Advertisement

Excerpting Senior Writers: Justin Wymer '12

Wymer reflects on writing his poetry thesis.

Could I ever ferment—and the nature of

my roundnesses soften—the oil-

slicks of May be re-

possessed—Now here, in the crenellated

pause preceding laughter—the magnolias

Advertisement

shriek open—where the old

owls laugh—Leaflessness was never

a prophecy—Pills of

snow curl into their own throats

and lay claim there, intrude on their own

blanched flesh—This ripped light

slits open, releases, cauterizes

every hole —The larvae’s tongues harden somewhere—

the blood-ice seems smudged with

lice—

Tags

Advertisement