To our readers,
Welcome back everyone to spring semester, we made it! The Grail is coming back in full force this semester, now giving you your biweekly dose of arts and writing! We have heart eye-emojis for this week’s issue, which features the work of new and old contributors alike on the topic of love and romance. So whether you’re into roses and boxes of chocolate, or think Valentine’s Day is capitalist conspiracy, we promise that we’ll have something for you. The Grail gets sexy as two lovers reunite in Marvin C.’s sweet story (1), and editor Lauren takes us on a tour of locales on campus brimming with romance (3). Owen H. shares adoration for public transportation, and Max N. expresses loneliness in waiting for love ones (4). Genna G. expresses dangerous love in an action-packed love story (5), and Flora G. draws a new snakeless medusa (7). Imani G. rebuts an iconic ee cummings love poem (8), and Aislin L. S. reflects on the best type of love, obviously the canine kind (9). Sophie H. shares some lovely photos in a heart-shaped bath (10).
P.S. If you’re interested in writing with us, our meetings are Tuesdays at 8pm in the Student Publications Office (GCC-047). Or send questions and submissions directly to our brand new email address thegrail@reed.edu!
Love,
Dan, Sophie, and Lauren
News & Features
The first two lines of this E.E. Cummings poem are so often quoted that they’ve sadly been reduced to cliché. I can honestly say that I enjoy and admire Cummings’ poetry. For that reason, I have read and (over)analyzed this poem so many times that I’ve rendered myself incapable of reading it simply as a sweet message conveying the purest love.
Valentine’s Day is often about gestures, gifts, and words exchanged that situate romance in the spotlight. Love, though, is obviously much more than that. It’s more experiential, imbued into aromas, the songs we hear, and significantly, the places we exist in together. I often think about the love stories held in the places on Reed’s campus over its hundred year history.
Poetry & Fiction
I wish to write this for my dog.
I wish to write it into the sniffing language he understands,
to chase it into the proper sequence of circles and stairhops
Kalila jerked her kitchen knife out of the body before her, a gush of blood chasing the blade. It soaked her hands, warm on her clammy skin. The man struggled to breathe through the blood bubbling in his lungs for a moment longer, clawing at her torn jacket, before his heart gave out. He slumped against her, the dead weight forcing her to stagger backwards.
Closed eyes, head on shoulder, hand in hand
reminding. Know these swaying lights inside
this shaking tunnel form the glowing vein
within a darker hall.
My bird,
The very thought of the last weekend makes me shiver from bliss. Let me live that moment again.
Released on August 25, 2020, Haley Blais’ Below the Salt is an album I wish I had during my first year of college. Coincidentally, that’s when I first started listening to Blais, a Vancouver-based singer-songwriter and vlogger whose wacky sense of humor and DIY bedroom-pop bangers resonated with me, a freshman living on her own for the very first time and trying to make sense of the world and herself. That unsure first-year is a senior now, but no less unsure, and I think that’s the point of Blais’ debut album: her label writes, “Below the Salt is a coming of age story that recognizes that there is no real ‘coming of age.’”