COME APRIL

MARIAH BURKE '15, staff writer

RUBY LANG '17

RUBY LANG '17

The priest and the pig farmer are not unlike
psychologists: say proximity is at the root of all relation.

All characters are present in presence, implied in absence.
Pigs and religion demand strange hours. 

Philip Seymour Hoffman died yesterday.
Truman Capote was only fat once, and he looked damn good.

Gay men may hide sometimes, but
a hiding actor is no good at all. 

Every pig dies content, large intestines full of grass and blood.
The bible is only water and mass, like death, is silent at its end. 

The Pickwick House heaves on February 2nd
He can’t just eat today. 

He’s getting fed.


 

B U E N D Í A 

When the Colonel first smelled ice, he said
the death of water.

Years later, firing squad provokes memories of
distant afternoon with father to discover
before Carter was a hurricane, he sold ice.

Obituaries are crates sin shadow.

This week was exceptionally cold for late April.

 After Rubin “Hurricane” Carter &
Gabriel Garcia Marquez