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A Magpie’s Solo

Sifting through trinkets of brass and yellow,

Rummages the Magpie through bits of metal. 

One ring, it picks, dresses up well with more decorum

Than the Magpie has to offer in person. 

He wanders about, picking wants over needs

And rejoices in the collection of marvelous shiny things!

No hesitancy is required for desire.


He stretches his claws to take and admire

The wonderous tidbits of fancy and wire. 

A swift pluck pockets an illustrious coin 

As his bosom fattens with envy to join

The remnants of greed mixed by mire

That coddles itself to placate desire. 

He flies out, once again, to scope and compare.


His claws feel heavy with fantasy and ware—

This bird ends up sinking and going nowhere. 

He is left with a choice to sink or swim, 

Burdened by his effortless choices on a whim.

It is getting dark when he is ready.

The wares were dropped and he no longer feels heavy.

He continues home to reassess his pity




is a fourth-year student in the English B.A./English Education Ed.M. program (UB Teach). They would like to dedicate a portion of my biography to Dana Fang, a kind and thoughtful classmate to have who is currently working towards their Ph.D. in the English Department, for introducing me to the term “Neo Formalism.” In their free time, I enjoy looking at birds and sitting surrounded by nature. 

A Caw to Arms

I, too, was like the Spotted Gecko, 

Crawling with all my might

As I refrained from letting go 

And losing all my sight. 


The bare branches carved pathways

Emitting grains of sand

Funneling channels through the maze

Of the hourglass’ band.


As I recall the countless days

Of lounging in the Sun,

I feel a bird upon my shoulder glaze

Each and every-one. 


“Little bird,” I chant in honor

To its very presence.

What a delightful martyr

Has come to visit with illuminance! 


One caw, it calls—

Filling all the fun into my wiry lungs.

As it deposits countless journals

Of knowledge by the melody that it has sung.

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