By Robert Racicot
I walk empty, quiet streets, each house aglow in blue, airwaves bursting with isolation. Moon rises early, growing super pink, soon the wild creeping phlox will wake. What we call tomorrow will come, to witness our universal nexus moment. Orion hunts low, southwest, inspired the human gods to align the pyramids, little changes in the light, thousands of years ago.
By Erica Gilman I will not say I have bloomed for you, for I have already opened my petals a long time ago. I was rosy and ready, and loved by the summer sun. I […]
By Gabrielle Plainte On Sunday, April 7, a poetry reading took place in the Faculty Lounge of the Sullivan Building. People of all ages attended, some students, others pure lovers of poetry, and a few […]
The New Worcester Spy is partnering with creative writing and art club INK to host a Worst Love Poem contest! Compose a creatively awful love poem and submit it to thenewworcesterspy@gmail.com by midnight February 12 […]
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