The Paisano

Bad Driver

Image of heavy traffic on a highway.

Justice Lovin

May 20, 2018

They call it stick ‘cause it sticks; The gears whine as they grind and twist Entwined just fine until I try to shift. Shit. Was that third or fifth I think as I’m pitched Hit the wheel with my head And come up embarrassed But not dead yet. Heaving deep breaths to suppress The...

Rouge Noir

Rouge Noir

Sabrina Longoria

March 30, 2018

When the wolf skulked through the woods, Red betrayed not a single fear, though her curling fingers did tremble, Mother’s warnings grown constant in her ear. Be wary, my sweet, for you are never safe, not leaving our home alone, not smiling at “friendly” strangers, not enjoying...

Poetry slam encourages students to share their talent

The Poetry Slam Jam took place on a stage inside of the UC Ski Lodge. Samantha Ceballos, The Paisano

Samantha Ceballos

April 19, 2017

What is poetry? Is there a set definition for this art, or is that guy’s rap a poem? How about the girl venting about a serious issue? Poetry Slam Jam put the definition of poetry to test this past Thursday night as students came together to listen and exchange their own forms of the art. Poetry...

POETRY PAGES with Spanish for Heritage Learners

Photo Courtesy Eric Pitty

paisano.online1

December 17, 2016

A new and intuitive course — Spanish for Heritage Learners — led by Professor Lilian Cano from the Modern Languages department, has taken its place at UTSA. The course’s goal is to strengthen students’ pre-existing familiarity with spoken and/or written Spanish. The course, comparable to programs a...

Evening of poetry at The Twig

Andrea Velgis, The Paisano

Kevin Prichard

March 22, 2016

On Sunday, Jan. 31, The Twig Bookshop in The Pearl in downtown San Antonio had the privilege of hosting an “Evening of Poetry” with renowned poets: Director of the Trinity University Press, Barbara Ras, Poet-in-Residence Dr. Wendy Barker  and  professor of creative writing at UTSA, Pearl LeWinn. To ...

To the Woman at the Bus Stop

August 17, 2015

I can see it in your face. Cracks laced with troubles and years of struggle. With eyes full of regret, her ducts are of sorrow. From years of facial facets, crickets will forever interrupt the silence of others. Number 66 arrives, she doesn’t budge. Her arms...

Fourth annual ‘It Could Be Verse’ attracts UTSA readers and spectators

April 21, 2015

Marcus Connolly, The Paisano At a dinner event a few years ago, Creative Writing Professor Wendy Barker and Comparative Literature Professor Steven G. Kellman got to thinking: What would publicize the English department as well as promote literature? The result – It Could Be...

Waiting For Her

April 8, 2014

As I cling to a branch I watch as all of my brothers and sisters are suspended with me. Dawn approaches, the dewy droplets drip down my side while the light breeze sneezed. Paradise encloses around us as the bright sun turns off the dark and makes everything revisable. A ...

A la Primavera (To Spring)

February 25, 2014

A la Primavera (To Spring) Dear small birds, all of you perched Singing wildly free Your unfettered songs unrehearsed. Thank you for bringing lovely things to me! You see...winter got up and finally left. My feet touched the spring-touched floor. Joy is protected from theft. “Heart, extend. ...

Senseless

February 4, 2014

"Just hop in Lolita, and tell Sam the Man all your problems," Sam said, leaning out of his car window and unleashing a toothy smile. Sam and Whit have been best friends since Sam threw a live frog at Whit in second grade. Sam named his car Lolita because it's eleven-years-old and a tease; it neve...

Afternoon Mornings

January 28, 2014

Light taps, impatiently on the windowsill an unwelcome guest for bedroom activities Afternoon digestions avoid Recycled conversations Of weather and whether While silence breathes heavy Over Technicolor vapors Uninvited, the intruder seeps through the seams. faulty manifestations fade of sin...

As I Stand on the Shoulders of Lost Hopes

January 21, 2014

As I stand on the shoulders of lost hopes, I can see the dusk-colored peep hole In the horizon line of my sight. I hear deafening words and they start to mumble; I reach for the light but I feel the shoulders start to crumble. Deafening words like “can’t,” and “won’t,” ...