New Constellations Magazine
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ISSUE THREE

SPRING 2022
New Constellations Magazine Issue 2 Fall 2021 Cover ft. Ann Tai's painting All is Whale

"Fireworks" by Angelica Elizabeth Ybarra

8/31/2022

 
FEATURED VISUAL ART
Orange fireworks exploding against a dark sky, reflecting in the water in the foreground

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Letter from the Editor

8/31/2022

 
The stars you see looking down upon you on a clear summer’s night are no more. What you see are ghosts, memories of celestial bodies that burnt too bright for too long. They continue to shine out even now thousands of years after they’ve gone out, demonstrating not only the length it takes for their light to reach us, but the wonder remaining after the end of physical existence.

Good writings are like stars; they continue to “shine on” as the years pass. Think of Homer, of Shakespeare, of Twain, Austin, Du Bois, and Poe: writers who have been dead for centuries, yet not forgotten. There isn’t a high school student living in the US today who doesn’t know the story of overdramatic Hamlet and his dysfunctional family. Homer’s chronicles of Odysseus have existed for thousands of years before anyone of us were born, and they’ll exist thousands of years after we’ve gone.

Stories are like stars…

Many years from now, the stars in the sky will change. A new star will pop up and take its place alongside older ones. If stories are indeed like stars, we need new ones to supplement the ones that have burned for so long. We need new stars, new constellations, to brighten up our sky.

In this magazine, you will find an assortment of stories. Some of them have similar themes. Others are completely different. All are unique.

Will any of the works of these young writers join the constellations of texts you grew up adoring?  That’s for you—and time—to decide. But keep reading.

You might discover the next Ursa Major hiding within these pages.

- Scott Riner, ​Student Editor
Picture

Table of Contents

8/31/2022

 

ART

“Fireworks” by Angelica Elizabeth Ybarra
“Alaskan Mountains” by Angelica Elizabeth Ybarra
“Broken But Loved” by Baily Burkett
“Sunbathing” by Angelica Elizabeth Ybarra

FICTION

“Tank” by Hope Yang
“Soul-ed?” by Morgyn Thomas
“Recognize” by Hope Yang

POETRY

“Ephemera” by Srishti Pandey
“Lighthouse” by Ann Tai
“ne plus ultra" by Srishti Pandey
“The Canary" by Violet Lopaze
“zillow” by Caroline Schwartzbeck
“Impulse” by Daniel Zhang
“Hidden Love" by Joshua Carrero
“Lime and Bleach" by Freedom Strange
“Black Fire Surrounds Me” by Joshua Carrero
“Please" by Erin Pyle
Picture

"Ephemera" by Srishti Pandey

8/31/2022

 
POETRY
It’s been a lifetime of childhood
Since I traversed this path of stone,
The spikes of grass marking my skin
As one of theirs. We were wannabes
Sleeping under the canopy
Of fleeting dreams. A fleeting time.
Entangled limbs / Blurred lines.

The house still stands alone--
Haunted, yet hidden. More like you
Me than I would’ve thought.
With the roof collapsing on itself
Our smells have long turned to mold.
Reclaimed by the woods; it’s barely there,
A living apparition & you & me.

A playground past expiration.
That outgrowth, we’ve outgrown.
Rickety slides. Swings which creak
Under the weight of whispered promises
Of touched skies. Weathered ground
I’ve known–changing sand and stone.
I yearn for a ghost life I do not know.

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"Tank" by Hope Yang

8/31/2022

 
FICTION
One weekend.

You have one weekend in these sprawling hills, this greenery that seeps with insect song. You have one weekend to walk down the worn roads that your infant feet have known. One weekend to figure out an adequate excuse for all those mistakes made, chained to a cubicle. You’re not even sure how someone messes up the task of copying numbers, but it’s come to it, and you have one weekend to formulate a strategy, to work your way around it.

