“You can’t do it alone. As you navigate through the rest of your life, be open to collaboration. Other people and other people’s ideas are often better than your own. Find a group of people who challenge and inspire you, and spend a lot of time with them, and it will change your life.”
Montage is a tribute to the artists, friends and mentors who challenge and inspire the Quinnipiac community. This issue celebrates the space we’ve created for each other. It’s where we realize, again and again, how much we gain by opening ourselves to other people.
Thank you for sharing.
This is the place to be
“Russell just posted a photo of himself kissing the Blarney Stone,” said Logan. I looked up the photo on my phone. Russell was smiling as Das and Will lowered him down to the bottom of the Blarney Stone.
Congratulations on your acceptance to Quinnipiac University of Hamden, Connecticut. You’re invited to start your university experience by joining us for this year’s transfer orientation program.
Pig’s feet pounding plump and pink
And piggylike, whiskers on piggy-bikes
but I feel like cotton swabs
sardined in the hull of my esophagus.
51 years since the day. Has it been that much time? 51 fucking years. Really. Behind him, a brass alarm clock sputters ahead—perfectly rhythmic, of course—as opposed to the sporadic pulsing between his eyes.
Always thinking forward, never backward
Always improving something each day
Always adapting to new problems every morning
He was William. Always William. Not Will or Willy or heavens, not Bill—that was his father—but William.
Here's a chair with your name on it
You have so much to do today that you scalded your tongue on your morning coffee because there simply was no time to wait for it to cool.
They used to tell me the bogeyman lived here,
In the room with dirt walls at the back of the cellar,
Once a refrigerator for everything but the honeycombs
That didn’t need one.
I have calloused fingers:
From prying open Venus on a bad night
From wiping the white off hot coffeepots
I was looking for her, and saw her through the crowd through a window, standing outside on the porch. I saw her breath in the air, with smoke from the joint she somehow kept lit in the wind.
Hair slicked back
mauve black—shark fins gelled cool
with severed comb lines.
Outside, distant sirens and screeching tires darted down the road. The loud demand filled the silence for a few moments, and its whirring refrain lingered in their ears for some time.
First, thinking about life.
I once tried to figure out the equation to socialization
and if you can’t tell from this explanation
You're probably thinking this isn't
what you thought it should be
Black flies on the windowsill,
a half-drunk bottle of beer
stagnant in stained glass
You are going to meet people who remind you of the elements, of the smell of vanilla, of silk and you are going to meet people with eyes that resemble batwings and laughs that sound more like screams.
How to pack for an experience of a lifetime! You
must leave room for maps – the kind with brand
new creases like a baby’s finger bent
around a dad-sized pinky.
I heard the swish of his feet stepping on leaves and turned my head to look at him. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but our eyes met and he closed it. I faced the shadows of the trees again and searched for stars in the spaces between the branches.
We need to talk.
I was on a train to Edinburgh when I received that text
And that talk told me everything
I didn’t want to hear about
Hands dripping black tar sweep across my chest,
covering up your pecking marks –
all the times you’ve had a piece of me.