"Desert Wanderings" Vol. 13

36
Volume 13 2013

description

Published annually by Art Access, "Desert Wanderings" is a compilation of juried work from creative writing workshops, a community writing group, and public call for entries. Founded in 1984, Art Access is a community-focused, nonprofit organization that strives to share our philosophy of inclusion. The mission is to provide equal opportunities to inclusive arts programming for Utahns with disabilities and those with limited access to the arts. Programs are offered in the visual, literary, and performing arts. Included are gallery exhibitions, workshops, artist residencies, professional development, and community outreach.

Transcript of "Desert Wanderings" Vol. 13

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Volume 132013

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Desert Wonderings

Desert Wanderings literary magazine and literary arts workshops

are available through Art Access. Call 801-328-0703, option 5 for

more information.

Copyright 2013 Art Access

On the cover:Transcending Old Stories, ceramics,

by Dennise Gackstetter

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Desert Wonderings

About Desert Wanderings

Since 1996 Art Access has offered an annual series of creative writing

workshops, conducted by professional writers, for adults and teens with

disabilities. The program provides participants the opportunity to develop

and polish their writing skills and share their voices and perspectives.

Workshops are held at partner venues where individuals with disabilities

live or gather.

Compositions from workshops, and from a public call for entries for writers

with and without disabilities, are juried into this literary magazine, giving all

participating writers an opportunity to share their literary voices and stories

with people in the community.

Editor: Amanda K. Finlayson

Layout Designer: Richard E. Carter

Workshop Instructors:

Greg Near, Sara Caldiero-Orteli and Sadie Hoagland

Art Access would like to thank the following organizations for hosting literary

arts workshops for their clients between October 2012 and September 2013

Art Access’ Writers Edge Writing Group

TURN City Center for the Arts

Primary Children’s Wasatch Canyons Campus

Desert Wandering Literary Magazine Submissions:

Submissions should be emailed by September 15 of each year to amanda@

accessart.org with “WRITING SUBMISSION” typed into the subject line, along

with your age. Submissions can also be made anonymously (please indicate in

your email if this is your preference). Because of our diverse readership, we ask

that submitted content be publicly responsible.

Writers with and without disabilities are encouraged to submit. Questions? Visit

our website at www.accessart.org/desert-wanderings-literary-arts.

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Desert Wonderings

The Art Access Literary Arts program is made possible through the generous support of Salt Lake

County’s Zoo, Arts & Parks program, as well as funding from and partnerships with the following:

Salt Lake County Zoo, Arts & Parks

VSA/Kennedy Center

Utah Division of Art & Museums

Jarvis & Constance Doctorow Family Foundation

George S. and Dolores Doré Eccles Foundation

Salt Lake City Arts Council

The contents of the Desert Wanderings literary magazine do not necessarily represent

the views or policies of Art Access nor its patrons or funders, and endorsement of views

presented within should not be assumed.

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Table of ContentsLiterary Work

ADULT PERSPECTIVES & VOICES

Alchemy or In Other Worlds, by Casey Tracy............................7

Between the Folds , by Brooks Oscarson ...............................10

Briefly Passing , by Louis de Sully...........................................12

Turning , by Dennise Gackstetter..............................................13

Dying Green, by Katherine C. January....................................14

Girlish Dreams , by Bryn Ramjoue’...........................................15

Counting , by Shauna Brock.....................................................16

God of War , by Tara Carpenter................................................17

GAIA - Poem 1 rom XYZ-A Digital Poem ,

by Elizabeth Miklavcic................................................................18

GAIA - Poem 2 from XYZ - A Digital Poem,

by Elizabeth Miklavcic................................................................20

Seeing You , by Guil Funston....................................................22

Retirement, by Mark L. Smith..................................................22

Single American Daughter,

by Melissa Rasmussen...............................................................23

Genuflection, by Louis de Sully.................................................24

Loose Ends, by Brooks Oscarson..............................................25

Clean, by Brooks Oscarson........................................................26

One Two Three, by Casey Tracy................................................27

Wednesday, by Mark L. Smith .................................................30

A Perfect Leaf, by Bryn Ramjoue’.............................................30

The Borderline Mistake, by Louis de Sully................................31

Inversion, by Mark L. Smith ..................................................31

TEEN PERSPECTIVES & VOICES

Battling the Monster, by Michael Clarke...................................33

Ozzie Beam A poem about Arlington National Cemtery,

by Elizabeth Quatrale ...............................................................34

