Weekly Skylights: The Tripod Looks to the Clouds (Oct. 20)

3 min read

Joey Cifelli ’23

A&E Editor

Do you, too, feel autumn’s pull? I love this season, my personal favorite of the four. The leaves changing is always pleasant, as are the festivities. I’m always game for a harvest festival or some, you know, other fall gathering. All Saints’ Day, why not. I’m not big on Halloween but that’s mainly due to the gore. I’m as much a fan of a good scare or creepy tale as the next person. And that brings me to my favorite thing about fall, which isn’t any one thing in particular. It’s the twinge of winter in the air you get sometimes, or the smell of leaves composting in a carpet on the ground. The reminder that, in a sense, death is almost home. There’s an ominous, foreboding undercurrent running throughout fall, and as backwards as it sounds I find that feeling pumps a lot of energy into the season. But no matter the reason, I hope you have been enjoying your fall so far, and I wish you the best of the best. 8.8/10.

The windchimes toll midnight as you walk along the wet cobble street. Your breath puffs visibly in the weak glow of the streetlights that flicker like laughter. Light rain patters against your overcoat, making it slick. But you don’t feel slick. You feel sick. They say, in the city, that the darkness isn’t so much an absence of light as it is a predator of it. It’s a strange saying, but you get what they mean. The alleyways are black as pitch and empty, yet the hairs on the back of your neck still stick up like porcupine quills. You can sense their presence, the building sized blocks of darkness waiting to snatch you off the street and snuff you out. If you can make it to the end of the street, well, you’re almost home. It’s not too far. To get there, however, you’ll need to stay in the light. And just like that, the bulbs wink out. 9.2/10.

The color at the end of days,

the color behind the curtain is


A cat’s eye marble of one,

a feline cyclops twisted

into itself, folded over itself,

pressed against itself,

a flat blue film made of film

made of film.

Every end is the same,

like furthest, like pinprick,

the color at the end of days

is blue. 8.2/10.

Big thanks to my Mom who took this gorgeous photo and let me put it here for you to see. Thanks Mom! Imagine some kind of giant lizard uprooted a volcano and shook out its contents onto a thick layer of wet clouds. It would look just like this. The lava slowly melts and mixes itself into the moist, cottony fibers, radiating and shifting light like blistering coals. Think of the warm smacking sound that would make. The fizzes and pops and gaseous ejections, eventually cooling into a sleepy, yawning night. Goodnight, everyone. 8.6/10.


Brendan W. Clark '21 is the current Editor-in-Chief of the Trinity Tripod, Trinity College's student newspaper.

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