Frigid, Icy Nights

Chatting Faces of six continents, in the highline of the 7 line

Crowded, moving rivers along the conduits of the underground

Running, yelling, begging faces

Rolex, Suits, Prada, Nike

Miles wind the mechanics of my feet,

counters and clocks to tally the movement of my toes.

I pace alongside psychiatrists and counselors on cracked cement

as their words like a foreign language

Look outside the window,

The pine tree with a million needles,

Needles that glisten at their tips,

With a million beads of raindrops,

Editor's note: Point Cabrillo Lighthouse is Hardik Kothare's second place winning entry into the Synapse Storytelling Contest, photography category.

The fog rolls in an out

The tides ebb and flow

Insectum is the second place winner in the Synapse Storytelling Contest's creative writing category. Comments from Synapse editor in chief and category judge Ariane Panzer: This poem had a consistent and very original theme.

Do you have a secret talent — a skill you’ve been dying to show off, but wouldn’t necessarily quit your day job for? Now is your chance to flaunt those peacock feathers.

The San Francisco Opera recently added their voice to the many speaking out against the prejudice and bigotry rife within our country.

My feet pound a solemn heartbeat

Each step a heavy smear on the ground

Pulling myself down the orange hill

Painted by the lamps lurching above

Dandelions emitting a fuzzy hum into the still air

It is 4 a.m. in San Francisco.

Deep night overwhelms the emptiness.

I would like to stay in this dark forever.

I feel safe here —

no one knows my skin,

no one knows my religion,