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Poetry: “Things Coyote Would Like,” by Davy Knittle

a respectable turkey sandwich
vanilla frosting
cinnamon
jawlines
sheep shorn in quicksand
pinewood sheds
duck feathers
leg flesh
telephone calls from the desert
garbage
cactus pear ice cream
calluses on the pads of your hands
dance about weather systems
flat feet
sand around the rim of a water glass
the ecology of salamanders
lemongrass tea
where the moon goes
pronounced or burgundy stratus clouds
banana yogurt
deltoid muscles
fishing wire at your ankles
sleep or its undoing
grids for hanging lights in a theater
utility maps
lion noises
cheap straw hats
powdered jelly donuts
Eliza’s serious rain face
mint leaves
turpentine
a forearm telescope

I Say Tomato, You Say Tomate

Laura Stiers is a third year English major studying abroad in London this quarter. In Dispatches from London, she blogs about books, curious Anglicisms, and literary culture in one of Europe’s most literary cities.

“Well, at least you don’t have to learn a new language!” everyone said to me. It felt like I was cheating, in a way. Sneakily avoiding the true study abroad experience. All my friends learned Greek or French or Hindi. I just had to remember to say “loo” instead of “bathroom.” Not very impressive. Continue reading

The Eighth Deadly Sin is Queue-Jumping

Laura Stiers is a third year English major studying abroad in London this quarter. In Dispatches from London, she blogs about books, curious Anglicisms, and literary culture in one of Europe’s most literary cities.

I can’t shake the feeling that I have “foreigner” tattooed somewhere prominent on my body. Riding the Tube (far superior in cleanliness and speed to the CTA, you will not be surprised to learn!), walking down the street, sitting in a pub . . . it seems they must know that I’m an impostor. My American-ness feels like it’s wafting off of me in every direction. Continue reading