What I Think, by Delanna Brock-Murray....................................35

Rap Song, by Chantelle Thomas..............................................36

Morning Glory, by Bryn Ramjoue’.............................................37

Table of ContentsArtwork

Fractal, Textured Glass, By Keaton Buck8

Bad Wolf, Collage, By Emma Ringwood 9

Family Tree, Charcoal & Paste, By Robin Eliason11

Mixed Media, Assemblage, By Inna Findlay12

Fractal, Textured Glass, By Keaton Buck14

Medical School, Degradée, By Phil Cannon15

Pioneer Girl, Watercolor on Paper, By Lisa K. Jacobsen16

Monster Brawl I, Claymation Film Characters & Set, By Brett Ross 17

Epic Noise Wall, Fused Glass, By Keaton Buck 21

Ramona’s Letter, Collage, By Mazilyn Davis22

Nativity Studies, Pastel, By Joanne Robbins24

The Carpool, Acrylic on Panel, By Madison Lewis26

Keys to the Galaxy, Assemblage, By Isabella Perkins30

Ancestors, Assemblage, By Marisa Jaskowski32

Monster Brawl II, Claymation Film Characters & Set, By Brett Ross 33

Shadow Realm , Collage, By Claire Melton 35

Badass Boy, Stained Glass, By Maddie Flavin36

Keys to the Galaxy, Assemblage, By Isabella Perkins37

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Desert Wonderings 7

Alchemy or In Other Worlds

by Casey Tracy

Poetry is breathing, writing beckons, ideas and thoughts gleaming along the edges of day,

a moment on a saffron afternoon yearning to be stark naked on a page,

Diving into the work, wandering the interior landscape of memory,

weaving my way around pre-mammalian stones,

ancient rocks colored gray as fog lifts across the Viking Sea,

Before I was born the apples of these stones were carved into my cheekbones,

to recall and relive timelessness at each glance in the mirror,

So the Holy Ones would recognize me, as One, as Muse, as Artist;

as fine silver cleaved, split, a splinter shard taken from Changing Woman’s body,

Sometimes I forget; releasing self and body, falling into transparency,

watching edges vanish, disappearing into hidden worlds reflected in

the faucet while I bathe.

Disassociation shimmering inside fragile encasement of flesh,

I take flight, clumsy fingers unable to grasp,

skimming white balloon string trailing behind,

I become the fat drop of sweat perched on the exquisite plume of your eyelash;

see our two skins evaporating, limbs flowing like honey,

separateness blurred beyond recognition,

I am your deep exhale of a thousand wars,

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FractalTextured GlassBy Keaton Buck

Carving a space for you to live in me completely,

we breathe the pomegranate’s desire to stain your mouth, my fingers;

in the long pauses I often wonder

the Divine and I remember my lineage,

bloodline traced back to when Time began,Leaving, packing my car, driving to the desert; in search of the ancient and sacred, of Spider Woman and the feminine

at once Navajo, Greek, Egyptian, & Unnamable;

muses who create the world, who inspire

in fits of gilded, smoky laughter as they hold mirrors reflecting the light,Standing at canyon’s edge, before her front door once more,

collarbone beseeching at Spider Rock, ferociousness comes to rest;

giant, panting paws no longer in need,In a moment of recognition leaping into the middle of the stone tower,

present human condition dissolving as mica,

into seeds planting the earth,

into the fissure of fine silt dissipating on the tongue of water’s edge,

I take my place in the circle,

Amongst goddesses, ancestors, deities who sit around the fire dreaming up the world,

