after awhile, but he'd never been able to. Such repul— sive creatures they were , with only two arms and two legs, ghastly white skins and no scales. J Ermon L. Deen UNCONSCIO USLY CONSCIO US Sylvia certainly you see I cannot catch the can Of moldy mice that missed me As round the room I ran. The... Show moreafter awhile, but he'd never been able to. Such repul— sive creatures they were , with only two arms and two legs, ghastly white skins and no scales. J Ermon L. Deen UNCONSCIO USLY CONSCIO US Sylvia certainly you see I cannot catch the can Of moldy mice that missed me As round the room I ran. The solid square surrounding me Hangs hollow by my head And brings the buzzing of the bee Back to the bubbling bed. Dandelions are drifting down Finally falling to fox's fur His teeth are taller than the town Bob, bring the basketball, brrrr! Carolyn Jone s 13 Show less
AUTUMN GHOSTS I I walk the woods in solitude in autumn's smoky haze, And thrOugh the leaves of brown and gold, proud Red Men go their ways: A phantom draws a bowstring, and a phantom deer leaps high, And phantom hunters raise aloud their wild, ghostly cry. But when I try to follow them, to join... Show moreAUTUMN GHOSTS I I walk the woods in solitude in autumn's smoky haze, And thrOugh the leaves of brown and gold, proud Red Men go their ways: A phantom draws a bowstring, and a phantom deer leaps high, And phantom hunters raise aloud their wild, ghostly cry. But when I try to follow them, to join them in the chase. They fade in shadow, steal away, then run again their race. And I again am left alone, among the darkened trees , Yet hear a faint and haunting cry, borne back on autumn breeze . Julie Medbery 14 Show less
THE WINDOW The streets on the East Side are narrow — very narrow. Second Avenue is not only narrow, but :sinister in appearance. Few would venture to stroll along these long shadowy pavements , especially after dark. When night seeps down through the spaces :between the buildings, the streets are... Show moreTHE WINDOW The streets on the East Side are narrow — very narrow. Second Avenue is not only narrow, but :sinister in appearance. Few would venture to stroll along these long shadowy pavements , especially after dark. When night seeps down through the spaces :between the buildings, the streets are checkerboards of light and dark, reflecting stars and lamp posts , Among the 10,000 dwellers of Second Avenue :there was one - one who had watched, listened and thought about his neighborhood. Yes , here , at his front window he had watched the overwhelming growth of boredom explode, inciting struggle and revenge. Angelo was not one of the gang. Back in High School he had been interested in music - taken several walks down to the Village to gaze at the many paintings which lined the streets in the spring and early fall, But lately it was as though he had resolved to concern himself with the gangs - or even more strongly, had decided to leave the city and find the freedom his thoughts craved“ And so, almost by compulsion, his interests had widened. He wanted to see everything — everything! St. Dominick was his home church. It was an ancient picture of Gothic strength. The windows were huge , multi—colored, giving the inspiration needed for times of contemplation, Angelo spent much time here within the cloistered walls of peace“ Each time the power of peace settled itself in his mind, he would go home, determined to speak to the gang, to try to help. But something hindered him, At times, as he watched the gang in action, there was a cancerous force within him, restraining him from movement or speech. He had known for a long time what that force was -- fear. What else could it be, he had questioned, that could stop him from saying something? 15 Show less
Now late evening, Angelo sat at the front window watching the darkness below. He could not sleep. So, in desperation he had pulled up the large easy chair by the window and tried to relax. He wished the quiet of the city would lull him into sleep. But as he sat here uneasiness took hold.... Show moreNow late evening, Angelo sat at the front window watching the darkness below. He could not sleep. So, in desperation he had pulled up the large easy chair by the window and tried to relax. He wished the quiet of the city would lull him into sleep. But as he sat here uneasiness took hold. Something was going to happen. He could feel it. He leaned forward, straining to see through the shadows below. Then, as if in a dream, he saw five boys moving toward him, weaving in and out of the shadows as they came. By instinct he turned, to look at the opposite end of the street. Yes, a man was coming toward the boys. Angelo tightened. He realized