The Columbia Review Spring 2020

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the columbia review

Poetry, like bread, Janelle Effiw att

is for rich people as it turns out. In last night’s episode, we find Scooby-Doo in competition for the inheritance of a dead landlord. The task: spend A Night of Fright in his ghoulish mansion. In act two, the other heirs go missing, the Phantom Shadows are weightless but still disturbing. Like all that’s missing is a spooky organ! What happens when the language won’t exist you into it? Scooby, last to remain, opens the will to reveal that Poetics, as it stands, is a legitimately inaccessible venture— the written story trailing always behind

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