Original Old English: Moððe word fræt. Me þæt þuhte wrætlicu wyrd, þa ic þæt wundor gefrægn, þæt se wyrm forswealg wera gied sumes, þeof in…

The Oldest College Literary Magazine in the Nation
Original Old English: Moððe word fræt. Me þæt þuhte wrætlicu wyrd, þa ic þæt wundor gefrægn, þæt se wyrm forswealg wera gied sumes, þeof in…
Early in this evil year comes autumn. I walk in the fields at night, the cold wind at my hat, the rain rattles…And you? And…
Watcher – this, your face pink-cheeked with abandon. This your hidden, thrumming hand. This, your wine-shadowed longing draped over his shoulders, laid flush against the…
We must not speak now of etherized spread- eagle evenings fading skin histories from violent to -et to rose-risen blush. We must not rush now…
Ed owns the road. I don’t. And he does the hard work. You can tell that by the cracks in his hands. He looks…
San Francisco (1956) woman, child of narcotic sleep, woman, two hands holding the slippery, deserter sea. she’s going to another horizon, she’s leaving; it’s…
I am nine miles above you and falling fast once iron groans and peels away from me and strapped to this rock I am…