there was nothing he could do. Only sit and watch, helpless - yes, made helpless by the same mind which told him what he must do. The boys came to the middle of the block and separated. Two stood at the lamp post watching the length of the street. The remaining three leaned care- lessly against the concrete siding of the apartment building. The man came nearer, walking at a slow but steady pace . Now he was in the light. As Angelo watched, the boys surrounded the man, and with animal force tore at his clothing. In seconds his upper clothing was gone - scattered on the concrete. There were two at his arms now, pinning him to the pavement; two more securing his feet beneath him. The man squirmed, caught in their mingled trap. His pleas easily heard. At that instant the fifth boy, with an air of cere- mony, stepped into the light of the lamp post, in his hand a piece of shining steel, pointed upward. The pleas became screams; the cries of a tormented body. The body, limp now, fell back outstretched. All was quiet once again. The only sound break- ing the stillness came from Angelo, as he turned his back to sob. Joyce Birkeland 16 Show less
MIST The mist drifts in as soft as silken hair That falls in ringlets from a sodden sky And covers up a day that was quite fair And beautiful to see. Then I ask why? Why take away the golden summer's day And steal the glory of the noon day sun? Why does the mist have this great right-of-way As... Show moreMIST The mist drifts in as soft as silken hair That falls in ringlets from a sodden sky And covers up a day that was quite fair And beautiful to see. Then I ask why? Why take away the golden summer's day And steal the glory of the noon day sun? Why does the mist have this great right-of-way As from the day it has a battle won? But mist has beauty too, beneath it's shroud. Each tiny shimmering drop is like a pearl. Mist covers up the harsh and dims the loud And does a time of tranquil peace unfurl. This time of peace mist gives to world and man Is like a gift to us from God's great plan. BOnnie Jean Hanse SNOW Silently it comes-«softly with tenderness Making everything it touches virginal and fresh. Heaven's night eye surveys the green and white Vestal virgins sleeping coldly. Off somewhere a wolf breaks the unmarked air. The holy ladies stir at the low crying of the wind. And their haughty purity is sprinkled to the hills . Naked they await God's next onslaught. David L. Johnson 17 Show less
BEAT OF THE NIGHT Batter, batter the bongos! Zing, slap, zoom on the bass! Wail long and high on the keening horn, Plead with throaty voice . The night grows old, and the beat of the night Pulses strong, pulses weak, pulses, pulses Endlessly, through dark streets, the empty dark, sad streets of... Show moreBEAT OF THE NIGHT Batter, batter the bongos! Zing, slap, zoom on the bass! Wail long and high on the keening horn, Plead with throaty voice . The night grows old, and the beat of the night Pulses strong, pulses weak, pulses, pulses Endlessly, through dark streets, the empty dark, sad streets of old houses and decay. The throb, throb of the night pounds in the young Blood, flutters in the old; it vibrates Through the dim-lit street, it beats And it batters and it crashes In the dark, open doorways . Bank, bang BANG the drums! Plead and moan on the long, winding horn! Sway and writhe in the unrelentless rhythm of the throbbing , pounding,,lonesome, sobbing Night. Julie Medbery DYING OF DAY Fiery shafts of piercing sunset Streak for their goal on a summer-green hill, Glancing, gleaming , Shatter themselves on indomitable rock, And the blood of the sun dyes undulent grasses. A night bird mourns the waning of light And strains to recall glad life. But the shafts lie broken, Bleeding, dying, As ebbing life and light depart. Julie Medbery 18 Show less
TO EMILY WITHOUT WORMS, ETC . . . . . jDear Willie, My dear, it was so lovely getting your letter, and "when you hear the circumstances under which I was suffering you'll surely know I did suffer! It seems 'that on the day of Tuesday, April 16, 1951 (see Uasterix) there was scheduled at Kelly... Show moreTO EMILY WITHOUT WORMS, ETC . . . . . jDear Willie, My dear, it was so lovely getting your letter, and "when you hear the circumstances under which I was suffering you'll surely know I did suffer! It seems 'that on the day of Tuesday, April 16, 1951 (see Uasterix) there was scheduled at Kelly Hall, a Historie test for 104B, Our Eastern Heritage, 1—3200 p.m. and at 8:00 a.m. I arose to begin the first reading of 'the scribbled notes from the past three months . What a task! My Task is finding someone who can speak Arabic , because I have received my induction papers 'to the Khan's Navy. 0 sad world. I yearn to write a great novel. Not junk like the Fantastic Toe. Read some of John EPercy's things in Ab Intra; good huh? No one here appreciates it much. Also note Thad Drury's bit of ;art. Do you remember my introducing you to a lady, lsingle, but not too old, black hair, quite short, on the i‘bus one day, and I told you she was a Sunday school teacher? well, if she should read that, I'm afraid she "wouldn't reCOgnize poor Thad, her own king, nay, her ?