Welcome to ANGLES Issue 11!
This year marks a series of changes to our literary journal. New staff come with new approaches and visions which we hope come through in this collection. But ANGLES is never afraid of change, or an opportunity to share fresh faces and young voices with you, dear reader.
In this issue, we are honoring the passing of M.J. Iuppa, who served as the faculty advisor of this journal for many years, back when we called it The Angle. We are deeply saddened by her loss and grateful for her work that helped bring these writers to you. Her poem, “In the end the voice of an adult speaks,” first published in The Angle in 1999, is rereleased in this issue in her memory.
Our issue features new artists who challenge our expectations and dare us to envision what a new generation of creativity can look like. In poetry, Callisto Lim’s “Bakekujira” makes its reader shudder out of their own humanity into animalism, while works like Ivani Atre’s “Jocasta’s Qualms” ask us to question what personhood truly means. The collection of prose in this issue brings pieces like Kay Lee’s “Funerals in South Korea,” which builds a moment with stunning sensory details and a clear narrative voice. Of course, this issue would not be possible without our featured artist, Ellie Wardman. Ellie’s photography gives a striking juxtaposition of natural and urban scenery.
Thank you to all our writers, artists, and readers for your help making this issue possible!
Keep writing!
Mia Lindenburg, Sophia Ross, & Kirsten Comstock
ANGLES Managing Editors
IN THE END THE VOICE OF AN ADULT SPEAKS by M.J. IUPPA
In the end the voice of an adult speaks: Not in the stern upbraid that hung On your ear as a child, but A voice like cold pearls is water Moving underground, Low-key, unwavering, Telling you to collect your wits. Without melancholy You...
TWO POEMS by CALLISTO LIM
SINGAPORE TIGER Off Singapore, if you were to watch the southern coast for the entire day, you would count 2000 ships passing through, riding low. Blue-gray bowls with froot loop-colored boxes. laden with cargo bound for the Pacific. In a car, a father drives...
SOME PEOPLE GO TO HELL WHEN THEY DIE SWEARS by GALE ACUFF
our Sunday School teacher, some to Heaven and then she asks us ten-year-olds Which kind will you be and I wanted to raise my hand and say I'm just a little boy, I'm not people at all and that might be good for a laugh, from my classmates anyway and maybe even from God...
MY UNIVERSE IN VERSE by LAUREN SALLIOTTE
FORBIDDEN FRUIT I give my heart so easily to those who devour me like the shell of a human. These con artists with powdered noses and lips dripping with nectar numb me with their serpent tongues that spill depthless flatteries. And I return addicted craving...
IN DREAMS I AM A PERSON OF COLOR by NAOMI LOWINSKY
III. IN DREAMS I AM A PERSON OF COLOR Imagine that numinous beings visit your sleep Imagine they know your every mood hue and cry The Wise One Sophia who speaks through your third eye has skin the tint of tea with a splash of cream The...
SOLSTICE by KATHERINE DYAL
I. I tried to hang myself with electrical wires on a utility pole underneath pink clouds and above false sunflowers, and the crows watch unfeelingly. I waited for them to stop me. I waited for anyone to come stop me, but no one did, so after the sun finally set,...
NO FORMAL PROPERTIES by IVANI ATRE
i. DARK ROOM AT A GOOD PARTY before either of us were pushed up against the wall, plastered on the wallpaper, where everybody can see the outlines of the heat of us, i wanted to ask you stupid questions. breathing in your exhalations, breathing in the intensity...
FUNERALS IN SOUTH KOREA by KAY LEE
There are lots of rooms in the hallway we walk down. The walls are a surprisingly merry beige, and I crane my head to read each stand I walk past. I pass a few names before my mom starts walking in the direction of anextravagant flower stand before walking into the...
MIDNIGHT ZONE by SATORI MCCORMICK
I am amazed at the way Hiromi can roll up our decades spent in the warmth of each other’s shadows and pack it tight in a joint for strangers to smoke leisurely. Take casual pleasure in the aroma of our radioactive marriage. Of course, this was before marriage had yet...
HYLA DIED TWENTY YEARS AGO by CALLISTO LIM
Hyla is floating. He is in the abyss, weightless in his death. His spacecraft has failed, its engine stalling halfway to his destination. The ship ruptured in flight, splintering like an eggshell, tossing him into space. Adrift in the emptiness of space, his helmet...
MISSING: OLIVIA ALDEN, AGE 16 by LAUREN HARTMAN
“Oh, that's a shame.” I look up from my phone. “What?” “Just…” Mom sighs. “That billboard said a girl went missing.” I check the back window, squinting against the harsh midafternoon sun, but all I see is an advertisement for car insurance. “We got an email about that...
THE CLOWN by JULIAN GALLO
The clown appears, taking his usual position at the center of Astor Place. He may get a few glances, but for the most part people barely notice him. He’s not dressed like a typical circus clown. He’s more of a hobo clown with his beat up sports jacket, raggedy baggy...
FEATURED ARTIST GALLERY
Ellie Wardman is a sophomore at the University of Maryland, Baltimore County and is majoring in Psychology with a minor in Writing. Her work is set to be published in 'Outrageous Fortune' this Spring. Ellie's goal in life is to work with children and to one day become...