Polyphony H.S. Vol. VIII: An International Student-Run Literary Magazine For High School Writers and Editors

By High School Writers and Editors

Polyphony H.S. is a collection of poetry, fiction, and literary non-fiction written and edited by high school students. Based in Evanston, Illinois, Polyphony H.S. has an editorial board of over 100 students from across the globe that provide extensive and thoughtful feedback on every piece submitted. Our work is based on the belief that the development of the creative voice depends upon close, careful, and compassionate attention. Helping young editors become proficient at providing thoughtful and informed attention to the work of their peers is essential to our mission. We believe this important exchange between young writers and editors provides each with a better understanding of craft, of the writing process, and of the value of putting words to their own lives while preparing them for participation in the broader literary community. To find out more, visit us at www.polyphonyhs.com.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Polyphony H.S.
• Release date: Aug 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9780989325219

High School Writers and Editors

Our contributors are high school student writers from around the world. All submissions receive editorial feedback from an international panel of over 150 high school editors.

Book preview

Table of Contents

On Graduating from Polyphony H.S Letter from a Four-Year Submitter, – Emily Cutler

Made Whole: On the Nature of Poetry, Mathematics, and How to Avoid Good-Byes – Clara Fannjiang

Announcing: 2010 Claudia Ann Seaman Awards for Young Writers

About the Claudia Ann Seaman Awards

About our Cover

About Us

Mission Belief

On Mutualism: The Writer and Editor at Polyphony H.S. – Hedy Gutfreund

Defying Convention: The Character of vol VIII – Oly Huzenis

Epigraph, Internal Notes from a few submitters

Clara Fannjiang

Bird Under the Lamppost

Raven Mathewes

Deep Sea Gigantism

Rocio Guenther

Coconuts

Emma Arett

Lady Sing the Bruise

Madelyne Xiao

Anachronism

Margaret Sullivan

Retreat, 2007

Anjie Liu

Jackson Pollock

Lilian Kong

Amerika

Lylla Younes

Billy

Stephanie Guo

Cecilia Had a Brightness

Friday in the Speakeasy

The Offering

John Richards

Red Line

Anna Blech

Sonnet in a Stuffy Room

Rachel Stone

Twenty-four

Firefly

Deborah Malamud

A Dead Shirt

Dylan Combs

Aurals

Emily Cutler

Visiting Anna

Jonah Haven

Belonging

The Silence that Breathing Takes

Peter LaBerge

Carlisle Blue

For the Fire

Sailboat

Hannah Toke

Fleeting

Roots

Lila Thulin

Percussive

Honey & Vinegar

Julia Tompkins

When it Got Cold Out

Lillian Fishman

How to Keep Your Sister’s Secret

Fresh

The Farm

Caroline Hamilton

Wilted Grass and Interstate Lines

In the Winter

Rose Miles

Sulfur Dreams

Season of Infertile Seeds

Anna Feldman

This is Not a Catharsis

Joanne Koong

For the Next Woman You Meet

How to Read Neruda When Heartbroken on a Friday Night

Lya Ferreyra

The Sanguine Sovereign

Tina Zhu

Quiet is Her Favorite Fix

Raven Hogue

Yazoo City

Michelle Jia

Peter Visits the Kensington Gardens

ןָדרַמ (or Rebellious)