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“Listen to the details of Existence,”

in rolling plumes of timbre, they speak of lovers, giving birth to human children, how they also mothered Music, the earth, the Moon,

imagined stars into being; I learn the history and semiology of visions

before words ate our hearts, when dreams still dreamed within themselves,I glow in celebration of the succinct instance of perfect integration,

a holy moment of freedom, of internal marriage,

split seconds of intuition fell mid-flight in one bird’s swoop;

licked, charred, smoldering wound’s evaporation into inspiration,

witnessing my own reflection in a crescendo of jazz,Once I sat with Cleopatra, lost in the language of each fine gesture,

her simplicity of movement belying a lavish, brewing symphony;

she was a shaman, shape-shifter too, traveling across all time and space, We spoke of what really happened behind closed doors;

she told us of feasting, eating, consuming the snakes,

of woman and serpent turning upon themselves, the vastness of infinite night, until Ouroboros was created;Becoming one with Herself, beyond human sex,

so that she might transform and come home.Bad WolfCollageBy Emma Ringwood

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Between the folds of sex and drugslie bitter dreams & long lost hugsand memories like garden snakestoo quick to grab, too slick to takeand times that I wish to recallbut have lost through the haze of it allbetween the folds of sex and drugssit crying kids and stained, red rugsand girls in bathtubs, puking, cryingan innocent face we know is lying

Between the folds of here and thereare empty towns and soft nowheresand grocery bags with broken tongueslike tobacco heads with ruined lungsand ugly secrets left unsaidbodies breathing, though they’re deadbetween the folds of here and therelie reasons why this life’s unfairjust like some notes without their keysit’s better off if we’d just leave

Between the folds of love and hatesit crying kids, and parents lateand broken bones with strings attachedopen eggs with birds unhatchedand lovers tangled in each othertheir barren skin their only coverbetween the folds of love and hateperch tiny demons at your wakeand at the core we find our fearthat we ignore in all these tears

between the folds of you and Ithere hides those million old-age lieswe see the hurt, ignore the painhold on to something sure as rainan ocean occupies this spaceand hollowly I plead my casebetween the folds of you and Irest issues that we’ll try to hideand whomever you chose to blameno, they still won‘t have a name

between the folds of fire and icelay victims of your sordid vicelike fallen angels screaming hoarsebroken lab rats follow their coursea passion that we deem too fierce a distance that we cannot piercebetween the folds of fire and icewe find that each soul has a priceand every person can be boughtno matter what else you’ve been taught

between the folds of wrong and righti’ll realize I feel no more spitejust emptiness that keeps me wholeas my starvation keeps me fulland darkened corners where they’ll prayto be forgiven one more daybetween the folds of wrong and rightrests the sting of falling flightand children weep with eyes so widewe tell ourselves perhaps we tried

Between the Folds by Brooks Oscarson

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Family TreeCharcoal & Pastel

By Robin Eliason

between the folds of good and best

are motions we put to the test

a numbness filling us with greed

an aching we feel to succeed

a life alone full of self-hate

whispers, voices that can’t wait

between the folds of good and best

lay tired stars that cannot rest

their glow is dull, fame subsiding

eyes are closing, smiles widen

between the folds of life and death

lay kids in gutters holding their breath

and fallen roses, watch them cry

like tiny infants, live or die

you’ll hold me through this tragedy

in order to reveal my malady

between the folds of life and death

we stand with skulls so like Macbeth

we hold on tight to something small

and hope this life was worth it all

between the folds of always and forever

are fumbled words like gone and never

and hopes are dashed so lightning fast

we can’t remember what has passed

one day we’re laughing, now I cry

you stare so hard you don’t know why

between the folds of always and forever

rest promises sure as the weather

and reasons why I’m too blind to see

that this was written for you and me

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Briefly Passing, by Louis de Sully

Sebastian was born of a book

orange and ordinary

the lop eared pageswith a 70 year old musk

And a note to a friend:

Yet She was born of sensual music

In the world of dance

and happenstancea Master to herself

And when they met

They paused, sharing the infinite moment;

and in their perception she saw the world as he did

--just briefly--

but the flash came like silent lightning

with no evidence of its happening

save the charge in the air.

July 13, 1946

It can’t be as futile as we think --

when Spinoza having led the life he did

can write a philosophy like this.

Congratulations you Master, you.

Mixed MediaAssemblage

By Inna Findlay

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Turning by Dennise Gackstetter

His back was the side I knew of him best.When he didn’t knowwhat to do or to say, he’d turn his back and walk away. He hid his awkwardness in the turn,putting it in his pocket like keys.With the smallest shrug of his shoulders, and hidden hands, he’d turn away and set himself free.

I did not recognize it then.I just thought he didn’t care,that other things were more important than my small child joysor adolescent fear.

