Yale Daily News

These are the rangelands south of Australian opal fields, cattle-beaten and itching, red as an angry throat. They built boomtowns and picked at the orebody, […]

March 30, 2022

My father’s side dials from landlines: when you are on our end of the Pacific, get on a train and come to New York and […]

March 30, 2022

A tall staircase led up a wall  south of the city’s port and reached around a corner  at the marketplace. One day a merchant came […]

March 30, 2022

i never use apostrophes where they should be, sentences hanging like a waxing gibbous moon cat emoji, blush emoji, heart emoji, with double 3s  bracketed […]

February 24, 2022

June dusk and the air  is like water  pouring over your  skin the dark is rest  for your eyes the night  is bounty. Dusk and  […]

February 24, 2022

And even though I tumbled carelessly through the world inside you biding my time to give my word, giving my word while breathing in yours, […]

January 27, 2022

Poetry created from pieces of graffiti in the stacks and confessions from @yale.confessions on Instagram. Every word below was written by someone else, with only […]

December 11, 2021

the inviolate red rock overlooking the greyed connecticut shore watches sleepily as  we clamber barefoot toward the sea   bottles and books and cheaply made […]

December 11, 2021

Mother, quiet and pregnant with fear, raised a daughter with no tongue. I remember in our old house the door opened outward to the grass, […]

October 14, 2021

there are pomegranates in your cheeks. a saccharine smile leaves the sap in its place. your eyes sparkle with the sugar. there’s a tree in […]

October 14, 2021

This poem is a collage poem made from “The Yellow Wallpaper” by Charlotte Perkins Gilman.                    there […]

April 29, 2021