Check out our exhibition in front of the library and borrow books from our curated display (or browse our collection to find the authors you like most).
This year we’re also celebrating Stephanie Pacheco, a BMCC student and the 2024-2025 National Youth Poet Laureate, whose poem “Dear CUNY” we’re feeling especially inspired by. Read her poem below or see her read it on youtube. Happy reading!
Dear CUNY
By Stephanie Pacheco
Dear community college,
I can’t talk about you
Without a train rattling the earth in the background.
Without the post-class hangout spot coming into the conversation
I can’t paint your graceful portrait
Without the mention of
The campus lawns we lay on
That hold us warm in our presence,
And write of us in our absence
I can’t talk about you
Without mentioning our mascot
I met him in the gym once
At a club fair.
And it was insane.
A larger-than-life panther,
A body composed of the spirit of all of our beating hearts.
Our mascot the breakdancer,
the once in a blue moon guest star appearance.
Dear community college,
You taught me the art of learning how to fall asleep anywhere
In lounge chairs
On the 2 train
On my homework.
You taught me the art of making any place
My home.
Dear community college,
I want to tell you about my mom
Who dreamt of attending a college like mine
Who told me when I walked on my campus,
to whisper to the hallways and ask if they remembered her.
Who told me if the bathroom tiles forget her name,
If the chalkboards told me they cannot pronounce the syllables of her body,
Then I must be the one to carry her memory like lecture.
My school,
Of impossible nostalgia
Dear community college,
You taught me about how beautiful the city is when it sleeps
The brightest galaxies in the sky are our city lights
When they replace the sun,
Nothing is between us and the future,
No plane of existence can swallow me here.
This is for the professors who taught me how to laugh in a classroom
Who in me saw a dream.
Who said don’t nobody got anything on us.
Said envision the world I want and be bold enough to write it.
Who gave me printed versions of their syllabus
to write my poems on the back of
Dear CUNY,
I don’t know of any other school that runs its city like you
That paints its town with its face
like you
Everywhere I turn, every building is a student
Every train car is a classroom
CUNY students are the real mayor of New York
Every leader I need already lives in me
Every philosopher I know wears a tote bag and hangs out at my library
My favorite scriptures are those I have to reserve
Using my school library’s website.
This is for my librarians
You know, sometimes I ignore the emails
about my overdue books
They tell me I renew too often.
They actually tell me I haven’t renewed my loan at all.
But at least the only loan I’ve acquired
Is at my school library
The only debt I owe is to them.
To you all, the magnificent holders of knowledge
You all, who remind me to dream like our city lights.
To be that kind of impossible.
To the impeccable cleaning staff and cafeteria chefs,
The people who built pyramids in Egypt,
Modeled their precision after you.
I thank you for your hands.
I thank you for what they have created for me to live in.
You know, I remember
When it would be 11pm and the only thing between me and my sleep
Was an essay that I knew I wouldn’t do if I went home.
It would just be us on the entire campus.
Just me and these folks who made everything they touched shine,
Who are responsible for the creation of stars.
This poem is for everything that keeps a boat floating
For the makers and shakers
For the thinkers,
The dreamers,
For those of us who dare.
For everyone whose parents bet their life on the ocean between their homelands and here,
And prayed for children on the way
For those who live by train tracks,
In the spaces below coming and going,
Who bet their lives on possible destinations
For those of us who are determined
To create a colosseum in the collective
For those of us who write, and sing, and study, dance, build, teach, care, and love Like our breath depend on it
Because they do
We are no one’s lower class
We are nobody’s other
Come join me in the sanctuary we’ve got for now
In our classroom turned temple
We’ve got work to do.