Travelling in opposite directions we moved, forward and back, apart and awayThe canyon grew wider with each passing day.

I know the texture of inadequacy

when my heart and tongue feel bound and tied.

My body knows it in the sag of shoulders,

the glance to one side,

the thick choking silence of unformed words.

Then the sigh of relief in the escape of turning,

and the freedom found in the first long stride.

It isn’t about not loving.

No, it’s about loving too much and knowing too little

how to express what you feel that is longing inside.

No confidence, no faith, no trusting your knowing.

Only fear, which is certain that you will fail when you try.

No one but you can understand this secret,

this understanding we share in turning away.

Love reaches far back across the long memory

its touch a healing, one small embrace.

An offering to tell you that it’s finally okay

that I love you in spite of your awkward way.

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Dying Green by Katherine C. January

leaves take on color

before they drop to the ground,

before the trees stand empty

gold or red or even leathery brown

the sun itself is stored in each leaf burst

burning first on darkened limbs then

letting go one night

in wind, in cold

even then, the color lingers

bright against the ground

brighter still in the chill of rain

revived in the ice of after-puddles

we are ready for the dying now

we have lived with gold, with crimson,

and color settles in deeper than the cold

One year, without warning, the order falters

leaves fall green without changing,

leaves die green on the branch of

the walnut tree

FractalTextured GlassBy Keaton Buck

that year we turn old without meaning to

unready for the winter we ache

for the shimmer of maples

flaming and dying with proper glory

trees burning on in our souls

against the days which darken by four

against the years which turn without gold

color a memory cradled in puddles

color a crunching in the orchard

as we pass...

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Girlish Dreams

by Bryn Ramjoue’

The silent moment before I hear your voice again is full of anticipation,

of stories unshared, connections waiting to be made, of hope.

The space between words yet spoken is sad with sighing breath

Not like I imagine the comfort of your breathing in the hour before dawn,

more like the windy night. Awaiting adventure, mystery, chaos, whirling

beautifully; like a leaf dance.

Girlish dreams

Cursive initials on lined paper

Heart-rimmed names. Where is our tree?

Our dedicated trunk defying time and fear.

Silence succeeds and defies hope.

Cold careful, what price isolation?

Worthy of you, not me.

What price adoration? Unending generosity.

What price giving? Whole of heart, generous in spirit,

warmth of self worth,

...Undying hope.

Medical SchoolDegradéeBy Phil Cannon

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1, 2, 4, 10 Lines splash on pavement, Separating roads into lanes into miles To exits and streets With houses with numbers Boxes and boxes within boxes

5 bedrooms 4 bathrooms 3 children 2 parents 1 dog Equals the perfect family. 3,5,7 miles round trip 400-foot elevation change 10 toes crammed into 2 shoes 1 step, 1 foot, each after the other

- Or is it before?

6 handholds for 10 fingers on 2 hands All

On 1 body

Taking steps on ancient rock Slick with water and memory And time, time that ticks on As the Earth rotates once On its axis every 24 hours as it revolves Around the sun in 365 days

Pioneer Girl

Watercolor on PaperBy Lisa K. Jacobsen

Giving life to 7 billion people

Who worship 7 billion gods and create

7 billion families As they walk in lanes 1 foot in front of the other

While rivers wash behind

Erasing their equations.

Counting by Shauna Brock

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The heat the rage, the wildness of it allIt must have been exciting.

Seeing the bright reds of battlebanners flying and hearts enflamedrighteous anger vindicatedas brilliant blood was spilled

It must have been thrilling.

Hearing discordant symphoniesof metal clanks, armor over fleshof drumming hearts and victory criesas foe fell, demolished

It must have been stirring.

While it lasted.I wonder, if you had stayed...

If you had seen the new palette of redsof mouths gaping wide, howling with painof eyes swollen from tears long cried outdeep wounds that will not heal

Would it sour your taste for the color?

If you had heard all those heart-wrenching cries of devastated souls left behind wondering how to move on alone weeping into pillows

Would you have wept, too?

Gods come and go as they please.Mortals stay to bear the price.

Growing bored, your thoughts turn to the next glorious battle.

God of War, by Tara Carpenter

Monster Brawl IClaymation Film Characters & Set

By Brett Ross

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Desert Wonderings 18

Where did you come from?