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"Alaskan Mountains" by Angelica Elizabeth Ybarra

8/31/2022

 
VISUAL ART
Green mountains with lines of white snow against a hazy blue sky with rippling water and a grassy island in the foreground

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"Lighthouse" by Ann Tai

8/31/2022

 
POETRY
I’m sinking in the ebb and flow of murmurs and whispers
Of steady ships and somber sailors in the thick waves of darkness
The extra ticket in my breast pocket soaks in the thoughtful silence

I draw in a breath of dusty velvet and sweet nothings of strangers that weigh
Like a thousand rusted anchors, till I am submerged in midnight

The emptiness next to me mocks me
I scarcely heard your first note, the silver strand drawn from the strings of your violin
A beacon of melody stretching spider-silk thin across the wine-dark sea
Hauling me up from the depths until I can see you clearly, the luminous moon beyond my reach
I can’t help but wonder, “Are you like me, a ship lost at sea?”

A wave of hands draw back, an anticipation of applause,
like a taut bowstring, a swelling pause, a welling up in the throat,
until it crashes towards your feet, showering you in spray (and applause and such)
Your gentle smile radiates across the stage, as the auditorium was drenched in light

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"ne plus ultra" by Srishti Pandey

8/31/2022

 
POETRY
(ne plus ultra: here--not further beyond)
Things defined in contradiction:
Wisp of a girl drawn by bold, broad strokes 
Moonlight/ Anti-matter/ Guilt

What I believe/ Things that make me me? 
Is it because I’m sixteen?
Too far ahead in time/ Too far back 

To understand this delirious urge
To fight for love the way I want
To lock the world out, rock myself in the dark 

For my faltering inhibitions/ regaining control 
In a world shaken upside down
I fall/ But where do I stick? 

In the plateaus I was born
Hill ranges which skinned my knees 
The valley home/ The rising sea

Or the sky that beckons me,
What is because it is not,
A nightingale singing in the sunlight

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"The Canary" by Violet Lopaze

8/31/2022

 
POETRY
Steadfastly making my own decisions,
Taking women to heights deemed
unacceptable by society,
Brandishing the prowess in me being
restrained by those afraid of diversification.

Incessantly running ten steps behind men,
Eventually catching up only to be told my
ambitions are “senseless,”
Despite the fact that I am prospering in challenges my male counterparts
failed to fulfill.

Be more lady-like. Quit chattering.
Words rooted in me that only fuel the unbreakable determination I display,
with the aim of broadcasting my message to those women being
oppressed by those afraid to see them succeed.
Burdened with the hopes and dreams of young girls hopelessly waiting
for someone to show them they are worth more than the words created to
oppress and subdue.

Filled with never ending cleverness and smarts,
But nevertheless pining to be presented with the same opportunities as men.
Craving the same respect as the men around me who have never had to
endure the intense criticisms brought on by a society stuck in repressive ideologies.

I am no longer permitting myself to be held back and molded into what society
accepts as a “presentable” and “polite” woman,
But as a woman who ceaselessly fights for herself and the women around
her who are too terrified to rise against the stereotypes designed to bring us down.

Pushing through my hardships with the motivation to show women and girls:
the sky’s the limit.

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"zillow" by Caroline Schwartzbeck

8/31/2022

 
POETRY
do you ever scroll through house listings on zillow
to see if there's one that looks like a home?
do you mess around with the filters
altering your future reality as you peruse?
(this time you live in massachusetts instead of oregon,
or maybe this time you have two kids instead of just one.)
do you find joy in the search for the ideal dropdown menu settings
and your perfected placement on the click-and-drag map?

do you actually read the descriptions, the town name, the price range
or do you just click when you think one looks nice?
does it even look that nice, or does it just look like you?
(because you can already picture the flags you'll fly on the porch
and the warm yellow light radiating out from your window.)
do you find yourself scrolling through the photos,
empty bedrooms and basements galore?
do you squint through the blue light of the laptop screen
in an attempt to picture your own bed there?

when you see those hollow rooms,
do you remember you don't yet know their occupants
that you're betting on having someone you’re willing to move in with someday
and finding the perfect secluded home
and building the perfect seamless family?
do you have to remind yourself that no matter what
none of your daydreams will match up with whatever reality comes to be
and there are things you can't ever really imagine until they're true?
(after all, this home should be off the market in 2 weeks
it was never likely it would stay there for 10 years.)
do you force yourself to close the tab
then close your eyes with a pang?

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"Soul-ed?" by Morgyn Thomas

8/31/2022

 
FICTION
“Thank you for showing me around. It was quite… eye-opening.”