‘0wn kin, namely cousin! I must tell you what we learned in English today: "Lord Wellington entered on his head a helmet on his feet a pair of well polished boots on his brow a clOud in his hand has favorite walking stick in his eye fire-—- . “' Tomorrow is the day of the Phy. Ed. test for which I haven't studied. It is on volley ball though and I really know quite a bit about it. I must give a cheer ‘for the Democrats, George, Rah, rah, because they really have it. Speaking of people named Psmith, did you hear that the one had flunked algebra? Bless her pointed hear° (Did you ever see a pointed hear? it's just like an eye-fire.) Also I think you should spend your money more wisely. There are many people in Europe who can't go to college. So please stop spend- ing all your time with your prayer rug and study some 19 Show less
algebra once in a while. This next semester is a crucial one. Yah. So Willie, be true, blue glue, and stick to your books, (cf. fish glue PU). Every time yOu go into the Rainbow look at the floor and say, I hope you don‘t judge my morals by what I'm going to say, but I'm a mid-Victorian and then... Show morealgebra once in a while. This next semester is a crucial one. Yah. So Willie, be true, blue glue, and stick to your books, (cf. fish glue PU). Every time yOu go into the Rainbow look at the floor and say, I hope you don‘t judge my morals by what I'm going to say, but I'm a mid-Victorian and then look up into his eyes and smile , and say thank you, and walk away. I am the receiver of the yellow rib-bone or what- ever it is one gets, a 100 point job at least. Today we went to have our pictures taken at the gym. we were just coming in and some one ran out and said, better hurry because the Rolling Players are lining up now. Of course it was necessary to go one mile out of the way to get upstairs and downstairs etc . and I came panting up the stairway and there was agroup just ready for the final click. I frantically stopped them and said I had to be in this picture too so they placed me in the middle of the second row, no less, and took the picture. When it was over , someone said, "Why Alba, I didn't know you were in Ushers Club.” I'm not. 0 gad, I've done it, gotten in the wrong picture. What shall I do. The shame of it. I'm to be branded a Bewildered One (BO) . . .Will of Tapioca! I think that a good thing would be to use the song, "You Belong to Me" as a theme. Also to shoot all orientation teachers . What kind of adamant course is that any how. I think I shall perish. How about a write in for Pogo? If you want to be sick tomorrow just sleep with a bar of soap under your arm, and you will wake with a fever. . .I have never tried it. I never touch the under of my arms with water or soap. I am entirely unsafe, entirely. The honorable Dr. W. , dear that he is , said that no human being is capable of guessing the right answer and that whenever said R. L. had achoice he inevitably guessed wrong, so as advice he told us that if we must guess , to guess and then to take the other answer. What a man! I got another A- on my Latin test today. 20 Show less
Everytime a professor goes out of town we have a test. But anyway, I got Hic and Huc wrong. We were ' supposed to say Stay Here, maneo hic , and Come Here (hither), venio huc. I forgot the Hic and the Huc and got it wrong, what a child here. Listen to the name of i this song. . . l'Reba the... Show moreEverytime a professor goes out of town we have a test. But anyway, I got Hic and Huc wrong. We were ' supposed to say Stay Here, maneo hic , and Come Here (hither), venio huc. I forgot the Hic and the Huc and got it wrong, what a child here. Listen to the name of i this song. . . l'Reba the Amoeba". ‘ Here I am on the second sheet already. Wouldn't you like to take orientation courses and shuck them >into the Garribia river? Headlines: "Rolling girl throws orientation course in Gambia. . .local girl shucks orientation. . .Omnsk student changes curric- ulum. . .former WHS student falls off tricycle. former Bolton girl wins spelling bee. . ." impossible, gad! V I have a part. in the new play "Antigone" from the same three part play of Sophocles (you know, I told you about it; Oedipus Res in part I etc.) Should be