Newspapers / St. Andrews University Student … / Feb. 3, 1989, edition 1 / Page 5
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February 3. 1989 THE LANCE page 5 Quill & Ink ON THE EVENT OF GRANVILLE'S BURNING DECEMBER 10, 1988 Post psych exam Coming across the causewalk I notice fire engines And black smoke rising Off the roof of Granville. People surround In an anxious crowd. Something white lies on the dead grass A stretcher? White sheet? Coming closer I realize - no, Just a boat overturned on the bank. I reprimand myself For jumping to silly conclusions. Still, smoke rises In a thick black fog And a swarm of huddled onlookers Moves from one cluster To the next (Like a bag lady in search of a meal) Hoping to come up with the makings Of some plausible story Why? How? Still smoke rises Into the cluttered air And firefighters. In their yellow padded suits and Ash-marked faces, search for Signs of life left behind (In tanks and cages). Later, From my third floor window. Noises, voices, drift upwards With the smell of smoke That still looms heavy in the air. Swarms of questioning faces still Huddle arm in arm. Parents waiting to take their children Home for the Holidays. One Granvillite says to another, "What do you want for Christmas?" The other boy replies. With only a half-sad laugh, "New underwear?" JENNIFER HITCH ASHES I am Semele. All you have left of me is a pile of soot (And you ask me why my smile isn't the same) JILL STRICKLIN-GEORGE MOVEMENT 1 a strange outcry issued forth by the trees shots ring out from behind the grassy knoll the leaves are scattered and banned from further assembly the buildings breathe and lustre 'til the morning comes 2 serving a higher purpose on a plastic tray all last hopes have gone bad 3 please, don't change hints of violence in your eyes expressed with fire my love is a hole in the wall please don't draw the curtains i should rather drink boiling water than to stand beside you in line as if nothing had happened 4 we are less afraid if we speak about ourselves collectively all recklessness however opaque is sharply focused upon you 5 my pockets are bottomless to your hands my mouth is emptiness to your ears your heart is impervious to the one thing on my mind 7 Which end is the wrong end of a gun anyway? AW0L3 UNTITLED down the hall i sometimes hear the hysterical laughter of a caged hyena or the psychotic voice of nellie olson or was that the sewer rat ? i often need to remind myself that this is an institution of learning and not the hecklers heaven we dream about, but then again i don't heckle it ain't in my nature. arey uoes tabl ishe dyet and are you responsible? a song is drifting down the hall and some guy with a red guitar is claiming to have the truth, we thought we found the real truth last weekend in the bottom of a bottle but the worm must have eaten it before we could retrieve it. LISA GALL EPICUREAN BLUES 1 You got angry at me the other day when we were talking about life after death and i said to you "Cut the shit, when you die, damnit, you die." You said a lot of mean things to me that day. You said all I do is sit around and write depressing poetry that doesn't make any sense. It wasn't very nice, so I started to think about it. 2 Well, I thought about it. What's with you anyway Ms. Bonnie Blue Bonnet? Why do you believe in Knights in shining armour and love at first sight? Why do you think there's a chunk of gold at the end of every stinking rainbow? 3 It doesn’t matter. Eternally moving, our cheeks continue to flap in the wind as we run like scared bunnies past aqua blue houses with window panes lined in pink. My nose is huge and shiny and I'm beginning to realize that it probably always will be. 1 am not a cartoon character. At least that's what I keep telling myself. 4 Blessed and eternal is my rasping breath. I am like a wet log on an open fire. I bum, 1 grow cold, I cannot be used again. You never needed warmth anyway, cuddled up cozy inside your fantasy world. Like an ice cube on a gas burner, your heat melts into all that I am. 6 i laugh at you laughing at me while i sign my name my head is chaos, single file my thoughts have left as i throw flowers that stick in your side RUTH ECKLES
St. Andrews University Student Newspaper
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Feb. 3, 1989, edition 1
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