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Thorn
“Her swiping was formulaic. As the ratio of inked to bare skin–the share of pierced to unblemished–increased, so did her interest. She wasn’t attracted to them, necessarily. She was interested in the way they altered their bodies to mark moments in their lives they deemed significant.”
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namo buddha
the other night i dreamed of a door that opened to a hill on a hill with one thousand prayer flags tied to the trees and the sun burning the earth making your lips shine iridescent with spit or something else entirely and you telling me you’re thirsty yes i know but for all the…
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Quiet Soul
I am the empty stadium in your dreams, warmly lit by orange peel flowers, domes flaring. My flesh swells in Quiet bloom. To see the infinitive ceiling while it’s dry, I jump into the hole of the Joyceian dog’s nose. It sniffs the citrus of stars and children, imperiled, Quiet below. I float…
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My Other Half With That Thy Gentle Hand Seized Mine I Yielded
“I lay back in the heap of cords, which spawned and propagated from a bud, a navel, the hub of the Mimir, which still ran hot and loud a few minutes into the cooldown protocol.”
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Letter from the Editor
Dear Reader, Certain scholars have said that we need new literary forms to accurately reflect the anxieties of this generation. If you’ll indulge us in a navel-glance, this week the Nassau Weekly searches for a physical form that better reflects our sentiments. The Nass aspires to represent our age’s varied zeitgeist–this issue, our…
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Post-Post Modernism: Full Design
The Nass is ready to strip off all of this irony. We’re getting down to business.
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After Federal Cuts, Ph.D. student Trajan Hammonds stares down an uncertain future
At 1 a.m. in a hotel room, Trajan Hammonds, a fifth-year Ph.D. candidate in Princeton’s math department, lay in bed, bathed in his laptop’s spectral glow. An email banner swiped across his screen with the subject line: “Opportunity Deleted.” Scanning the automated message that followed, his chest tightened. In early February, Hammonds had traveled…
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