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The Ninth Annual Colloquium: Call for Editor and Paper Submissions!
The English Students’ Association is now calling for submissions to our ninth annual student run conference, the Colloquium! The Colloquium is the ESA’s undergraduate conference focused on highlighting the research and scholarship of the UBC English program. Each year, the conference features presentations by undergraduate students in English language and literature, and will be held on March 10th 2023. Our paper submission deadline is Friday, January 27th, 2023 at 11:59 pm. If you do not have a paper to submit but still want to get involved, we are also looking for editors. Applications for editors are due on Monday, January 23rd, 2023 at 11:59 PM. Click here for Application for…
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Voting Period: VP Social Programming
For the past week, we have been accepting nominations for the ESA’s 2022-23 VP Social Programming. Now that the submission period is over, we ask that registered ESA members submit their votes using the link in the email sent to them! Please note that as per AMS guidelines, only registered members may vote. Non-registered members who vote will have their vote discarded. This page will be removed from public viewing once an applicant has been voted in. Please read our three nominees below: – 1. Nico Hussain Tell us about yourself and why you are interested in running for this role. Feel free to include any relevant experience: I am…
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Barter Rings
before I was born I was granted a rite to ceremony, but it is not enough not when there are no more barter rings and only your ring-bearer bartering
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The One Where She Falls in Love with Him
The wind that we agreed was too cold for existence whips memories of you through every exposed crevice of my sweater
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Who do you Perform for?
“Last night molly asks me - who do you perform for- and the questions rotates” (Boan) Who do you perform for?
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Caught in Your Riptide
I want to climb inside you And listen to the gossip that runs through your blood
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Tulips
i dreamt of tulips today
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Pantone 9561 C
hi mama, please don’t freak out i want to start by saying I’m okay.
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You
i thought i loved you honestly, i really did
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The Security Guard
I’ve seen him every monday, wednesday, friday this november
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Spaghetti
This was going to be a long-winded spaghetti metaphor.
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We’re Hiring: VP Social Programming
Do you like hosting fun events? Want to get more involved in the English department? Now is your chance!
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dear my universe
the stars tell stories but not everyone can hear them. a night sky; under the expanse of the world– the watchful eyes of the cosmos what am i searching for?
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This Feels Like The End
Bleeding wishes held in your hands feel so far Hard water, the words unsaid
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All I Know
All the machine knows is to operate All the spider knows is to weave
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Drowning
I can’t say anything We’re drowning in grey waters
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Rapture
i am forever chasing the next distraction
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Big Sun & The Crabapple Miracle
I Have you met me yet? – I am a small animal who is trying to fall in love with you. Oh, wait, no, that can’t be right. – I woke up really slow at first and then all of the sudden. And all of the things I had been holding in my hands and in the space between my skin and my real self started to fall, which is to say I started to drop them, and then couldn’t remember how to pick them up again. I started to get smaller, and smaller, and smaller, until I exploded, until I met my real body. – Have we met before?…
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Love is an old t-shirt
Your love sticks like an old t-shirt to my skin on a rainy day.
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Party Leftovers
Music still turns from the hour, once hushed by the conversation of the hour.Candle wicks burn until their end, unattended.Steam from a sidelined mug makes the air, clashing perfumes and colognes, visible.Wrinkles on the couch like a basset hound.Table runner stained with half-eaten pies left on ceramic dishes with scratchy bottoms.Shared flannel blanket draped over a battered armchair.Milk in the pitcher, passed from cocoa to tea, collects dust particles visible in the white.Fire burns bright in the low light, unattended.The skin is tight at my laugh lines like lifting a heated glass, intentionally impressing.– The frost-filled town like a photo outside;now only I am walking amongst these mementos. GiGi Kang