Murphy Writing of Stockton University Presents This entry is part of Getaway Reads, an e-mail series that features the writing of the Winter Poetry & Prose Getaway faculty. . When You Are the Brownest White Girl by Emari DiGiorgio Someone will call you spic. And you won’t know what to say because you’re a Ferrucci-DiGiorgio from the region of Molise where olives become oil, and there are slurs for your kind, too: Guinea, WOP, grease ball, so maybe, the sting is being slapped with another’s epithet. When you’re the brownest white ... Read More...
Getaway Reads 2020: Two Poems by Luray Gross
Murphy Writing of Stockton University Presents This entry is part of Getaway Reads, an e-mail series that features the writing of the Winter Poetry & Prose Getaway faculty. . The Shape of Usefulness by Luray Gross “I try to fit language into the shape of usefulness.” - Claudia Rankine The shape of a salt crystal, for example, or a needle, a wedge, a bolt. I try to fit language into the curve of a chalice or cupped hand, or the flat dry rock just big enough to step on before you leap to the far bank. Fit language into the waterwheel’s ... Read More...
Getaway Reads 2020: A piece by Paul Lisicky
Murphy Writing of Stockton University Presents This entry is part of Getaway Reads, an e-mail series that features the writing of the Winter Poetry & Prose Getaway faculty. . The Ways We Tried To Erase Each Other by Paul Lisicky My husband, my home, our dog, my best friend, my mother — who was left to lose? It had all taken place in 16 months, and I suppose it’s better to get it all over with than to have it happen over time, sanding you down little by little. I picked the building because its ornate surface reminded me of ... Read More...
Getaway Reads 2020: Two poems by Yusef Komunyakaa
Murphy Writing of Stockton University Presents This entry is part of Getaway Reads, an e-mail series that features the writing of the Winter Poetry & Prose Getaway faculty. . Facing It by Yusef Komunyakaa My black face fades, hiding inside the black granite. I said I wouldn't dammit: No tears. I'm stone. I'm flesh. My clouded reflection eyes me like a bird of prey, the profile of night slanted against morning. I turn this way—the stone lets me go. I turn that way—I'm inside the Vietnam Veterans Memorial again, depending on ... Read More...
Getaway Reads 2020: A short story by Joe Costal
Murphy Writing of Stockton University Presents This entry is part of Getaway Reads, an e-mail series that features the writing of the Winter Poetry & Prose Getaway faculty. . The First Thanksgiving by Joe Costal You call him Uncle Bobby. The whole family calls him Uncle Bobby, but he‘s a second-cousin. On your father’s side. Uncle Bobby has Dracula hair, 70s Dracula, high and poofy in the middle, but peaked and gray-streaked up front. He loves old country music and older rock ‘n’ roll. He is a United States veteran. ... Read More...