Where did I?

At first there was nothing.

Do I have something to say?

How do letters and numbers typed in

sequence create something?

Mean something?

Birthed?

I appear and disappear.

Hear my message before I am gone.

Listen.

What are you doing here? You’re not

supposed to be here. You’re a thought bubble.

An apparition.

GET OFF THIS SCREEN. GO BACK TO

WHERE YOU BELONG.

Invisible to visible.

Aren’t you daring.

How dare you. Dare.

Take a dare.

Hide a layer.Add a filter.A MASK! That will do it!

Mask it out. Wear a mask.

With a click, a moment is captured.

The light and the shadow play

tricks with color, using

infinitesimal shapes. A

choreography of placement.

How incredible that the talents

of a group of people working

together, enable me to express a

perception. They enable me to

create. I am so grateful for the

enablers.

The moment I saw.

Arrested

Does it move you?

Does it speak to you?

Does it give you a sense of place?

Do you want to go there?

Let’s share it.

Let’s share in it together.

A common experience. Common ground.

GAIA - Poem 1from XYZ-A Digital Poem, by Elizabeth Miklavcic

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Desert Wonderings 19

Travel with me. In XYZ space.

Become a transient on digital

railroad tracks.

Pull the sheet over your shoulders

and wrap up.

The data is due.

The deadline is here.

I walk that line, uninhibited by

gravity. I float.

It is freedom.

Absolute.Freedom to go where I choose.

When I choose.

I am round. Spinning on multiple

planes. A container. Holding many

thoughts. Your protector. You exist

only because I am here for you.

I hold you. Spinning in multiple

directions. To keep you here. To

keep you grounded.

As you walk on me in XYZ space.

Remember that you are a part of me.

As I am a part of you. What you

create can bring life, or cause

destruction.

You have the power.

I am at your mercy.

It is utterly and totally

frightening to be so vulnerable.

What will you do with that power?

Flick off the switch.

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Desert Wonderings 20

Go back to the drawing board and

find the appropriate thought.

I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY!

Can you hear it?

Easter eggs of letters picked up

and placed in a basket. A jumble

sale. Randomly assembled. By an

unknown source. Strong enough to

crack the shell of a consonant or a

vowel. Lying there. Broken with

the meaning leaking out.

Step in the puddle. Make a splash.

Leave a footprint in the sands of

time.

Salt crystals glisten as rays of

light hit them with full force.

Unknowingly, it seems, they can

also glisten with a light touch.

See the reflection out of the

corner of your eye?

A gentle stroke.

A caress.Shining either way.

Perception depends on awareness.

And the ability of the receiver to

receive.

A stream of consciousness. Joining

the rushing river. Rapids, white

water and whirlpools will pull you

under and hold you down if you let

them.

Dodge the sinking. Keep on paddling

to the open ocean where it all ends

up. A pool of life. The pull of

life. From the highest mountain to

the deepest canyon in the sea.

I am round and all cycles around.

You will rise again.

Evaporate and float.

GAIA - Poem 2

from XYZ - A Digital Poem, by Elizabeth Miklavcic

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Tumbling, swirling joined by so

many more. Until one day, when it

becomes too crowded, when there are

too many voices speaking at once;

separation is necessary and a new

journey begins.

Epic Noise Wall

Fused Glass

By Keaton Buck

The impact from falling and

connecting is deafening.

Death brings life.

Sucked up by a new root.

A new color.

A juicy bite.

Turned into electrical bytes.

A new force. A new form. A new

beginning.

Recycled.

Over and over again.

But we don’t remember.

We just ride the wave, and

hopefully, one day, it will all

come together.

It will all connect.

And we will know why we are here.

Why this thing called life means

anything.

At all.

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Retirement by Mark L. Smith

Last days riding train inbound Train rocks with authority taking meTo my destiny, my new life, my life without Work, my end.

Ramona’s LetterCollage

By Mazilyn Davis

I saw you the first time a

week or two after we met. Inside you

a scream was building,

pulling me towards your past,

asking me if I was the one

to be there when you woke.

I wanted to say yes, it’s me, but

you had heard it before, repetitions of

lies and pain. So the question was

never asked, but I answered, I was.

I have been and will be. I answered

the silent scream, and I saw you for

the first time.