Kathleen Cole

Running of the Children

On the Island

While We Wait for Old Age

Phoebe Goldenberg

Red Cowboy Boots

Brittany Newell

I Keep You Alive in My Dreams

Foreplay

She Combs My Gnarled Hair in Record Time

Traces

Olivia Scheyer

Dreamland Askew

Maggy Liu

The Story

Kevin Emery

American Soft Drink

Jordan Kincaid

For Once, Will You Respect Me

Gabriella Gonzales

Parade Ground

Henry Anker

California Railroad Escape

Anthony Otten

Felicity Burning

Jane Ligon

Colorado

Tom Costello

Platonic Rigidity

Rooftop

Jules Ray

In Which I Postulate

Searching Through the Lost and Found at the 21st Street Pool Hall

Maia Silber

Visiting Day

Anran Yu

Heartprison

Gabe Lunn

Bury Me with a Shot of Espresso

Rebecca Greenberg

The Christening

Kathleen Maris

Winter

Jack Nachmanovitch

300 Dead Blackbirds

Hayun Cho

Flight

Ghost Song

Katia Diamond

Come Sunday

Upasna Saha

Even You can’t See the Universe, Sweetheart

Sera Park

Room 201

The Report on Apricots

Laura Wanamaker

Ovule

Summer 2011: Images

Contributors’ Bios

Editorial Staff

Editorial Pipeline

On Graduating from Polyphony H.S.: Letter from a Four-Year Submitter

I have had a passion for creative writing ever since I was a little girl. I have always loved words, and throughout my life their power has never ceased to amaze me. From the American Girl books and the Harry Potter series to Kathryn Stockett’s The Help and Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll’s House, literature has given me characters to sympathize with and look up to, new ways to view the world, and things to stand up for and believe in. The world of books has always been an important part of my life, and one of my goals in life is to contribute to that world as a writer.

That’s why, when I first read through a copy of Polyphony H.S. at a friend’s house during my freshman year of high school, I knew I wanted to get involved. I had previously read some journals including one or two works by young adults each issue, but never before had I seen a literary magazine featuring quality writing by only high school students. I remember feeling shocked and delighted: here, in this magazine, were authors my own age who were creating strong characters, intricate plots, and poetic language – authors my own age whose writing moved me and would no doubt move many others. Polyphony H.S. gave me the chance to read works that would contribute to the world in amazing ways.

But I still hadn’t even touched upon the best parts of Polyphony H.S. After researching the submission guidelines and revising some of my work, I submitted a short story and a poem. After a few months, I received the much-anticipated response email, opening it as my stomach flipped inside me. Not having heard much about Polyphony H.S.’s review process, I expected either an acceptance letter or a form rejection letter. So when I saw the word regret, I thought I was finished reading the email. I bit my lip, trying to avert the same shaky lethargy every writer is so familiar with that comes after the word regret.

It was only by chance that I scrolled down in the email. When I did, I became truly grateful for a magazine like Polyphony H.S. Because below the rejection letter was the most encouraging, thoughtful advice I had ever received as a writer. I discovered that writers and editors my own age had dedicated their time to reviewing and discussing my piece, and recording their feedback so that I could use it to improve my writing. I was overwhelmed by the amount of thought put into their comments, but at the same time, when I finished reading them, I had learned more about my writing than I could ever have imagined. The comments provided me with tangible skills I could use to revise those pieces, and more importantly, to improve all my future writings – invaluable skills such as using concrete images, thinking through line breaks to create more flow, and making sure the title is the correct one for the piece. After receiving the emails from Polyphony H.S., I felt, more than ever, a part of a community of high school writers and editors. Never again would I consider Polyphony H.S.’s declining letters rejection letters. The comments both strengthened my goal to contribute to the world as a writer and reaffirmed my desire to improve my craft. And they made me want to submit again.

By now, as a recent graduate of high school, I have had the honor of appearing in Polyphony H.S. twice, with another piece accepted in this issue. Sometimes I look back at the magazine and think, Really? My work published alongside Alison Marqusee’s English, a beautiful poem that captivates not only our language but also our culture? My work published alongside Joanna Shaw’s Date a Girl Who Reads, a piece not only guaranteed to make all writers happy but also one that quenches our thirst for truly poetic language? My work published alongside Kate Bell’s My Name is Cassie, and I Will Tell You All You Need to Know About High School, a piece that masters the art of dark comedy?

I am proud and honored to be a contributor of Polyphony H.S. As a graduate of a high school that does not have a creative writing program, I consider Polyphony H.S. to have been a major learning source throughout all four years.

Next year, I plan to attend the University of Pennsylvania, where I will major in creative writing. I will miss Polyphony H.S. and wish to thank all writers and editors involved for their dedication. Polyphony H.S. has encouraged my passion for writing, strengthened my skills, and made me proud to be a writer.

