Sharing the Darkness

Carolyn Forché

I wake with a start at midnight. A nightbird striking the window? A bat in the eaves? Maybe someone in the theater of my sleep gave me a nudge—someone I don’t know in waking life. It is cloudy and warm…

Two Poems from Bucha, Ukraine

Lesyk Panasiu, with introduction by Ilya Kaminsky

Ilya Kaminsky on Lesyk Panaisuk’s Poetry “Russian soldiers stayed in our building,” the poet Lesyk Panaisuk wrote to me a few weeks ago. When the war began, Lesyk left Bucha in a hurry, fleeing the Russian invasion. “War will live…

Fire and Rust:

a Suite of Poems from Pat Pattison’s Poetry Workshop

Each year Boston College host the Greater Boston Intercollegiate Undergraduate Poetry Festival, inviting undergraduate student poets from area colleges and universities to read their original poetry. This year, Skyler Bugg, a student in Pat Pattison’s Writing Poetry 2 class, represented Berklee College of Music. Here are the three poems she presented. Firebird is written in Blank Verse, Eve is an Italian Sonnet, and Becoming is Free Verse.

Hamilton The Musical and Political Reception of Art

Emma Pawl

Lin Manuel Miranda’s decision to cast people of color (POC) as white historical figures in Hamilton the musical, both helps to further representation for POC in musical theater, and more accurately depicts the America of today, as well as the…

3 Poems

Leana Borsuk

Just find it
That small curl always dangling in your face—it blocks me from your eyes. You wonder what color, and it’s not the color, but how it feels to me when the sun shines through, burning your eyes. It makes my blood boil, the way at night they are filled with excitement. I know you feel the butterflies in my stomach and the way the moon reflects the mood in your eyes. I just can’t get enough. I think, when will it be enough?

Charlestown High

Joseph Hughes

I ate the little shit’s tootsie rolls. Under the Obama’s presidential photo, the president beaming with arms crossed, I slowly chewed my tootsie roll and hummed the tune to Simon & Garfunkle’s Punky’s Dilemma. The kids in my classroom…


Bella Komodromos

Life is a game of skill. Hone in on your skills, and rise to meet what wants to bring you suffering. Since releasing my debut EP, I’ve gotten the question “What is your songwriting process?” more times than I could…

Reduced: (She/Her) Why I Struggle With My Pronouns

Natashia Deón

In this present moment, the courthouses where I argue for my criminal clients, offices where I practice mental health as a therapist, and universities where I teach (or attend), have not completely returned to pre-pandemic functioning since COVID-19 began. For…

For He Was a Great Man

Juan Felipe Herrera, U.S. Poet Laureate Emeritus

For he was a great man thrown & pulled toward the flames
For the flames were familiar for they would seal his story
For he was taken down face down body down to account
For his soul stood up & noticed the chariot song descending
For he pleaded as the fiery metals coiled upon his ebony skin
For he was our Renaissance our thirst our vessel for Freedom
For they said he was our father our son our symbol our body
For a choir assembled in the streets in every furnace of witness
For he called upon his mother as he called upon the Source
For he was not your Negro he was not your Black cut down
For he was the ancestral ship burning through waves & chains
For he was the future no one had prophesied the Now & the Is...