“Holliday,” Ryan Chin ‘25

#bbblocked

by Enuma Anekwe-Desince ‘22

Disclaimer: This poem is best viewed in the original spread. We have tried to replicate the effects of the “blocked” words by striking through the word, but we also acknowledge that this transcription is not the most faithful adaptation of the poet’s work.

Nu, why you blocked me?

If misery loves company, oblivion

sure dotes on delusion.

Motherfucker, turn inward and

ask how you earned that block.

A block seems so extreme though,

why not just wait for me to

respond? I make my expectations

EXTREMELY clear and you block

that out whenever it’s convenient

so why can’t I block you back?

Doesn’t feel good to be blocked

out, huh? Well, stop wasting my

gahdamn time. Your love is not

urgent enough for me. For

someone you have love for you

sure be having me fucked up and

the most you feel compelled to

speak to me is when you discover

you’re blocked? Fuck outta here.

You’re too old for the bullshit,

man. Damn near 30 and getting

consistency from you is like

pulling teeth. Am I the new kid on

the block or are you? I thought

you’d been around the block a few

times, shouldn’t you know how

this goes? Instead of you putting

me up on game, I’m teaching you

shit? We’re 2,600 miles apart—

COMMUNICATION IS ALL WE HAVE!

To the chopping block you go

‘cause this ain’t the stumbling

block I thought it would be. You

don’t have to be a phone person.

No need to be attached to

technology. Catch this block.

Now, you’re free.

 
 

Not

by Watson Deacon ‘24

for H, after Adrianne Lenker

It’s not the shock on your face while you’re laid on your back nor the blood nor the blur

nor the weight of what I’ve done not the way it sinks in not the earth not the spins not the

spirit disappearing not the nose nor the break nor the fight not fought not the time not

taken not the room we used to share not the softness you showed to the cucumber girl not

the time you heard me weep nor the arm I wrapped you in to keep you on your feet not

your smile not your strength not your sigh nor the signs not the highway drowned in

clouds not the women nor the weight not the nights we spent singing not neon not

dancing not the traitor not the pain not the future not vision not the way I miss you now

sitting empty in a room I haven’t cleaned in weeks which like violence is so unlike me.


“Pure Love,” Jiayue Wang ‘23