I held you in my spirit’s arms and smoothed

Your hair and rubbed your back and said,

I am here when you wake, to ease

the pain to a quieter place, where

the scream is a whisper. Embracing your

pain, it becomes mine and you watch

me seeing you for the first time.

Pain eases and is shared, to be

diluted between us. The future is

there again and the whisper will fade

to a feeling sometimes remembered.

A life shared, not torn. A promise

always kept, always renewed. A

scream for pleasure, not pain. Always

I will see you for the first time.

Seeing You by Guil Funston

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Desert Wonderings 23

My name is not mine

It belongs to my father

Seems he owns me simply because I’m his daughter

But his name is not mine

It is my father’s

Not my Mother’s

But his and his and his and his and his

And if someday I wed

I’d be asked keep his or take his instead

Not mine Or hersNever hersAnd if I broke the norm to take my mother’s

Love him though I did

It was hisHer father’s

Not hers or hers or hers or hers or hers

How many generations must be

Before a name is washed clear of the he?

Did Eve have a name that was ever her own?

JohnsonThompsonGustafsonJones?

Single American Daughter

by Melissa Rasmussen

Was there ever a woman or man named Evedaughter?

Was there ever a woman not named for a father?

I am uncomfortable in this skin

It is mine

But bears the name of him

And him and him and him and him

It does not belong here

But no other does either

So I belong fully to neither

Myself

Or him

I know not MY name

So can’t speak the word that would free me

And even though we share a gender

I bear no name that reflects my mother

Or maybe…if honest…I do

I do bear something other

Like she

I bear his disdain

His hurt

Anger

PainShe smiles, but he’s broken

He damns himself

As well as this frame

Perhaps that’s why women

don’t bear their own name

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Desert Wonderings 24

It seems we’re expected

To bear instead ShameA bruise on our body

A tear in our soul

And pass on that name

And never feel whole

Or one with ourselves

One with Earth Mother

Always bearing the name of the other

Mankind.

***

We are woman born of woman

Yet marked by man

Claiming usMaking us lessNever equal

Never at restIt’s time that we stopped playing the game

I think it past time

We should bear our own name.

Nativity StudiesPastel

By Joanne RobbinsGenuflection, by Louis de Sully

I always see him with his sturdy frame, posed against the concrete looking to the west with sea dog eyes. If I smoked I would take a drag just like that. It reminds me of my Grandmother and her prayerful repose. She told me she saw God out there – The hills. The trees. The lights. Everything. Instead of going to church, her Sabbath was to look on Los Gatos with her cigarette as sacrament.

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Loose Ends, by B

rooks

Oscarso

n

I wish

I could for

get

Our first,

our la

st.

Annihilate o

ur pull

toward

one a

nother.

I wish

I could era

se

Memory

, preciou

s mem

ory

(of all

the th

ings my m

ind’s forg

otten

it can’t s

eem to

forget y

ou).

Now yo

u’re one s

tate o

ver

Many miles

away;

And we have

n’t talk

ed in months

But I can

’t forget y

our skin, yo

ur face

Now I g

uess yo

u never sh

ut your e

yes

Because

I see th

em all

the ti

me.

You lef

t without sa

ying good

bye

One too m

any tim

es.

(these

loose

ends are

killing me)

I wish I knew your heart

Were you protecting me

By forcing us apart?

All this damage I’ve done already…

I wish I’d grow used to the pain

But it’s never the same

Knowing that you’re far away

Should keep me in my place.

But as my window’s slick with rain

I wonder if you can say the same.

Knowing your location

Doesn’t seem to ease the pain.

There’s simply no relationship

If I never say your name.

What’s the absence of relation?

Because we met

and loved

and left

There must be a word or phrase

Something to explain

The love and the abandonment

It has to have a name

(these loose ends are killing me)

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Desert Wonderings 26

The Carpool

Acrylic on Panel

By Madison Lewis

Clean by Brooks Oscarson

The way we fit together,

it’s like nothing I’ve ever known.

It’s more than a cliché,

you’re more than just my home.

There was another time in my life:

I was broken, lost, confused.

I was led into the shadows

and I left them feeling used.

Beyond a broken puzzle,

beyond some shattered glass,

I was frozen by the pain

and couldn’t bear to relive the past.

