Dylan R. Ragas
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In summer I shed something / Something is Understood
Watch over my remains, will you, as I step from my reeling body, as I prepare to land, eyes open
Outside the Dollhouse / Proof of life
In the cooling air your face cracks open like a ceramic dish; you are insane, hungry, harmful,
It is All Half Lights* / Before Memorial Day
The androgynous mind sleeps, it is halting/halted, faulting/faulted —
Weaver’s Way / In Blue
And the ceilings are high, voices echo from two rooms over among arches and paneling. Dark water. A river, green and lapping in a distant country in which I’ve never stepped foot —
Arts Vanity: Four Historical Moments that Should Have Been Creep-ified
Four historical moments that I think would’ve benefited from Radiohead's “Creep” playing in the background.
Inherited / Northeast Regional
Inherited For somewhere, there’s a house that’s burning. An old man rambles how after a hard day of work the first thing
“Elite” Season 7 Review: All Glamor, No Grounding
After a promising and carefully-planned first three seasons, seasons four through six of “Elite” signaled the show’s definitive decline, and unfortunately, season seven seems poised to be the final nail in the coffin.
Absence / Siren
Dylan R. Ragas ’26’s column, “Yard Sale Organs,” is a collection of poems that attempt to make sense of a past — real, imagined, but mostly somewhere in between.
In Which We Finally Figure Out What The Fox Says: A 10-Year Retrospective
To psychologize the voice of another being is a lofty task, indeed.