quite good. I wish you could come to see it. I have the part of the nurse to Antigone and Ismene. I don't imagine I'll do it black face though---not clean enough. And we don't want anything dirty in it - - - or sexy- - - consider the audience! Then. . . did I tell you . we are doing "Murder in the Cathedral", or Tom is dead, we loved him well. I trust you will take the opportunity to read T. S. Eliot and realize that it is quite effective and certainly w0uld be interesting read and interpreted by a Quartet. Well, I'm completely off my rocket to the moon, Willie, I hope you have stuck by me this far. We discovered this morning that one never says "I have been really lucky today" but "I have been very lucky today". Both are correct however. I shall put some English gems in my letters quite regularly because I realize that you don't learn English at your school. We don't learn typing here. We do learn Latin, or until we started on the fourth conjugation we did. I have found out that the sign of the drug profession of old (old Rome) is a snake. Since I am in love with a pharmacist from Brest by the name of Vladimir Ornoff 21 Show less
. a fine Lutheran lad. . . I feel it only fitting and proper that you accept this picture of a snake to hold next to your heart forever! or at least in your pocket book. My dear Willie , you must read Thomas Wolfe if you ever read anything. That man does more with words than can be done. . .... Show more. a fine Lutheran lad. . . I feel it only fitting and proper that you accept this picture of a snake to hold next to your heart forever! or at least in your pocket book. My dear Willie , you must read Thomas Wolfe if you ever read anything. That man does more with words than can be done. . . wonderful. I imagine it gets pretty flowery after a while, but for a short selection its wunderbar. I can (could) do nothing but screech and my emo- tions went completely out of control because you insist on using my maiden name on your addreSSOgraph machine . We had quite an intriguing man here who spoke about otters and he had two of them with him. They are quite wonderful little pets and I feel that we need one because they walk with their backs humped. (CLDT-crushed lips dOn't talk! Today's plank may be tomorrow's driftwood.) I'll close now until we again have that delicate pudding for our evening board and then shall send you a paper dipped in it. Love you in your Burgundy Burlap dress . Did you hear about the house with the B .B . walls? Did you get my scroll? I love you out loud Willie! Hark the Phantom of Rolling every shrieks before a death. Mjork 22 Show less
EDITOR'S WORD Long ago in Wales, there was an edict that all bards should be put to death. . . for as long as their songs rang out in challenge, King Henry of England found himself powerless against the Welsh. We are glad to hear in this day of spineless living on the part of manythe voices of... Show moreEDITOR'S WORD Long ago in Wales, there was an edict that all bards should be put to death. . . for as long as their songs rang out in challenge, King Henry of England found himself powerless against the Welsh. We are glad to hear in this day of spineless living on the part of manythe voices of the bards still challenging us to be ourselves against all opposition. The bards still sing! The dawn of each new day is a throbbing prelude to the deep, mag— nificent song of Life; as a new day dawns in the growing future of Augsburg College, we of the Writers' Club, imbued with a valiant spirit and deeply in earnest, hope that you, the reader, will consider our craftsmanship as a worthy adversary to spineless living. We also hope that as you walk through the forest of life, we may be allowed to blaze the trail. ErmonL. Dean Show less
WORDS TO A SIIENT MOB TOTHEWIND... INDIANSUMER. WANDEELUST . LAW . ISLAND LANDING APOLOGI.... OHDREARYDAI. MORNING. . .. . . . TOAMEDIEVALSQUIEE Pom—11mm. ZEITQ‘IIST. . . .. PINESI... PINESII .. 011315135.- ONEMORNING. LEEDNIGET .. DCMNHG’IE.... PIE-ATOTEENIG'IT Waco... SUNSEI‘ ... DEATHWATCH.... Show moreWORDS TO A SIIENT MOB TOTHEWIND... INDIANSUMER. WANDEELUST . LAW . ISLAND LANDING APOLOGI.... OHDREARYDAI. MORNING. . .. . . . TOAMEDIEVALSQUIEE Pom—11mm. ZEITQ‘IIST. . . .. PINESI... PINESII .. 011315135.- ONEMORNING. LEEDNIGET .. DCMNHG’IE.... PIE-ATOTEENIG'IT Waco... SUNSEI‘ ... DEATHWATCH. ANAHEIM WHEN .... GREENANDGOLD TRIM... TDJIPUSFUGIT O 0 OF CONTENTS 5mm 0 O O O O O O I I O O O C O I O O O O I Cover design by Linda Hanwick 3 o \OWQO‘UIJ-‘Jv‘ 5t: . 15 . 16 .. 17 . 17 .19 .32 Show less
