A students' magazine for mental health advocacy




With the weather clearly gone

off its meds, traded half-hours

of snow squall, then sunshine,

snow again. It's hard enough


when crazy is just in my head.

I don't need it quick-translated

into Barometer. I say, I feel it

in my bones. What I mean is


it hurts. This is a loud world,

you feel it through the walls

where I live, which is inside

my head. It is loud, then snow


is falling in my head, covering

sound the way snowfall does,

cooling off raging feedback

& giving me time to breathe


letting night fall in my head.

Shush of snow brings sleep

where the absence of things

is very much the whole point.



Ryk McIntyre has been a legendary presence on the New England poetry scene for decades. Which is to say, he is rarely photographed and not everyone is convinced he really exists. He has toured extensively, and been published in various journals, anthologies and magazines. He doesn’t photograph well and avoids direct sunlight as much as possible.