Remoteness I've even tried it myself, but I still don't really get it. What appears to be the predominantly male phenomenon, at least among my friends, of surfing TV channels with a remote control remains one of life’s greater mysteries to me. Yes, I did once pos- ture the glazed—over appearance... Show moreRemoteness I've even tried it myself, but I still don't really get it. What appears to be the predominantly male phenomenon, at least among my friends, of surfing TV channels with a remote control remains one of life’s greater mysteries to me. Yes, I did once pos- ture the glazed—over appearance as I clicked in an incessant circle from channel to channel‘ and for a moment thought I had a glimpse of its meaning, The prerequisite to this subliminal experience was several sessions with a kindergartner to master a “grandpa” remote. For those unfamiliar with this term, it is a manufacturer's name for a five—button TV remote control for those who need kindergart— ners to instruct them on its Lise. Our former pastor gave an apologia from the pulpit on his remote behavior. There was a lot of ner— vous tittering and elbow jabbing among the con— gregation. He went on to contend that it is good Christian stewardship to watch more than one channel at a time. When they pried the thing from the hand of my best friend's bachelor cousin who lived in Arkansas, he had blissfully surfed from Channel 23 to eterni- ty. I wondered if death could be like that, a final channel surf. And after I wondered that. I won- dered why they didn’tjust bury the remote with him as the Catholics bury rosary beads with their beloved. Show less
\Vhile it appears at least to this alien that the new wave of armchair surfing is a meditative experience for some. including my husband. when left out of my control. I find it incites me to emotions most mediators try to avoid. The din of flashing lights and flipping images at midnight drives me to... Show more\Vhile it appears at least to this alien that the new wave of armchair surfing is a meditative experience for some. including my husband. when left out of my control. I find it incites me to emotions most mediators try to avoid. The din of flashing lights and flipping images at midnight drives me to a hellacious interlude \n'th my cherished spouse of at least 22 years. On the rare occa— sion when I do allow myself to become captivated by a scene the abrupt intrusion of the Minnesota Gophers leaves me. like an unexpected dousing of ice water, lin'd. I‘d prefer to do my meditating to the hum of a sening machine. Gretchen “'aldeland Show less
Under the Table under the table maybe blankets draped the walls have tumbled our castle takes its form— supports are loosed get some books blankets fall something heavy we will rebuild again to hold it down another day flashlights, candy, books maybe the knights take their places at the round... Show moreUnder the Table under the table maybe blankets draped the walls have tumbled our castle takes its form— supports are loosed get some books blankets fall something heavy we will rebuild again to hold it down another day flashlights, candy, books maybe the knights take their places at the round table Merlin casts a spell troops storm the castle gates hold them back we won’t surrender maybe secrets, codes, stashes of leftover Halloween candy we’ll have a feast gather around people! a celebration is here what’s that? who’s there? do you know the word to say? Christine Fankhanel Show less
Indebted to College The handsome lager and standard moon Come now near name — Stella 0r Luna; Distraction gets paid, learns to love pay, The wise are well beaten, asked not to say. As scholarship goes, somejust repeat, Some, when undone, become the elite Of some thousand debtors, advancing the... Show moreIndebted to College The handsome lager and standard moon Come now near name — Stella 0r Luna; Distraction gets paid, learns to love pay, The wise are well beaten, asked not to say. As scholarship goes, somejust repeat, Some, when undone, become the elite Of some thousand debtors, advancing the poor; So knowledge or not, we all remain whore. Aaron Gabriel Augsburg College Library Show less
Portrait of 21 Homeless Man Creative Non—Fiction He looked old for 35, wearing a well—worn black bandanna to hold his hairline. The stubble on his face partially hid the cuts and gashes that ran from above his right eye to the point of his rounded chin. “All my front teeth are fake." he boasted... Show morePortrait of 21 Homeless Man Creative Non—Fiction He looked old for 35, wearing a well—worn black bandanna to hold his hairline. The stubble on his face partially hid the cuts and gashes that ran from above his right eye to the point of his rounded chin. “All my front teeth are fake." he boasted as he told me a story of the knife fight he got into on his let birthday. He offered his wrists to show several thick cuts running horizontally down to his fingers. “I was legally dead for five minutes." he said. He wore a black three—button polo style shirt covered by a royal blue Adidas jacket. His Target brand sweatpants were a dirty black, which frayed as they met his well—worn working boots. Two cross tattoos were cut into both of his arms. One was on his right shoulder and the other was on his left fore- arm. Billy's father died 15 years ago, when he was 19. His mom lived in Devils Lake. North Dakota, at the time. “\Vhen I was a little boy. she was an alcoholic. My step Dad was very abusive... \Vhen I was seven. I ran away to my real Dad's house.” After that. Billy lived in seven dilferent juvenile centers before he turned 18. Billy sleeps on the floor at the Catholic Charities Show less
