Literar y Magazine

By: Ashlie Flanagan

Contents:
Forced Poetry….…pg.2
Poem……………..pg. 3
Meet the Author.…pg.4

Compass of the Found have to face the reality that went

undetected. But that last impres-
Eyes blossom as your fingers flip
sion, that stays with you, will
to that final page. Hesitant as you
make you want to flip to the be-
start to read each sentence as if
ginning and start reading all over.
the words will vanish soon
But the thing about that last
thereafter. As you slowly start to
Contact Info page is that although you might
Phone: 610-667-8889 feel that churning; churning with-
read it over and over, you will
Email: atflanag@asu.edu in, that feels as though you could
remember is the initial experi-
be sick from the anxiety of
ence: when each word made you
reaching that final sentence. The
feel as though a part of your
sentence that will mean it's all
brokenness was made amend
over. That when you shut this
with each syllable.
book for the final time you will
Continued on pg. 2
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 This, this enigmatic remedy is what inspired me to become a writer.
So I can let my words guide today’s youth into reverie. Because so
many of us are on cruise control, but by no means are we lethargic.
We are just afraid to uncover the truth behind the things we are told
as children, things to make the world not seem so harsh. But that un-
bearable truth? Under the smoldering rubble to which the spark kin-
dles, that is where our reverie lies. This flame is the compass, the
compass that guides me and others that choose to make a change for
the better. To insure that our generation might be known as the "Lost
Generation", but slowly we're opening each others eyes. And slowly
we're being found.

Forced Poetry
Echoing tapping of keys
Blinking black line
Barren page of white
Stagnant fingers
Eyelids drooping
SNAP
An idea?
No
The computer shut off.

2
 Promise You’ll Write companying us.
Home? Being the sound of deli-
We sit. cate fingers stroking a
The mist of emotions. piano.
Stir into a chilled cocktail. No sarcastic remarks left.

But us? We look to the vastly

We sit in silence. moving signs as they
Pretending the void isn’t pass us.
sitting in the backseat. Wanting to hold onto the
As if it isn’t sucking in memories.
the oxygen. Grasp them in our palm.
Ignoring our equally tick- Like they’re tangible.
ing conscious
As if we can breath.
We sit in this moment.
With the only thing ac-

3
 I’m Ashlie Flanagan current journalism major at Arizona State
University. I spend most of my time refreshing my Instagram
& eating foods with mass amounts of cheese in it. Hope you
enjoyed reading a piece of myself!