By SARAH WU
I learned to be wrapped from a young age. Underneath a Christmas tree, I sat below their pine bottoms. Dangling lights brushed my forehead. Taught how presents should be dressed in lovely colors. Taught to be an object, paper wrapping hiding the curve of the natural body within…Continue Reading Christmas Gift
Tag: Sarah Wu
Fall 2024
By MEL ARTHUR, SARAH WU, and GABBY AVENA The theme of Snack Time feels like a theme that needs to be shouted at the top of one’s lungs. Imagine if we all collectively went: SNACK TIME! SNACK TIME! SNACK TIME! over and over again, how disruptive that may seem but also how joyous. I like…Continue Reading Fall 2024
Spring 2024
By MEL ARTHUR, SARAH WU, and GABBY AVENA Mel Arthur:Once the theme of Thing Theory was suggested, I could hear everyone’s (including myself) mind go blank. The collective question of what even is Thing Theory permeated almost every meeting. Sarah even asked me to do a mock Q&A where I attempted, using my muse, Toni…Continue Reading Spring 2024
Fools Taking Root
JORGE RODRIGUEZ JR.
Well, I figured I shouldn’t go alone. The woods grow too thick out past the first few miles. After them woods, it’s real tranquil. The sky grows arid, the world seems still out there. A fire goes nice, but too much fire runs the real big holes dry. If you look in the right spots, you can still find ones that light. Once it lights, it’s good for a night or two. That’s why we oughta head out early. …Continue Reading Fools Taking Root
there was a door that i knew
SARAH WU
and i knew it intimately, the wooden door that sat in front of my room. it was a friendly presence, solid, and comforting. it held up the drooping ceiling of the white, caving plaster, and kept the little mice in the kitchen out of my bed. …Continue Reading there was a door that i knew
Fall 2023
By SARAH WU, MEL ARTHUR, and GABBY AVENA Mel Arthur:Rot, in simultaneous existence with crumble, disintegrate, stain, decompose, corrupt, sink, worsen, wither, descend, fester, and spoil. To inhabit the space of terrible beauty where the world and the bodies that exist within it circle around what has been made absent. Rotted as an attempt to…Continue Reading Fall 2023
Falling Awake
SARAH WU
Waking up is like falling down a rollercoaster. In the crowded amusement park, this is what I tell my brother and mother and father. …Continue Reading Falling Awake
Spring 2023
By SARAH WU, MEL ARTHUR, and GABBY AVENA Mel Arthur:I advocated for this theme within small circles of conversation partly because I know what it is like to feel reverence so profoundly, it becomes part of everyday existence. In reverence lies the essence of awe, of wonder, and as the dictionary adds, of respect. But…Continue Reading Spring 2023
How to Teach Your Younger Brother How to Fly
SARAH WU
You scream the first time you fly. This is only okay if you practice in your own room. You start from the top of your dresser and jump. That way, only the walls stare at you as you bloody your knee…Continue Reading How to Teach Your Younger Brother How to Fly
Moth to a Burning Flame
SARAH WU
On the same bridge where my brother threatened to cast his body into the river, you tell me: “Wouldn’t it be fun to jump?” We sit together on the railing. Your eyes are the same color as the sky…Continue Reading Moth to a Burning Flame
my brother gets his college admissions letter
SARAH WU
On the day my brother gets his college admissions, he picks his envelope up ever so gently, drags a finger across the edge of the flap, and peels back the white like he would peel back the skin of a banana. …Continue Reading my brother gets his college admissions letter
Strangers
SARAH WU
I see you on the bus first. Or maybe, it’s you who senses me, turning around just enough for our eyes to meet. Somehow, past the friend I am talking to, past the earbuds pressed tightly against your ears, our eyes lock. You are skinnier than I remember. Age has sharpened your cheekbones, stolen the roundness from your cheeks. The nest of brown pine needles on your head has softened, curling gently at the tips. It is hard to imagine them as the same rat hair your mom used to comb through, her fingers gently untangling the knots, the burrs in your curls….Continue Reading Strangers