branch 11. or as he calls it, “the tramp camp." He’s been living there for six years. "Basically, my average day I get up at 4- a.m., out of the tramp camp at 4:30. I am always at the unemployment service by 5." Billy cur— rently works at GS Electric's, where he converts small motors found in... Show morebranch 11. or as he calls it, “the tramp camp." He’s been living there for six years. "Basically, my average day I get up at 4- a.m., out of the tramp camp at 4:30. I am always at the unemployment service by 5." Billy cur— rently works at GS Electric's, where he converts small motors found in scrap piles into larger motors for exer- cise equipment. It is free for Billy to stay at the Catholic Charities building, but to sleep in a bed at the Salvation Army, it costs $7 a night, or $35 a week. This is where most of his money goes, when he has some. When Billy was asked if he was worried about getting sick from living in a shelter, he replied, “I’m always sick. My stomach is fucked up. It’s not easy liv- ing with 250 other dudes who don’t shower. You don't know where they’ve been. Sometimes I worry about catching body lice or some shit." He is checked for HIV and other blood born illnesses by giving plasma. This is his other occupation. He goes twice a week, and has for 15 years. He has dime—sized scars that stand thick off both arms from where they take the plasma. For how tough Billy's life seems he keeps himself going by setting strong goals. He would like to have an apartment by next January. Even if he had the money for rent, it would still be nearly impossible to be approved with no solid job, no references, and no cur— rent address. Billy has cleaned himself up from drugs 13 Show less
for the most part. He still smokes marijuana from time to time. He quit using crack a month ago. He says he is an addict. “This spring I worked at Caring and Sharing Hands on 7th St. I was making $20 a day, but serving $300 a day. I would have to drink a liter of Paul Massons brandyjust to sleep... Show morefor the most part. He still smokes marijuana from time to time. He quit using crack a month ago. He says he is an addict. “This spring I worked at Caring and Sharing Hands on 7th St. I was making $20 a day, but serving $300 a day. I would have to drink a liter of Paul Massons brandyjust to sleep at night. A lot of people in front of the Catholic Charities either choose to spend their money on weed, brew, or crack cocaine. I don't smoke crack anymore because a 820 piece of crack will get me high for 10 minutes. A $20 bag (of marijuana) will get me high for 2.3.4 days." If you ask Billy why he is homeless. he’ll say, “Because my last roommate stole my money." This was his easy response. He has seen and done a lot in life, and lived everywhere a train could carry him. Billy is a kind and resilient man who will someday be whatever he wants to be. Unfortunately: he might already be that. Dan Madsen 1-1- Show less
4 1 g l l y Daddy’s Little Girl She had felt this way all her life. She would never be good enough. Never be smart enough. Never make him proud. Her life would always be one great mistake that she could never set right. Thirteen years had passed, but his words continue to long haunt her memory.... Show more4 1 g l l y Daddy’s Little Girl She had felt this way all her life. She would never be good enough. Never be smart enough. Never make him proud. Her life would always be one great mistake that she could never set right. Thirteen years had passed, but his words continue to long haunt her memory. At night, his voice overpowers sleep and she awakes without a sound. Her screams remain unheard and her cheeks are stained with tears. She sat huddled at the top of the staircase. Her dog, Chancellor, sat valiantly beside her and allowed the child to hug him. He was her protector, her noble guardian. The child buried her head in the dog's soft fur hoping to drown out the voices from below. She clung tighter and tighter t0 the dog, but the man's voice rang through the house and echoed in her ears. The child did not dare make a sound. She buried her face further into the dog's soft body and tried to hide from the sharpness of his words. A tear escaped its prison and she quickly wiped it away. She would not cry. The child could barely hear her mother pleading with the man. Her mother had a soft voice — a silent voice. She wished her mother would be louder. Maybe if her mother was louder it would make the man go away. Go far away. Not just for a few days like he did sometimes, but for good. Forever. Then she wouldn't Show less
have to sit waiting to hear his footsteps in the driveway. The sound of glass breaking caused her tojump and Chancellor moved closer to the girl. She wondered what treasures would survive his wrath this time. More crashing noises. The girl stroked the dog's head. Probablyjust the window. In the... Show morehave to sit waiting to hear his footsteps in the driveway. The sound of glass breaking caused her tojump and Chancellor moved closer to the girl. She wondered what treasures would survive his wrath this time. More crashing noises. The girl stroked the dog's head. Probablyjust the window. In the morning she would awake and silently help her mother clean up the wreck— age of their house. She had begun hiding things that her grandma had given her, and this thought comforted the girl. These were her treasures, not his. Her mother had laughed and told the child that it was her first hope chest. The girl laughed too because her mother had called it hope. Hope had flown away long ago. Deep down the child secretly yearned that he would learn to love her, but she was tired of being frightened and now she prayed for silence. The noises stopped and the girl crept halfway down the stairs. Chancellor moved beside her. She heard her mother crying, begging the man to quiet down. She said he would wake the child. “Goddamn it, Peggy, that’s all you ever think about! I work to support this family and you spend every penny I make. What the hell do you do around this house? Nothing — that’s what. My dinner’s burnt, the house is a mess, and you just whine about the fuck— ing kid.” “Dave, please..." “Please what? Tell me. Tell me, Peggy, what do you ever do that’s right?" “I'll try harder," her mother sobbed. “I'll quit Show less
