break ups / River Nocturne / Haiku / by Connor Hubeny

break ups


the next time

you feel

like counting worms

on your own time,

remember that


the dolomites


and the golden gate

bridge was build


by men.


‘cause the way

I see it,

life’s better worth


on the high side

of rhododendrons.


River Nocturne


We ran through the woods,

past the phlox and forsythia,

to the edge of lingering water.

The river ran black and bottomless

in the crystalline night.

The smell of azalea blossoms

drugged us, my wife and I,

and the south wind filled our shirts

with the warm air of summer.

I saw her for the first time

again, her figured traced by starlight.

She looked at me as if I were

a dream, in a film of rising fog.

Thunder shook the trees filled with dark,

and rain fell evenly on our shoulders,

then down our backs. The cloudbursts

decanted us. United, we dipped

beneath the steam. We told ourselves,

later on, that we would do anything

to come back here someday.

To be so happy again.




What’s better than a meal

so good that no one talks.

You sit, and you eat.


Connor Hubeny is a graduating senior at Marymount Manhattan College where he studies Communication Arts. He is an editor of his school's literary magazine, The Marymount Review, and a self-described cinephile.