The First National Edition of The Tributary
We welcome you to the first ever national edition of The Tributary. Authors and poets from all over the country allowed us to weave together their works into an iridescent tapestry. It is one that we here at The Tributary are proud to present to you. From the forests of Vermont to the Valleys of…
Tributary 2022
It is finally here! Submissions like rain mixed into a puddle, dripped into a stream, formed this year’s issue of Lycoming College’s Tributary. Rather than parse that expansive literary-sky, find your favorite (or soon-to-be-favorites) here in our collection of works. We thank you for your patronage and urge you to support our journal and future…
Red Summer
Sarah Lanphear There’s an etching in the southern magnolia on the corner of Fourth and Mae, a scar hidden by flowers, sticks, and leaves on a branch just low enough, just within reach. The cut buried by men who know how to hide when they need to, who know to work by night. White hoods…
Residuum
Rylee Delaney Desolation follows a path of pickle jars past teacup vistas of watercolor clarity, through rum bottle forests, empty, to one too many towels, soiled and vacant, again.
I am
Rylee Delaney They, myself not excluded, thought: but surely I am None, not one are the “other” The hurricanes, the earthquakes, several feet from the other All lusting, a storming desire to be the “other” Together, a collective petrified, shy, shying from the other Knowing, it’s possible, impossible, to be…
The Riverwalk
Sohini Mukherjee As the sun set by the Susquehanna riverwalk, the sky took a shade of orange, lively yet soul-soothing. The hills, newly clad in emerald, ripple like the sun rays on my caramel skin, whistling as I walk. The river’s wind pushes into my brown hair, sends me into a labyrinth of my fondest…
Nightmares
August Wampole I had a nightmare. (Not unusual, but it left me in a haze) God gave me His power, said He lost care For humanity. Left me in a daze And then he was gone. And I was alone with the world.
Who’s The Bastard Now?
Caleb Hipple 1. A Hippie Fucks My Mom, 2000 “Tune in, Turn on and Drop out” (his favorite quote on Facebook) Robbie, my absent creator, holds a breath— he imagines instead her lover’s puffed chest, quakes knowingly, blows on plump dandelions, unsheathes in her stretching garden. Hidden, a snake slides from…
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