imagesBy(Alex)
Lagunita
You might have heard
There’s no water
It’s like part of the hill
was weak, and sank under the weight of reeds
what live in crowds, and grow
spines, to keep out the neighbors
And the time is kept in frogcroaks
a million to the hour
The lizards ricochet from reed to reed
panicked
whenever a dog’s bark resets the clock
There’s a house on the top
of the hill, big and
shiny, it looks like it became
a planter for its own palm tree
The porch lights harmonize silently
with the fireflies in summer
But they keep many clocks in that house
and do not live by frogtime
Illustration by Alex Bayer, Poem by Ava Lindstrom. They are serving, respectively, as the Stanford Arts Review’s Artist-in-Residence and Poet-in-Residence for the Winter Quarter.
('15, English, Studio Art) likes dry British humor and shops in the kids' section of Target for Hello Kitty merchandise. she can be found wishing she were anywhere, just anywhere, else.