The campus was haunted and we all knew it. That summer we flinched around every corner, put our hands out in front of us when we turned off the lights.

‘When you climb the stairway, / don’t shield your eyes / from the pixels, 30 hertz heat— / don’t shield your awe / from the ghosts of pretty prey’

Jessica Hagedorn writes about the city of her birth, where “either nothing surprises you, or everything does.”