Emily Cutler

Made Whole: On the Nature of Poetry, Mathematics, and How to Avoid Good-Byes

I’ve been scared of writing this letter since January. It was the day after New Year’s, and I’d just ditched dinner to finish a deliciously complex in-house revision when my mom came in and asked how many more times I’d ditch dinner to finish a deliciously complex in-house revision. And I realized, not very many. Polyphony H.S. has given me years to study and marvel over the art of pinning thought to paper, but now I find myself tethered to the exhausted expression that I’m at a loss for words. How am I supposed to say what all this has meant?

I wasn’t exactly destined to be a poet. My dad is a mathematics professor; my mom does statistical analysis for a living. They met in abstract algebra class in college. As far as familial heritage goes, tinkering with poetry – like falling in love with Debora Greger’s Eve in the Fall in the ninth grade and spending my spare time lamely trying to reproduce its luminosity – was sort of like heresy. I didn’t know it then, but editing for Polyphony H.S. was to become the reason my bipolar mind could live with itself, assembling and unraveling both literary and mathematical knots in the same frame of thought. In fact, editing no less than demanded that I do so. Why? Take any good poem, bite into it, and you’ll feel the crunch of a matured body torn in two, the crunch of bones. A real poem has no meat, no fat to get in the way. No loose variables in the equation. Only bones, chiseled and whittled and locked together, hinges tight, curves gleaming, angles set into a delicate balance. Enjambing just a hair too late, or mislabeling an apricot as rosy instead of roseate – that’s all it takes to topple a poem. That’s all it takes to destroy the logic of a proof. What Polyphony H.S. taught me, particularly as an in-house editor, was that the lure of creating an untamed, unbounded line of verse is often more a beguiling trap than a ticket to freedom: every gesture, every slightest swaying of the poet’s mind, whether voluntary or not, is stripped naked for the world to see. That demands an almost painful degree of sensitivity on the editor’s part. What comforted me as I learned the ropes, though, was the similarity such a mindset held to a mathematician’s – probing a proof or solution for the finest leaks in logic, for those flitting moments when the mind chases intuition over rigor and the truth of a theorem evaporates, unnoticed. Things I’d inhaled and exhaled my whole childhood. My calculus teacher once told me that Euler’s formula, considered one of the most gorgeous equations in all of mathematics, could draw blood. Over the years that same image became my creed for editing a poem – test your finger against the edge of any line, and it should be keen enough to split skin. It turned out that the deepest instincts of poetry and mathematics were, to my happy surprise, one and the same: to pursue a statement to its purest form, no more and no less. In the end, my years editing at Polyphony gave me more than ever promised. They put together my two halves. They reconciled me to myself. That, beyond all else, is what I’m most grateful for.

Clara Fannjiang, Outgoing co-Editor-in-Chief

Special shout-out to contributors Cara Dorris (Vol. VI, VII) and Erica Swanson (Vol. VI, VII), who blew my brains apart every time; Audrey Gidman (Vol. VII), who renewed my faith in prose poetry; and Jessica Renfrew (Vol. VI), Jackson Rollings (Vol. VI), Francesca Allegra (Vol. VII), Madeleine Wattenbarger (Vol. VII), Anthony Otten (Vol. VII, VIII), Sera Park (Vol. VIII), and every other author who shamelessly redefined what I believed writing could do and could be.

Announcing the Winners of the 2012 Claudia Ann Seaman Awards for Young Writers

Poetry Winner

Danny Rothschild, Interlochen Arts Academy, Interlochen, Michigan for Under the Light of a Lamppost

Poetry Judge Laura Van Prooyen

Laura Van Prooyen, the author of Inkblot and Altar (Pecan Grove Press 2006), has work forthcoming in The American Poetry Review, Boston Review, and the tenth anniversary anthology: Best of 32 Poems. She is a recipient of grants from the American Association of University Women and the Barbara Deming Memorial Fund, and also has been awarded a Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg