Screener Application
The screening team is responsible for reviewing and selecting poetry and prose submissions for admission to the journal. Accepted applicants will read student poetry and prose and work together to make their selections for publication. The screening team is led by the Prose and Poetry Editors, who delegate tasks and facilitate discussions and decisions. The screening team is best suited for those who love to critique writing and are interested in editorial or publishing work.
Name *
Your answer
Phone Number *
Your answer
Email *
Your answer
Classification *
Major *
Your answer
Do you meet the minimum 2.0 GPR requirement? *
Please assess the following piece of prose as you might in a meeting with your fellow screeners.
The grass was blue with frost. The road was so cold it rang as I stepped on it, and the houses and trees and sky were once flat black. A bird sang with a sound like someone scraping a pot, and was silent. I had given up all sensation to the discomforts of cold and haste and hunger, and crouched it far inside myself, still sleeping. Finally, Sylvie was in front of me, and I put my hands in my pockets, and tilted my head, and strode, as she did, and it was as if I were her shadow, and moved after her only because she moved and not because I willed this pace, this pocketing of the hands, this tilt of the head. Following her required neither will nor effort. I did it in my sleep.
Prose Assessment *
Your answer
Please assess the following poem as you might in a meeting with your fellow screeners.
If the hope of giving
is to love the living,
the giver risks madness
in the act of giving.

Some such lesson I seemed to see
in the faces that surrounded me.

Needy and blind, unhopeful, unlifted,
what gift would give them the gift to be gifted?
The giver is no less adrift
than those who are clamouring for the gift.

If they cannot claim it, if it is not there,
if their empty fingers beat the empty air
and the giver goes down on his knees in prayer
knows that all of his giving has been for naught
and that nothing was ever what he thought
and turns in his guilty bed to stare
at the starving multitudes standing there
and rises from bed to curse at heaven,
he must yet understand that to whom much is given
much will be taken, and justly so:
I cannot tell how much I owe.

Poetry Assessment *
Your answer
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