I already miss home. As expected, moving was a mistake. This house is big and empty. I don’t like big houses; my mother knows that. They make me feel small.
Long awaited moonlight, emanating
My love is here
threading herself through this fickle forest
from the branches
through my roots, into everything.
I’m being conquered
the dead king
They sing to her grace
We are moonlit after all
Nature is …
My therapist, a woman in her mid-forties with short hair and small spectacles, clears her throat and finds eye contact with uncomfortable politeness. I admit that I enjoy watching how therapists bend over backward to maintain composure, “Jess, I think you might be Bipolar.”
"American Sniper" not only espouses a tired “good vs. evil” narrative, but in altering, omitting, and fabricating aspects of the Iraq War, it perpetuates a chronology in which the nuances and complexities of the war are rendered null and void.
In conjunction with the release of "Fire in the Lake," the third annual volume of creative writing from NYU's Prison Education Program, the editors answer questions from NYU Gallatin students.
A program to begin addressing the fundamental injustices that have afflicted people of African descent in America since the arrival of European pioneers in the New World.
The students in Louise Harpman's “Architecture and Urban Design LAB” course build a structure out of discarded single-use plastic water bottles.
"Isn't that scotland. / Don't blame the tweed. / You have never seen a fabric before. / I think it should be our fleece. / I appreciate fabric. / That is my fleece. / I am interested in having wool." A series of computer-generated mini plays.