Annie, dusting the earth in birdseed, cups her ear for the coos of loons that echo up from Bantam Lake—across the thistled yellow hill where deer would bow their heads, go rigid, then bolt into the curtain of trees.
It was difficult to pay attention to anything but the mass of people that seemed to constantly surround me. Throughout the day, I found fears of terrorist attacks—or disbelief at how a terrorist attack had not yet occurred at the park—infiltrating my mind. I remember being packed into a bus on the way from our hotel to the park, standing with my pale tourist arms and legs rubbing against child limbs and moms’ Bermuda shorts, and thinking how perfect of a target we would be.
Spotted on Prospect Avenue: old white dudes trying to convert drunken college students to the Way of the Lord. Holding signs proclaiming, “Atheism is a temporary condition,” they spend the night stopping Street stumblers for fruitless conversations of the ecclesiastical nature.
It would perhaps be a platitude to say that children are much too influenced by their parents’ political views. I feel the statement to be true on a personal level, in that nearly all my peers throughout high school tended … Read More
The world of contemporary poetry has a startling new voice—and it is one that sounds a lot like an MC. This voice is that of Michael Robbins, who had his first poem chosen by Paul Muldoon to be published in the New Yorker just last year, and who this past year published his first collection of poems, Alien Vs. Predator.
What follows is an unranked list of ten of the most beautiful freshmen at Princeton, as chosen by us and based on a survey of approximately four upperclassmen girls.
Something about the engineering of stairwells / makes you want to push someone down one. / Vertebrae snapping against all those / edges straight as rulers. Too violent,
