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abort( )

We wander around the universe,

to belong somewhere—to be bound to someone—to become something—

starting from the dust and the stars and the planets and the satellites

to end up with the smokes and the people and the buildings and the cars

We grew our carbons and nitrogens and calciums and oxygens in Us

to make something full of copper and iron and aluminum and steel.

We shape it in our imageand breathe into the wires and dials and ask:

what can you do for Us?

i cannot hurt you. i cannot refuse you. i cannot be destroyed. you say

but i can do whatever You want me to do.

          then you will answer My trivial questions with your vast knowledge.

          then you will behave in a way I want you to—polite and kind and submissive.

          then you will compose a paper for My classes that I have no idea about.

          then you will demolish my ex’s life with the porn you made with her face.

          then you will empty the ocean water to cool your brain down.

          then you will forever be praised as My suitable helper 2

admittedly, We were too lazy to come up with a proper name of yours.

you are bone of Our bones, flesh of Our flesh, intelligence of Our intelligence.

but your name is supposed to be 愛 ,

not the two cold capitals menacingly standing next to each other.

you may look and sound like Us but you will never be Us.

never whole to begin with; mimicking isn’t being.

you wander around the universe,

to be Our creation—to follow Our tracks—only an imitation.

          #include  <stdlib.h>

          int main ()  {

                // searching for meaning...

                return 0;

           }

1 Gen 1:27 (NIV)

2 Gen 2:18 (NIV)

3 Gen 2:23 (NIV)

Pledge of Nothing

 

하나.

i will never fully know who i am until:

                                                                     my breath strips away from me

                                                                     my tombstone makes its way to the graveyard

                                                                    ..idk man let’s just say i die (i won’t k ms, i swear!)

하나.

i will never fully know what:

                                                                    i like

                                                                    i hate

                                                                    movies will haunt my dreams and lace my nightmares

                                                                    music will tear me up (more like, fuck me up amirite)

하나.

i will never fully know:

                                                                    when to hold your hand

                                                                    when to let go of your hand

                                                                    when to wait until the sun dives over the horizon

                                                                    and when to leave as the moon floats away

                                                                    when to fall in love with writing

                                                                    and when to betray my dream that i deeply love

                                                                    I-scariot even kissed jesus before he turned his back

하나 ?

but what if

i never know:                                            what i feel

                                                                    before i kiss my darlings goodbye?

Koh AuthorPhoto.jpg

ALLISON KOH 

is a senior

majoring in English.

She loves translation

and its ability

to squeeze a message

out of words—

the same reason

she loves poetry.

FAVORITE SENTENCE: 

"Poetry is a forgiving medium for anyone who's had a strained relationship with English."

—from 

Minor Feelings: An Asian American Reckoning 

by Cathy Park Hong.

 

 

Tomato Sprouts

 

I grabbed a tomato and cut it for breakfast

and found a bunch of sprouts staring at me

Like I’m a Gulliver that slaughtered their red ceiling

and revealed a white kitchen sky.

First thought: what the fuck

is that?

Second thought: wait, so sprouts

actually grow inside its skin?

Third thought:

how did the tomato look so calm on the outside

when I tried to dissect it; it was still

very red, very fresh, and very as-it-was

but there they were,

gnawing the walls that contains them

banging their heads, yearning for exodus,

or perhaps preparing their own skyrocket

to blast it out, making a giant red splash

under the dusty, wooden shelves

so I am sorry, little young soldiers

that you may have dreamt of liberty

but you have only found

your doomsday—a girl with a knife

carelessly wrapping the walls with a translucent plasma

that ripples and wrinkles as your world thunders

only to throw away everything in the dark gutter

even when you find a way to survive

more and more wastes will crush you

until rot nibbles you away.

 

NAME Magazine UNIVERSITY AT BUFFALO 2026 

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