Alonzo sighed. This was the third realtor he’d shown the property to just this week. He eyed the shock of blonde hair he could see hanging over the arm of the couch. Henry, it seemed, was not missing out on the conversation.

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"Broken But Loved" by Baily Burkett

8/31/2022

 
VISUAL ART
Black and white photo of two broken hanging planters whose hooks form a heart from the perspective of the camera

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"Impulse" by Daniel Zhang

8/31/2022

 
POETRY
In school we learn coordinates
for every molecule
caged in labs. I’ve learned to whisper
the numbers to fifty-point tests,
paper plane messages tossed
on your desk: how fast
each is moving, in what direction,
where each will be
at any given moment.

I've endured your stares
pricking holes where I can't
see, smiling mouths that melt
when slapped. We get in fights
for numbers that slant: if I reached out
and brushed your accusatory finger
with my own, we would feel
fear trembling in one another,
skin tingling,
electrified by infinite pulsations
somewhere within us. Still,

I feel your winged spittle seething,
vanishing in the light.

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"Hidden Love" by Joshua Carrero

8/31/2022

 
POETRY
ecrets,
Kept in my brain along with my
Feelings,
Who to tell?
My worst enemy and best friend is within this skull of mine.
My fault I broke you because you were breaking me,
Sky falling, all of it, crashing on me.
Lovers once, turned into me becoming the tempter of a cheat.
Far away lands make the lovers sleep
Will they ever be,
Awoken?
The love kept in a far away dungeon with its keeper still watching
Waiting, just waiting,
For it to be
Free,
Lost in two different places
Still the fire burning the faces
Of their intimacy.

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"Lime and Bleach" by Freedom Strange

8/31/2022

 
POETRY
lime soaked with bleach
and your name written in sand but
the waves take it away before anyone sees
and your heart
spasming on the ground as you walk away.
it’s like this, darling.
the seeds of doubt you planted in my soul
have spiraled up and out and blossomed,
a riot of thorns and flowers.
my ribcage holds nothing but echinacea and acid.
it's like this, darling.
your breath scorched my lungs
until there was nothing left to breathe
but the blood and poison you gave me.
it's like this, darling.
we were never meant to be
it’s like this, darling.

Read More

"Recognize" by Hope Yang

8/31/2022

 
FLASH FICTION
It’s all blurred lines and shadowed angles when the light falls—smudges of color that have lost their edge. Faded vision is not easy. The swarming scrawls bleed like food-dyed drinks on a jacket sleeve, diluted, almost willfully, all those years ago. They no longer possess the clean punch. But now I reach, squint. Clarity winks to confusion and back again, pulsing the rhythm of mysteries shrinking from my revived grasp. I didn’t want to know, but now I do.

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"Black Fire Surrounds Me" by Joshua Carrero

8/31/2022

 
POETRY
Will it last?
That’s a thought that is new to me,
But it bothers me until I drop
It hurts, holding on to things that I’m afraid won’t last.
My mind entraps me with fears and lies,
It keeps shooting even after I’m dead,
I come back to life,
But it’s right there ready to fire again.
I grab onto things that give me joy,
Some of those things ran away though.
Maybe some of them died,
They were scared and got burned by the black fire that surrounds me.
I become numb sometimes to the things that make me happy,
They are outside of the fire that engulfs me,
Inside the dark forest with burnt branches on the ground,
I’m scared I’ll lose them to the darkness,
I’m scared they’ll get destroyed by the lies,
But the fire doesn’t care if I’m scared; it only cares that I die.
I barely see the sunrise through the small openings in the fire,
Through the thick black trees,
Which makes me begin to doubt,
Is there even a sunrise?

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"Sunbathing" by Angelica Elizabeth Ybarra

8/31/2022

 
VISUAL ART
White water lily surrounded by green leaves on dark water

Read More

"Please" by Erin Pyle

8/31/2022

 
VISUAL POETRY
Visual poem: Please, let me dream to-night, / of listening, to knowledge, true. / and never by ignorant thought / I think it was the end?

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    Issue Three
    Spring 2022

    Featuring work by 9  emerging writers from all over the world alongside the work of three students at Saint Francis University.

    Categories

    All
    Fiction
    Poetry
    Visual Art

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