Wednesday, February 24, 2016 // The Statement
Wednesday, February 24, 2016 // The Statement
4B
5B

Bywater Squabble

Eliza Cadoux 

Excerpted from Call Your Mom’s upcoming performance 

This Close

Blanche hollers
thinking I let the place go? I let the place go?
Only it’s me
And this isn’t Scene 1, and we are northerners
In this humid city
And I say
thinking I’ll let you go? I’ll let you go?
 
We rode bikes over
And over
Dark rings under your eyes
 
I equated myself to a flame
dancing wavering-nearly-going-out
And you
the wind
 
Let’s fight and dance until 
the stubbornness of New Orleans saves us

Little Sh*t

By Adam Depollo

Daily Arts Writer

It was fifty degrees in Orlando today, so every smart 

person stayed inside. Bob sat in his room watching a news-
man stand in the snow. I sat in the hotel lobby watching a 
middle 
aged man watching a newsman stand in the snow. 

I’m not sure if either of us enjoyed ourselves, but my sen-
tence was longer.

Later that afternoon, I sat in the jacuzzi reading “The 

Library of Babel,” which ends like this:

I venture to suggest this solution to the ancient prob-

lem: The Library is unlimited and cyclical. If an eternal 
traveler were to cross it in any direction, after centuries 
he would see that the same volumes were repeated in the 
same disorder (which, thus repeated, would be an order: 
the Order). My solitude is gladdened by this elegant hope.

Mar de Plata, 1941.
And so I turned to Jorge Luis Borges, who had insisted 

on wearing his three piece suit in the hot tub, and said 
—Jorge, didn’t you know that if you spent all day in the 
library, everything you wrote would come out covered in 
dust with a Dewey Decimal number? 

Borges pulled the Aleph out of his pocket and held it in 

front of my face, driving me insane for a moment until he 
placed it gingerly back into his jacket. Borges was blind, 
you know, so that was a fun little game he liked to play. He 
went back to making little splashes with his cane.

—Adam, he said, I remember once walking by your 

father in a hallway at Michigan State — this was long 
before he had ever thought about having you, of course — 
and thinking to myself ‘I wish I had a little shit hanging 
around all the time to let me know when my prose gets 
dusty.’

The world certainly is an interesting place, wouldn’t 

you say? One never knows who’s listening.

I started to get out of the jacuzzi, and Borges added —

Little Shit, didn’t you know that if you spent all day in your 
own head, everything you wrote would come out covered 
in blood with a bit of brain attached?

He started laughing, and I put my shirt back on. 
—You should probably take that off, he said. I think you 

need some sun. I can see you’re whiter than me! 

I walked away, and Borges shouted after me —And Lit-

tle Shit, stop pretending to be Roberto 

Bolaño!

Most Downloaded Woman of 2000

Eliza Cadoux

LSA Junior

48K12.JPG, she’s a charmer she holds 

a pixel grin pixie limbs frame 
pink pearlescent nylon bikini 

fingers wrapped around her thong, she pulls up the sides 
to show that crook place between hip and leg 
this is why she is in demand

downloaded in 2000 to the graces of laptop
computers on which child plays on Microsoft paint 
and mother looks up shelters and motels 
and teen searches instructions for apple pipes

48K12.JPG, boxed
looks over the boxed people and grins 
ad infinitum

OK 

By Cammie Finch 

LSA Senior

When you ask me “Are you OK?” 
you haven’t really asked me 
anything. 

What exactly are you 
implying? I wonder 
without asking 
because
I’m too far lost 
in your
tangled wood of 
acronymbleness. 

Am I …

an ornery kid? 
 (don’t sit me in time out
 this is our time now)

an original Keats? 
 (that’s right, bright star, 
 I dare not breathe without you) 

an occupied kangaroo? 
 (I’ve found my pouch, 
 my cradle, my comfort - 
 I’ve zipped it shut) 

an oceanic kebab? 
 (substance disintegrating downwards, 
 yet my skeleton structure floats on the surface. 
 the shriveled remains of memory go along
 for the ride)

an orangutan king? 
 (crown of thorns 
 eyes of wild
 heart of flaming orange 
 spirit)

an orbiting Kepler?
 (my head circles like Saturn circles
 around like Saturn circles around
 like Saturn circles around like Saturn) 

an omnipotent karma?
 (my presence tips the paint into your lap, 
 swerves cars into your lane. 
 my presence can make you rich, 
 can make you pay) 

an obliterated kayak?
 (the rapids have gotten too rough,
 can’t you feel my plastic splinters digging 
 into your hands?)

an obdurate kazoo? 
 (my mouth is plugged to spite you 
 that’s what we instruments can do)

an Orville kernel?
 (i’m ready to be transformed
 under pressure, watch me -
 i’m about to explode)

I can be any OK you want me to be.
I’m an overloaded kaleidoscope, 
twist me to see my colors 
change before your monochrome eyes. 
I can be any OK you want me to be - 
that is, with the proper specifications. 

OK? 

Nucleus

By Katarina Merlini

LSA Sophomore.

I’ve grown weary of my treacherous heart
for too long it’s sat vapid in my breast 
a thankless burden I could do without
like a scythe cutting silk it whispers in the night
the truths wound deeper than the lies

with yellowed nails I dug in deep
cracked through my ribs and slipped through sinew
I pulled it out with an old coat hanger
cleansed the wound with warm watered wine
and sewed it closed with willow vines

I’ve kept the withered thing in a mason jar
filled with formaldehyde
it’s grown an eye and watches me sleep
sometimes I ask him what he’s called
he has yet to answer me

Mindfulness

Cammie Finch, 

LSA Senior

inhale 
…
open your thighs wide
like the pages of a book
yawning their language
into your head

drink in the stillness
lift your spine taller 
and
prepare for the backbend
(you are stronger than
you think you are) 

envision the full moon
washing the back 
of your head with its
silken fingers, dripping
its nectar down your 
vertebrae until your 
seat is warm in thought

align your sacrum
to this intelligent
edge of backlit
realism (it’s magical)

breathe deeply into 
the beauty of 
asymmetry and 
savor your perfect
state of being 
vulnerable
(because i do). 

be aware of your breath: think - 
and then let it pull,
like an unknitted cloud,
away
with your 
…
exhale.

ILLUSTRATION BY KELSI FRANZINO
ILLUSTRATION BY KELSI FRANZINO

ILLUSTRATION BY 

EMILY WATERS

ILLUSTRATION BY EMILY WATERS

