Dad liked to drive with the windows open. Not just in summer when the air conditioning was being fickle, but in winter too. On sunny...

Managing Editors Katherine DuVal Callie Higgins Jacob Valenti Allison O'Keefe Poetry Editors Caitlin Mayes Alyssa St. Franc Jacob Valenti...

Dear Reader, As you may have noticed, this year we have decided to take a new approach with the front and back cover of Spires. We...

I still disagree with my poetry professor. He believes that there is no such thing as a “Bad” poem. We had this disagreement over a year...

Issued by the Main Office for the Enlightenment and Advertising of the German Students' Association: May 10, 1933 Against class warfare...

Some kind of sadness in the skin of the dog—neck cut crisp against the leash— hand—stranger—tugging along nature false—around the...

warm feet press against cold tile then knees a ritual bent over praying to our god of porcelain sins crawl from the depths of our...

I’m all alone. I’m wide awake in the lonely witching hours, the world sleeps, but I digress. Loneliness is a terrifying concept. ...

we burn the winter away in the bottom half of an oil drum, cut up the tree that took out our garage in the last nor’eastern, neat...

1. The calendar tells me I’m a Sagittarius but most mornings I feel like a Scorpio rising. Astrology cuts across hemispheres— here I am...