A poem by faculty member Connie Voisine appears in the New Yorker:

Messenger Star

The tree is dead, in my neighbor’s yard,
               the branches empty of leaves and the owl’s nest
naked and derelict it seems. We sat with

               our winter picnic and watched for the pair
who haunted our block. The male much smaller
               and loud, calling his dominion just after dark.

Continue reading online

Additionally, an essay titled “Via Dolorosa” by Voisine appears at AGNI.

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