“A Word We Use to Plug Holes With”: The Concept of Love in Poetry

By Julia Bifulco The topic of love is ever-present in art, and despite how often we see it, we are always eager to revisit it. Throughout the centuries, however, the word ‘love’ has been used less and less sparingly. Instead of reserving it for the utmost special and overwhelming emotions, it is thrown at any

Finding Absurdity to Cope with Literary Tragedies: An Analysis of Kafka’s Metamorphosis, Hardy’s Tess of the d’Urbervilles and Brontë’s Wuthering Heights

By Talia Kliot After two years in English literature at Dawson, I have noticed that the works we study tend to be analyzed from a melancholic angle. Examples of such works include Hardy’s Tess of the D’Urbervilles (1891), a heartbreaking story of a fallen woman, and Brontë’s Wuthering Heights (1847), an unfortunate tale of two

“Perpetual Female Entrapment:” An Analysis of Identity in Mrs. Dalloway and The Bell Jar

By Anastasia Kolokatsis The Modernist movement is renowned as being a period of tension and change. This atmosphere is translated into the literary works of the time, in which authors reflected on the disillusionment brought on by the events of World War 1. They wrote openly about their collective anxiety and helplessness concerning these topics

Dawson Library Daydream

By Talia Kliot Even the plates have character in the country. I imagine that someone meticulously painted on the blue and yellow flowers, each petal a careful stroke. The pancakes are piled up and steam seeps out of their fluffy pores, the smell of browned edges wafting through the fresh, country air. If I make

Speak to Me in Clichés

By Talia Kliot   Tell me you’re a kid in a candy store When you gaze deep into my soft brown eyes. Remind me to always think hard before My sharp tongue lashes out to criticize.    Tell me that you’re falling head over heels.  We’ll run away; no time like the present.  Yes, I

Broken Bones

By Sophia Canzonieri It all just feels like broken bones, Joints and teeth. I wish the fracturing of my skull Would allow me to be pretty. The blood will seep through my pores. I will finally be yours. Divinity is not a perfect goal, I know that, I know. But if that’s the only way

The Decomposition of a Flower

By Sophia Canzonieri   Maybe I am withering Who are you to say It’s hard to understand The things you can’t say When you’re trying not to vomit It all just comes, bubbles up I thought I was hardened Like the calluses on my feet But really I am a fragile pansy Too much of

Leviathan

By Benjamin Wexler The sea monsters: these are the great fish in the sea, and in the legends, this refers to the Leviathan and its mate, for God created them male and female, and He slew the female and salted her away for the righteous in the future, for if they would propagate, the world

The Bowl is Upside Down

By Arueny   My roommates are funny.   Sometimes they do this thing, making   voices — run out of voice, cupboards — arise from nothing, even the floor — runs out of space,  but Now my soup is stuck on the ceiling.    A funny house made them that way; Stick doors and stone walls That

The Society of Frogs

By Tanis Korzekwa INT. RANDAL’S OFFICE – AFTERNOON The office is messy, file cabinets that line the south wall have the occasional random, half-open drawer. There’s a carpet on the floor in the center of the room with various stains on it. Its colors are so faded its old pattern is virtually unidentifiable. RANDAL, 39,