2017 Eclipse experiences
Summers here like to roll on in a muggy torpor, the pulsating heat beating down in the same war drum cry every day, always the same, but somehow still penetrating the faux facades always donned, mirroring all these insipid, cyclic weeks, as if the sweltering humidity had stripped lives bare of their passion, withered aside to leave a vapid void where all the once-coveted idealism proved to be an incorrigible imbecile's folly, while time pushes brusquely forwards to the promise of hollow tomorrows; then, against the garish, choking ceiling of a sky, Luna floats in, the luminescence of her modest orb lackluster next to the all-consuming solar inferno, but with dignity, with dauntless divinity, she glides in front of the blinding white nuisance of the sun; the temperature dwindles from furnace fanaticism to balmy bliss, swathing the world in a soft grayness, a nostalgic filter that cools volcanic tempers and acidic anxieties, and for a moment it seems that not all soul is lost to the exigence that demands celerity but elicits sluggishness, that in the profound perpetuity of one occasion the celestial eclipse has cast its forgiving shadows onto the transient mortals below , so that at last, perhaps, they may have a moment to relax.
-Carrie Wang
e.c.l.i.p.s.e
The moon- (e) egotistical as I- erases every edge of every end of you: my sun who (c) cuts crinkles into cataracts because of the careless capturing of character, and, i, who covers the cascading cries of your (l) light, limiting the luminosity of your long, leaden limbs lingering, littering around your Luna, loving at my lisping lungs; (i) i, initially invested in my ignorance of intimacy’s intellect and illusions, (p)... pauses… pretends…. that pools of pale blues just possibly prove that perfect pre-paid plans have purpose that pretty doesn't just plummet from pursed lips for make-pretend that (s) somehow, somewhere selfishness stops seducing my solemn serenity that I salvage from your smiles- sunshine that I subject to servitude- solar (e) eclipses that encompasses our everything, our everyone, our everywhere, our nevertheless emptiness.
-Abbi Page
Strength seeped from the day’s light, not the seeping of power that signaled night – the day still cradled its control despite its source of power draining before it – a false sense of impending dusk appeared, with it, chirps erupting from the surrounding vegetation as insects were lured into calling into the night that wouldn’t appear; in night’s place came the eclipse, the moon crawling across the sun until only a speck of orange was left in the sky – travelling fast enough to only bewitch our eyes for minutes before the phenomenon ended until another year in the waiting.
-Peter Irwin
We moved on quick feet, pushing through the crowd; the cold, artificial air blowing through the vents gives way to a burst of warm, sticky summer air- a welcome feeling not within itself but within the context of the stale, manufactured type that entered our lungs throughout the day while we were learning, living- but we feel more alive as we erupt through the doors, a buzzing excitement rippling through the lot as darkness envelops us, and, turning, we see it within the jet black veiling our vision: a slash in the sky, a fiery sliver, as though the moon were engulfed in flames, and, with bated breath, we take in the marvel before us, the roar of the air conditioner lulling us into an awed silence.
-Jordan Scavo
-Carrie Wang
e.c.l.i.p.s.e
The moon- (e) egotistical as I- erases every edge of every end of you: my sun who (c) cuts crinkles into cataracts because of the careless capturing of character, and, i, who covers the cascading cries of your (l) light, limiting the luminosity of your long, leaden limbs lingering, littering around your Luna, loving at my lisping lungs; (i) i, initially invested in my ignorance of intimacy’s intellect and illusions, (p)... pauses… pretends…. that pools of pale blues just possibly prove that perfect pre-paid plans have purpose that pretty doesn't just plummet from pursed lips for make-pretend that (s) somehow, somewhere selfishness stops seducing my solemn serenity that I salvage from your smiles- sunshine that I subject to servitude- solar (e) eclipses that encompasses our everything, our everyone, our everywhere, our nevertheless emptiness.
-Abbi Page
Strength seeped from the day’s light, not the seeping of power that signaled night – the day still cradled its control despite its source of power draining before it – a false sense of impending dusk appeared, with it, chirps erupting from the surrounding vegetation as insects were lured into calling into the night that wouldn’t appear; in night’s place came the eclipse, the moon crawling across the sun until only a speck of orange was left in the sky – travelling fast enough to only bewitch our eyes for minutes before the phenomenon ended until another year in the waiting.
-Peter Irwin
We moved on quick feet, pushing through the crowd; the cold, artificial air blowing through the vents gives way to a burst of warm, sticky summer air- a welcome feeling not within itself but within the context of the stale, manufactured type that entered our lungs throughout the day while we were learning, living- but we feel more alive as we erupt through the doors, a buzzing excitement rippling through the lot as darkness envelops us, and, turning, we see it within the jet black veiling our vision: a slash in the sky, a fiery sliver, as though the moon were engulfed in flames, and, with bated breath, we take in the marvel before us, the roar of the air conditioner lulling us into an awed silence.
-Jordan Scavo