA MYERS wrote “Forgotten” as a way to pay homage to her grandmother who has Alzheimer’s. In the future, she would like to be a doctor, and, if she were given the chance, she would be a graceful willow tree.

KRISTINE NGUYEN may be confused about life, but her “Peacock” shows its complex-ity. She loves cherry trees in bloom.

Artist CHRISTOPHER OBEREMPT’s piece “Remembrance” was inspired by a family friend and member of the Veterans community who recently passed away. He would be a redwood tree because of their strong and regal nature.

JUSTIN PASSION has a passion for art.

Despite not being even the slightest bit Russian, BRIAN PEREZ wrote “Russia” after he watched a film about it. If given the chance, he would take a leaf out of Shel Silverstein’s book and be The Giving Tree.

PRISMS Art Editor DANIELLE POMEROY will bend over backwards to find new per-spectives. Like a maple tree, she loves to share her sweetness through her art and musical talent.

ISABELA REID’s grandfather’s kind heart drove her to write her little memoir. This piano-playing PRISMS Spanish Editor would like to be a dainty and beautiful cherry tree in another life.

CARLOS RODRIGUEZ’s “Ode to the Book” started as a poem about a pencil. One never knows where the mind will wander to. A camera? A computer?

JOSHEN RUELOS’ self portrait captures his personality. If he could be a tree, he would be a pine because it grows very tall, lives long, smells - well, like pine - and never loses its color.

EMILIO SANCHEZ intends to inspire others. Hoping to maintain his calm attitude, he wishes to be a relaxed palm tree swaying in the wind with a little bird in his fronds.

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82 PRISMS 2013

Animation fascinates OSCAR SAN MIGUEL. His favorite tree is the spiked yucca brevi-folia - yuc! yuk! ouch!

A native-born Russian, JONATHAN SCHUITEMA is a self-taught guitarist with a pas-sion for music and engineering. After having one of the best experiences of his life at an Avenged Sevenfold concert, Jonathan was inspired by his love of the band and their music to write his poem. His composition, “Autumn Aura” was inspired by his love of contem-porary jazz; its title comes from his fascination with the transition between the blistering heat of summer and the brisk coldness of fall. He plans to continue exploring jazz not only on bass but also on guitar and piano.

MICHELLE SEIWALD loves to go Where the Wild Things Are. She would like to be eaten by giraffes... that is, if she were an acacia tree.

PRISMS staff member JACKSON SUNDHEIM knows how to find beauty in everything, as evidenced by his photography and poem “Delphina.” He says that art comes from the mind, not from the classroom.

PRISMS Editor-in-Chief JENNA VACCA loves to make people laugh and smile with her upbeat attitude. Her poem, “These Stairs” is the first poem she has specifically written about her family. When she was little, she used to wish she lived with Peter Pan in Neverland.

AMY WANG was inspired by the sunset at the beach. She took pictures of the breathtaking view when her cousins visited from China. She then decided to paint it.

JACKSON WITHERSPOON thinks that only he and his collaborator, Alex Holtzman, could be famous for playing a piece such as “My Favorite Notes,” especially in venues like the Greek Theater and the Fox Theater.

ALESSANDRA ZAMBRANO derives her creativity from the world around her. Balanc-ing her loves of art, music, and dance, she chooses to be a willow tree for its grace and flexibility.

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Faculty and Staff: Susan Beck* Martha Carpenter Dempsey Lynn Kane Meza* Elizabeth Peláez Norris* Robert Williams*Charter Members

Caroline Abellar ‘04*Jared Alokozai ‘11Lucy Álvarez ‘05Ernesto Arévalo ‘10Jose Ávalos ‘08Yesenia Baires ‘09Fernando Barragán ‘12Michelle Bautista ‘93Jacqueline Belloso ‘13Jessica Blomstrom ‘06Ariana Braga ‘10Tia Brown ‘11Zoë Byrne ‘06Danielle Campbell ‘06Natalya D. Caraballo ‘07Crystal Carrillo ‘12Cynthia Carrillo ‘08Kedron Diane Casteen ‘06Tracy Castillo ‘10Natasha Chacón ‘06Daniela Chaparro ‘14Sophia Chaparro ‘09Claire Connacher ‘11Ann Dam ‘06Oliver Dam ‘10Jo Anne C. Dantoc ‘05Justine C. Dantoc ‘07Omar de la Cruz ‘11Natalie De Leon ‘07Danielle Diaz ‘05Justin Dimig ‘06Thong Dinh ‘14Emily Dobrzanowski ‘10Christopher Duong ‘10Crystal Estrada ‘12Rachel Falkner ‘13Jackie Favela ‘06

Diego Flores ‘06Gabriel Flores ‘10Martín Franco ‘08Tia Gangopadhyay ‘11Genora Givens ‘09Guadalupe Carolina González ‘13Kimberly González ‘14Rebecca González ‘12Dalton Green ‘14Casey Greer ‘12Alyxandria Guzmán ‘07Desiree Harris ‘13Patricia Jimenez ‘09Jonathan Kachiu ‘10Amelia Khoo ‘14Kate Lassalle-Klein ‘12Robin Levy ‘13Andrea Lino ‘04Gabriela Lippi ‘08Marisela Loza ‘07Danielle Maddix ‘08Ryann Malicdem ‘14Megan Manning ‘10Peter Matarrese ‘06Amanda Matoon ‘14Chris McClintock ‘10Allison Meins ‘09Priscilla Mena ‘05Rocío Molina ‘08Annie Mooney ‘11Joanna Mooney ‘06Teresa Mooney ‘09Jerónimo Mora ‘11Martin Moreno ‘07Paulani Mui ‘06Allegra O’ Donoghue ‘04*Mary Onglatco ‘11

Kim Owens ‘05*Tiffany Palmer ‘11Jeremy Poggio ‘04*Christany Poggio ‘07Michael Priest ‘05*Jennifer Quintanilla ‘06Christian Ramos ‘05Jordan Rausse ‘12Jessica Reader ‘05Barry Reed ‘44Isabela Reid ‘14Katherine Riley ‘10Megan Riley ‘11Renato Rocha ‘07César San Miguel ‘11Kenn Scullin ‘44Lily Smith ‘09Gabrielle Soria ‘06*Sarah Su ‘10Jesse Swatling-Holcomb ‘09Lorena Tabares ‘08Allison Tuazon ‘11Imani Todd ‘12Sara Torres ‘04Nneka Umeh ‘08Jenna Vacca ‘13Kelley Villa ‘10Mirella Villalpando ‘09Alexander Weyand ‘01Harrison Wilkes ‘03Michael Williams ‘02Norman Xie ‘09Jessica Yalung ‘05*Alessandra Zambrano ‘13Francesca Zambrano ‘10Dulce Zamora ‘89

STAR SOCIETY OF CREATIVE WRITERS The Star Society of Creative Writers is a privileged membership organization of the SJND community. Membership is offered to students, alumni, and faculty whose cre-ative writing has been published or has won an excellence award outside this community. Students must also have been published in PRISMS. Each member recieves a star pin to wear at graduation.

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*FirstPlacewithSpecialMeritAmericanScholasticPressAssociation

*ExcellenceAwardNationalCouncilofTeachersofEnglish*FirstPlacewithSpecialMeritAmericanScholasticPressAssociation

*ExcellenceAwardNationalCouncilofTeachersofEnglish*FirstPlacewithSpecialMeritAmericanScholasticPressAssociation

*Superior-ConsideredforHighestAwardFinalistNationalCouncilofTeachersofEnglish*FirstPlacewithSpecialMeritAmericanScholasticPressAssociation

*MostOutstandingPrivateSchoolLiterary-ArtMagazineoftheYear*FirstPlacewithSpecialMeritAmericanScholasticPressAssociation

*FirstPlacewithSpecialMeritAmericanScholasticPressAssociation

*FirstPlaceAwardAmericanScholasticPressAssociation

*BronzeAwardforOutstandingAchievement*Merlyn’sPen:TheNationalMagazineofStudentWriting

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