so gather up the dust
that dwells below bed,
the real stuff of dreams; Continue reading Day-breaks by René Kooiker ’18
He howled against the stupidity of paper walls.
Letters never swelled with lips or chest,
Like a mind wholly mind, perching
Its gooey wings; but still its shit
Hit hard ground, hardly a ground
That was mine to understand,
Although inhuman, always of the world.
In this star-spangled, god fearing country the orange-clad are granted a final meal before they’re offed. Continue reading Cherry Pie by Gabby Edzie ’17
As I grow older, I appreciate villainy more and more. I appreciate it not only because superheroes bore me (Superman=Jesus), but because doing good is its own reward. The motivation for doing bad things is fundamentally more interesting. Continue reading The Jerry Springer Show (Review by Mapate Diop ’16)
They told me to Celebrate William Shakespeare’s birthday by eating dessert before dinner! I’m confused. What could Shakespeare possibly have to do with breaking the dinnertime rules that my poor hardworking mother drilled into my head? I can hardly begin to consider how Ma would feel—they’re already telling me to Come for the food and stay for the discussion! Continue reading Nausea by Siraj Sindhu ’17
Though I’d like to say I’m creative when it comes to where I jog, this isn’t the case. Wherever I run, I stick to a few favorite paths. I have three in my hometown, one at my grandparents’ in Philadelphia, and four in Amherst. Known to most runners are the Norwottuck Rail Trail, the Emily Dickinson Trail, and the UMass Loop. These are routes one, two, and three for me. Number four on my list—and number one in my heart—is Main Street.
“Feminism is cancer. Thank you very much.” With those words, Milo Yiannopoulos sat back down in his chair, not thirty seconds after walking to the podium and beginning the talk. Continue reading The Sickening by Sam Wohlforth ’17
We sat on the couch in front of the TV, in our Friday night spots. Lazy six’o’clock pink leaked in through white condo slits. Beautiful, but at the wrong angle—blinding. Continue reading Let’s Get Married by Flavia Martinez ’18
As I am falling asleep in my room back home, I occasionally hear the wolves howling on the other side of our lake. I know these mournful cries belong to the wolves because, unlike coyotes, their notes are sustained across a single legato wail.