There were too many drugs

and an abundance of pain.

I had no self-respect,

I had forgotten my own name.

I was told that I would die,

I didn’t care until you.

I was told that I was sick,

but I had nothing to lose.

When we met, my life grew

and I promised I’d go slow.

But in life, and in love

there’s so much I didn’t know.

The way your smile hits your eyes

The way your nose curves at the tip,

The way your tattoos tell a story,

And on your chin, that little dip.

That’s why nothing compares to you,

you saved me from my life

There’s no cliché clichéd enough,

you’re more than just my light.

The way your arms fit tight

around me,

The way our shadows breathe

There are no more demons

lurking close because you made

them leave.

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Desert Wonderings 27

One Two Three, by Casey Tracy

ONEIt was the season of mangoes and her favorite year on this earth.

Summer burned hot and lush, photographic images of glorious lovers, a childhood spent roasting in the sun, long since

dead and gone, flickered and flashed on the silent film screen of her mind.

Had she stayed, by persuasion or compulsion, in one of the doorways of the past, tucked safely into shady alleyways, life

would be a flat, one-seeded existence.

Instead the world gave birth, promise lay rich and heavy in the air she breathed, unfurled from her fingertips onto that

which she touched. Potent and ripe, each tree she passed beckoned, laden with fruit.

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Desert Wonderings 28

TWO

it was the season of mangoes

of glorious lovers

of childhood spent roasting

of long since dead

and gone

and flickered

and flashed

sun.

had she stayed

HAD SHE STAYED

in the silent film screen

in the tucked shady alleyway

had she

in doorway silent

stayed

hot and lush

like a photographic image

of childhood

long since burned

like an image

of glorious lovers

tucked

safely

tucked

had in her mind

life would be flat.

The season of mangoes

the season of summer

instead the season of birth

the season of it was instead

The

world

GAVE

BIRTH!

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Desert Wonderings 29

Instead heavy promise lay rich instead unfurled

each tree

fingertips lay rip

e instead she

beckoned

breathed from her fingertips

each fruit

breathed

instead she touched

hot and lush

she breathed

the world.

THREE

hot and

lush

birth

unfurled…

an ancient man sprung forth

inch by inch,

mile by mile,

standing in nowhere,

off the side of the road,

clutching a treasure

in his gnarled hand

shape shifting

she became a palomino,

a spotted horse lying in red dust

peeking lazily through clumps of grass

moist nuzzle coy with earth’s powder,

wonder

falling as plump raisins from the sky

in the midst of the desert

the raven thinks of love

holding, peckin

g, skipping,

churning and cluckin

g,

throat so

unds knockin

g

like dry bone wood

thumping, ro

lling beat,

a staccato sound

of feet and cla

ws

ticking against th

e atlas of the world.

fat echoes

stre

tched taut

a buoy upon the flatness of th

e land

a canvas

a slate

a drum

weathered, oily speckle

d skin

across h

er eye.

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Desert Wonderings 30

A Perfect Leaf, by Bryn Ramjoue’

A perfect leaf

Has a season, many seasons

The autumn voice, an owl

Summer winds cacophony

Chance and rage stand no ground

Length of root, neither bravery nor folly

Reach of branch belies natures’ strength

Keys to the GalaxyAssemblage

By Isabella Perkins

Wednesday, by Mark L. Smith Wednesday Tireds, eyes heavy with sleep And unspent dreams; Train rocking and rocking and socking me in the

...Eye.

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Desert Wonderings 31

The Borderline Mistake

by Louis d

e Sully

If forgiven

ess ab

ounds misperce

ived slig

hts

when we see th

e world through can

dle-light.

Then it is th

at we ig

nore the lie

s

when we see th

e world through rose-c

olored eye

s.

So shouldn’t it follow that t

he opposite

is true?

That we fi

ll words se

en with the voice

of another?

or upend meaning with some n

arrowed ap

erture?

Naked tru

th is hard

est to disco

ver

when the one in

the way i

s yoursel

f

and not some o

ther.

Inversion by Mark L. Smith

Cold days, winter ways,

yellow air poison haze

waits patiently for the next storm

to scrub the valley’s atmosphere away

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Desert Wonderings 32

Teens WritingPoems, prose & phrases

Battling the Monster by Michael Clarke................................

