“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