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  • Poetry > Limerick
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    Nutella is ever so tasty except when it's used as a baste-y. The absolute most disgusting of roasts is cooked when Nutell-ers are hasty....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    slash! grab him and sink him beneath razor tooth make him s c r e a m they are so slowly turning oh pain pain misery what is wrong with this red red red red red red red pound pound pound lub-dub-dub dub-pound crash, pull back, r...
  • College
    Guide > College Articles
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    Granted, my 36 does look very neat on paper. When I first see it, I feel a sense of harmony, like when you manage to draw a circle without any edges. After all, it is a perfect score. And yet, there are days when I wish it wasn’t a 36. Why not take a nice round 24? Because as wonderful and perfect...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    Face made of cold wax, sad eyes painted by fools who never saw their crime. They vandalized a work of heart, beating, warm and bleeding....
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    The caramel-coated leaves scrambled down the broken sidewalks, like suburban tumbleweeds. On occasion, a low-flying zephyr would swoop down and snatch one up, carrying it back up into the sky until it was caught in the sinuous branches of one of the old, barren maples that stood nearby. The trees we...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    At 3:29 AM, Alek Therien shared a story: there’s a girl in the computer- she always talks about hate, ex-boyfriends, cutting, and weird stuff like that. and asks people to lms for a truth is. don’t really know what her problem is, or even her name. there’s a guy in the c...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    beneath towers of stone and canyons of glass, the train rumbles down to pierce the darkness under the earth. all shapes of people sitting apart together- like an awkward jigsaw with spaces left between its pieces. the she sits. there i sit. black hair is piled up behind her head, ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    what’s music good for? music is good for rainy days and sunny days. spring mornings and summer evenings. music is good for falling in love. and for falling out of it. music is good for mornings when you break your phone and lose your wallet and rear-end your teacher in your pa...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    What does the Depression mean to Me? Just words on a page in a history book. Black and white photographs, of men I don’t know, standing in lines for bread. The Wizard of Oz, FDR, and a quiz I didn’t really study for. My dad says Grandma is a child of the Depression. Born in a ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    death doesn't come like a thunderbolt to children. death is a whisper, surreptitiously stolen from the shadowed face of an adult who doesn't want you to be afraid. that murmur sinks like a fly trapped in honey, lethargic, struggling to the center until you know what it is, this terribl...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    My aunt calls my grandpa Atticus Finch. The greatest respect she could hope to pay him. Just like the rapist who painted a fence. The defenseless, defended for a fresh coat of paint Built his Legacy. My mom calls my grandma if time permits. Grandma told Mom She didn't need college...
  • Nonfiction > Academic
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    If a person were to ask any child about sugar, the child would probably tell them that they can’t get enough of it. On the other hand, if the child’s parents were asked about sugar, they would most likely say that their child needs to eat less of it. The common consensus among parents is that s...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The walls do not confine me here. They stretch into the sky: Walls of the cathedral that Nature built. The sun peeks over them tenderly To wake the vibrant canyon up. This place is no labyrinthine expanse; It is a familiar hallway. The river’s bends are as well known As the sidewalks I s...
  • Reviews > Book Reviews
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    The Great Brain by John. D. Fitzgerald When book lovers think about the “Wild West” as a setting for a story, they most often picture striking desert landscapes, rowdy mining towns, cowboy gunmen, and the name “Louis L’Amour”. In a Western novel, they want action, excitement, drama, ...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    He pulls the cover up and strikes the keys. The dissonance, and melodies opposed, Gold matches glow inside his soul, detached, And fire begins to blaze in the window. The waltz with clashing chords starts through the snow His lonely hands in octaves sinuous. The walnut stretches up its sinu...

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