WORDS TO A SEEM MOB Why the awesome stillness, Rabble? Your brassy throats like Pagan bells have clashed and dinned— But now lie cold and dumb. Your frenzied howls that rang through all Jerusalem: "Crucify Him! Cruciiw Himl". . 0 Where are theft Foolish people! Did you not know that in killing... Show moreWORDS TO A SEEM MOB Why the awesome stillness, Rabble? Your brassy throats like Pagan bells have clashed and dinned— But now lie cold and dumb. Your frenzied howls that rang through all Jerusalem: "Crucify Him! Cruciiw Himl". . 0 Where are theft Foolish people! Did you not know that in killing you brought death upon yourselves? Oh, mob, who gaping and jeering, mocked a dying Han. . 0 You, mob, who flaunted your living, breathing selves before a cross of death. . . Why are you now turned to dust? Julie Medbery T0 'IHE WIND Are you the same wind that blew When I was Just a boy? Your voice is like the voice I knew And yet the thrill—the joy Has changed to a sadder tone— Perhaps an echo of my own. Ennon L. Deen Show less
museum As a child, I roamed the rolling banks of the mighty Mississippi, the shores of Lakes Calhoun and kaomis. I ramped through the wooded hills of Highland Park and Minneheha Park. Marv Saturday afternoons when the Gophers took their stand on the sprawling green of Memorial Stadium, I was... Show moremuseum As a child, I roamed the rolling banks of the mighty Mississippi, the shores of Lakes Calhoun and kaomis. I ramped through the wooded hills of Highland Park and Minneheha Park. Marv Saturday afternoons when the Gophers took their stand on the sprawling green of Memorial Stadium, I was caught up in the crowd's roar. Those Saturdays of so long ago when all the world was my front yard and nature was my toy, I now yearn for. But their splendor is spent and in their place a fresh- er, more iridescent beauty takes my mind and soul skipping across the river bank, along the lake shore and over the long afternoons of ex- citement. New I find Indian summer as full of beauty as then, when I was a child. Her beauty has not changed. Long ago man made this beauty his delight, and in his writing captured the inner meanings of the splash- ing colors—the flaming reds, the glowing browns, and the bright yel- lows. They all pass me as I drive along the river bank where I once roamed. The steady hum of the motor beneath its steel hood, and the rhythmic chatter of the wheels on the asphalt fill the air with the soft music of a time gone by. The sleping river bank with the maples, elms and oaks beckons to me as I ease off on the accelerator and swing the car into an S-shaped curve. Ahead, the ribbon of asphalt curves gently one way, then ano- ther, with bright red sumac as its fence. As the sun swings lazily through its arch, it casts deep purple shadows across the road; red and yellow leaves drift lazily downward from their homes of blazing beauty. Slowing, I swing the car into a roadside stop. 5 Show less
The silence and irresistible peace nestled in the flaming red tree tops drift slowly downward on to the sloping hill of soft emerald green and ripple the blue water of the river. Stretching out on the emerald green, I stare heavenward at the deep blue of an Indian summer's day and frame this... Show moreThe silence and irresistible peace nestled in the flaming red tree tops drift slowly downward on to the sloping hill of soft emerald green and ripple the blue water of the river. Stretching out on the emerald green, I stare heavenward at the deep blue of an Indian summer's day and frame this manent of peace and solitude in the yellow gold and pae- sionate red of the maples Surrounding this patch of personal tranquil- 1W. jon michael WANDEIEUST Long before my father's father Tuned the cabin's snake-black rafter, Left the challenge of his birth cry standing tall, Sane dark giver, primed with laughter, Breathed upon me, and thereafter Iwasbornhiakithandldn; Iknowhis call. Cane, cajoling, at my window Whistle in the wind-bent willow, I must answer, rise and go, though I would stay. Wander-god of hill and billow, You will cane to shake my pillow, And however deep my roots, I must obey. 6 EmonI..Deen Show less
LA PENDULE Its rhythm beats Each passing second of man. It sits unmoved While time pulses over Its expressionless face. Its white mask stares Indifferently Into eyes or worried man. Stand here with me Ami watch its hands: Its dead fingers Reach into the future circle And push each minute aside... Show moreLA PENDULE Its rhythm beats Each passing second of man. It sits unmoved While time pulses over Its expressionless face. Its white mask stares Indifferently Into eyes or worried man. Stand here with me Ami watch its hands: Its dead fingers Reach into the future circle And push each minute aside Into the graying past. We shall stand here Until death Waiting for the next beat. Linda Hamid: Show less
