Student Poetry

This weekend

Rebecca White

I. When I wake in the morning the pieces that I remember best are your face and your hands. At...


Urvashi Bahuguna

The handle on your tea cup is painted blue & tinted green by falling light, your two fingers loop through...

Friday, Late

Jo Surzyn

To call it a shoal would be overstated – it was really only two or three glints of light across...


Marena Lear

Days pass like drops in a naked eye; the gray pestle-grind of light on wet boards where he paces, blind...


Katie Swinson

He told me his mother took him to visit cathedrals when he was small. He talked about the mineral coldness...


A J Hodson

For Terence Carter I. The Method Actor The talent in his liver was late to bloom. Before the script could...

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