33

Ozzie Beam A poem about Arlington National Cemetery,

by Elizabeth Quatrale................................

............................34

What I Think by Delanna Brock-Murray...............................

..35

Rap Song by Chantelle Thomas..............................

..............36

Morning Glory by Bryn Ramjoue’...............................

..........37

AncestorsAssemblage

By Marisa Jaskowski

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Desert Wonderings 33

Battling the Monster

by Michael Clarke

Tick tock, creeping in my mind now.

Sadly, my depression rising.

How do I fight this feeling inside me?

Growling, gaping, trying to consume me.

How effective is this twig,

When what I really need is a sword.

Mother, Father, Brother, Friend.

Who do I turn to before the end?

Suddenly, I feel, waking inside of me,

Who I was truly meant to be.

I find my sword buried in the stone.

Slashing, fighting, trying to defeat the foe.

Combating my every movement,

The beast rears and throws me wide.

Shakily, I rise from the ground,

Take my stance and go again.

Endlessly the battle rages.

When will this suffering end?

Like a ghost this haunts me.

But, I will eventually win.

Plunge my blade into its side

Releasing the hate pent up inside.

Finally, I’ll be truly free

From this beast inside of me.

Monster Brawl IIClaymation Film Characters & Set

By Brett Ross

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Desert Wonderings 34

79th Battalion, 12th Division

Ozzie Beam.

I remember the name

Because I thought it was funny.

It isn’t though, because that name

Only lived 32 years

And now it’s dead

On stone.

The leaves fall like paratroopers

With no control but the wind

And the tombs are lined for battle

Identical in looks. Identical in fates.

The air is weighed down by silence

Like the world took a breath

And its lungs are screaming for air

But no breath can come.

Perched on top of a marble column

Sits a cardinal surveying his troops

And despite the beauty of his red breast

I still shoot

But he flies away before the

Camera can capture him.

The loud birds are screeching

Yelling angrily

To drown out the silent voices of death

Screeching to try and ignore the faces

Staring lifelessly up

Faces of soldiers

Known but to God

Who had stories of their own

And lives and lovers of their own

That we will never know

Because those secrets

Died on their tongues before they

could be spoken

And now they are buried in the ground

Still perched on the young boys lips

Waiting for someone to ask

So the secrets can grow

Through the earth like flowers

And bloom for us to pick.

If only the ground could speak

Oh, the stories you could tell.

Oh, the stories we can’t hear.

Ozzie Beam A poem about Arlington National Cemetery

by Elizabeth Quatrale

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Desert Wonderings 35

This world is messed up in the core,

cuz so many things are happening.

Sometimes we just wanna give the world

to the people we love right now.

I’m too scared, cuz the world is loco

with li’l “antis” running around.

But we can’t just give up the one

and only chance we have.

Go ahead, push yourself to the limit.

Don’t give up.

What’s the whole point of trying

or even starting,

when you can’t finish it.

All we wanna do is have a good time,

what’s gone wrong with this world?

Happy, but it backfires

cuz we just push them away.

Mamas, we love you,

but you’re gone out of the house

for most of the hours.

I can’t tell what’s going on with me.

I wish.

What I Think, by Delanna Brock-Murray

I wish I could have left a note

on the door, telling you

how much I love you.

But, you’d just ignore it.

And, when you yell,

I just wanna leave.

Shadow Realm

Collage

By Claire Melton

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Desert Wonderings 36

Badass BoyStained Glass

By Maddie Flavin

Rap Song

by Chantelle Thomas

Each day that keeps coming

I sit on this couch

and keep waiting

It feels like I’m waiting for nothing

But, I know my family loves me

I’m making myself better

My mom, she’s hurting,

but I cant’ sta

nd to sit

on this couch and listen

to her cry all these years

I’ve been trying to understand

It feels like there’s nothing

here for me

But, I know there is m

y little

baby-sister, watching everything

and I want to help her,

so she doesn’t make the same

mistakes I’ve made

It only hurts my mom more

to see what her kids are doing

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Desert Wonderings 37

Keys to the GalaxyAssemblage

By Isabella Perkins

Morning Glory by Bryn Ramjoue’

Give as fully as the morning glory

The daylily blooms once

Datura’s night poison

Loves dark side

Betrayal