We are not all brothers and sisters, you know, but here, right next to each other, we grow


story | Anna Evtushenko photo | Public Affairs It’s I, and it’s you, and it’s he, and it’s she. Between us we ponder the math of Cauchy, the fate of Augustus, the shape of black holes, and how scattered destinies merge into wholes. We are not all brothers and sisters, you know, but here, right next […]

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Thanks to the Class of 2017 for providing much of the inspiration behind this poem. Wherever you continue in life, know that this part of it is appreciated. All in all, it has been an immense honor to be part of your journey and have you be part of mine.


poem | Al Lim photo | Public Affairs   Ngee Ann Kongsi, 2nd row, and I watched how the ground was broken. Facebook, many rows, and I watched how the fire alarm was broken. La La Luna, middle row and I was called out before the ukulele finished playing. What happened after the ground broke […]

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Loneliness is to give the body to the self who will not keep it. * Ahgong is an atheist. Watermelons cut, cubed. The closest thing to supper he could afford.                              For a dollar fifty cents, such a big bowl. Cheap faith, the little bit saved, my face resting on the rind, scraping.         A half-circle, […]

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what i try remembering

in my mind, a gallery of windows, sun melting across glass. i track differences: hair grown past your ear, fingertips heavier on shoulder blades. to share moments apart, i beg to trade geographies, scavenge for details to keep. my hands recall your body: an extra scar on your forearm, the peeling of skin from another […]

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My Family is not a Cloud

short story | Roshan Singh Some light crept in through the bedroom door and took a seat by the little girl’s bed. Hey, how you doing? The girl flashed a half-grin, and sunk a little further into her pillow. Yeah, we figured. It’s late. You should be sleeping. She lost her grin. Penny for your thoughts? […]

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poem | Professor Anju Mary Paul photo | Vice-Rector Eduardo Lage-Otero He died and I wasn’t there.   

Ninety-seven years old. My grandfather.  
In his bed, that he bought. 
In his house, that he built. 
Surrounded by all his children and their children
. Except me.   

He just closed his eyes and slipped away, they […]

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Traveling with Grief

story | Professor Robin Hemley photo | IowaNow My sister had been sick for a long time, and when she died of a prescription drug overdose, it was not entirely unexpected. Apparently, the overdose had been accidental, the mistake of a pharmacist who filled her prescription wrong, giving her a dose of Lithium that made […]

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the aftermath of my toilet

when you left, your hair clogged the sink again. it rises with the water, seaweed lungs breathing past every lover’s stain, yet planted into grime. my hands fear uprooting them, a reminder of my grass blade heart learning rain. soon, the hair will swim beyond the sink. the tap will stop looking like your neck. […]

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Poem by Paul Jerusalem, Guest Writer   i. What they don’t show you on prospective student brochures is the gap between each tile, how differently vomit tastes on its plate, how quickly it dries up, how you’ll grow immune to its scent, eau de toilet not in the right place, much less the specifics of […]

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