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By Diamond Smith Maurice Powe felt it was his responsibility to take care of those who were vulnerable and those who were
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By Christmaelle Vernet When passing through the Student Union, you may notice a new student business has opened within People’s Market. On
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By Tess Weisman The University of Massachusetts Amherst has signed the Okanagan Charter, committing itself to a transformative vision when it comes
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By Diamond Smith “What will you do with your English degree?” I hear this all the time when asked about my degree.
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By: Nicolás Javaloyes The National Football League (NFL) has seen a disproportionate number of Black players for decades. However, in the league’s
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By: Christmaelle Vernet AMHERST- As Black History Month rolls to an end, UMass’ Black Student Union organized its annual Black History Month
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By: Elienishka Ramos Torres Everyday when I walk around campus, I see lamp posts with banners on them. ‘BE REVOLUTIONARY’ is what’s
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By: Tashanna Johnson Photos are from the ‘Be Revolutionary’ march hosted by the UMass Amherst Chapter of the NAACP (National Association of
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Untitled
By: Alisina Saee-Nazari Untitled Damaged people like refugees Cross the borders of bloodlines that are not their own. Their nation lying with Their choice. We seek asylum for our pens because we can no longer Rewrite our history Our spirits Smothered in ink and callused like elbows. Put an ear to my chest And you will hear Footsteps.
Bamboo
By: Oshiomah Oyageshi This bench I sit on was once a tree. Maybe it was a forest Can it feel nostalgia? Does it remember how it feels to be wild? To be nourished by loam while earthworms wriggle around its roots? For its leaves to relish the sun for breakfast? I am surrounded by tall green skinny bamboos as I watch fat koi with the tinct of flaming persimmons swim aimlessly. As I bask in the glory of this humid paradise, I can only wonder if I deserve this blessing; To be the only one in this cage of glass
Limb Lazarus
By Oshi You have done it again. One hour in every two you create me–A sort of perpetual slumber ritual. Change your pillow and posture, Don’t I terrify? Yes, yes boy it is I. Do you deny the numb, burning zombie transmuted from your arm?— overnight, slowly, discreetly, very painfully; when your pillow and head squash my being. Restricting the blood. Your stubborn comfort insists, on staying put over crushed arteries and veins. Needles and pins pierce through pillow as my skin makes room. It’s the second hour, and like the cat, I have nine lives to live. This is