tennis and PTA. I'll lose weight. I’ll be a better wife. A better mother..." “Fuck being a mother. You're my wife. My fat, useless wife." She couldn't hear her mother's muffled reply. The yelling stopped and the girl thought he had left. Her body began to relax and she waited for her mother to... Show moretennis and PTA. I'll lose weight. I’ll be a better wife. A better mother..." “Fuck being a mother. You're my wife. My fat, useless wife." She couldn't hear her mother's muffled reply. The yelling stopped and the girl thought he had left. Her body began to relax and she waited for her mother to come to bed. The downstairs was silent. She crept further down the stairs and leaned over the railing. Chancellor didn’t follow. She raised up on her toes and leaned further over the railing, straining her eyes in the darkened hall to see her mother. All was quiet. Too quiet she’d remember later. She tiptoed to the bottom of the stairs. The marble was cold beneath her bare feet and it sent a chill throughout her small body. Chancellor began to softly whine, and she didn't realize what he was trying to tell her. She continued onward. The lamp was on the floor at the end of the hall— way. It cast strange, long shadows around the living room. Glass shimmered across the fraying carpet. She noticed her grandmother's rocking chair first. It was lying on its side in the fireplace. It had been too big to hide. A tear betrayed her newfound bravery. She care— fully stepped towards the fireplace to retrieve her bro— ken treasure, but a noise made her freeze in her tracks. A strange, wheezing sound came from behind the couch. She wanted to run but she was close now. The man was bent over something. Her mother. His hands were wrapped around her neck and her Show less
mother’s hands were flailing against the man. Her mother’s eyes bulged, and they caused the child to freeze with fear. Too close. “You don’t deserve to be my wife,” he screamed as he shook her mother. “This is all your fault. You bitch! I never wanted a kid. It...V\'as...a...MISTAKE!" His words... Show moremother’s hands were flailing against the man. Her mother’s eyes bulged, and they caused the child to freeze with fear. Too close. “You don’t deserve to be my wife,” he screamed as he shook her mother. “This is all your fault. You bitch! I never wanted a kid. It...V\'as...a...MISTAKE!" His words shot like gunfire across the girl’s chest and tore away her fear. She slowly bent down and picked up the arm of the broken rocking chair. She lunged toward the man and hit him across the back of his neck. The girl didn’t know what happened next. She only saw the angry fire burning his red eyes. Run! She didn't know if she had thought it or if her mother had whispered it. “You little bitch,” he spat at her through clenched teeth. She began to back up, unaware of the glass shredding her feet. His blow sent her hard into the wall. She crawled into the corner and shut her eyes. Blood cooled her burning cheek. Chancellor leapt between the girl and the man. He bared his teeth and let a slow, low growl. She opened her swollen eyes. Her protector. Her mother was rubbing the purple marks on her neck. “Please, Dave, she's only a child. She doesn’t understand." He spun around and faced her broken mother. “This is all your fault, Peggy. Fuck kids. You’re the one who got pregnant. I never fuckin’ wanted Show less
either of you." Her mother was terribly wrong. She did under— stand. The man didn’t love her. She had known it a long time ago, but somehow hearing it had shattered something in the little girl. His words had pierced her soul and stolen her innocence. The man had nothing more to say. There was... Show moreeither of you." Her mother was terribly wrong. She did under— stand. The man didn’t love her. She had known it a long time ago, but somehow hearing it had shattered something in the little girl. His words had pierced her soul and stolen her innocence. The man had nothing more to say. There was nothing left to steal. He left that night. For good. The next morning the girl awoke and helped her mother scrub the man from their lives. When they had finished, the girl had called for her dog. Chancellor never came. The girl searched for him for weeks, but she never found him. She later learned that the man had returned late in the night to gather his belongings. Chancellor had been the price that she had paid for silence. She and her mother never spoke of that night, but it remained locked away in the child’s memory. Sometimes at night, her mother would curl up with her and softly sing the child to sleep. The girl would cry for her lost protector and the daddy she had longed to have. Her mother would wipe her tears and would promise that everything would work out. She told the girl that her daddy was just sick and was trying hard to be a good daddy. On these nights, the girl believed her mother. She prayed her daddy would get better and love her again. The girl never quit listening for the man’s footsteps in the driveway, and her treasures remained hidden. They stood in the doorway waiting for their cue. Show less
This was her special day. A new beginning. Today, she would be good enough. No longer a mistake. She turned toward her father and smiled as he straightened the veil across her face. Through her veil, her father's face took on a heavenly glow. She felt beautifiil. She told him that she loved him... Show moreThis was her special day. A new beginning. Today, she would be good enough. No longer a mistake. She turned toward her father and smiled as he straightened the veil across her face. Through her veil, her father's face took on a heavenly glow. She felt beautifiil. She told him that she loved him and rested her head upon his shoulder. The music began to call them. It was time. As her father began to lead her, he lowered his head close to the girl's ear. “Try not to fuck this up too, will ya?" was all he whispered as he silently led her down the aisle. The girl mechanically smiled from behind her veil as tears rolled down her painted cheeks. She had felt this way all her life. Andrea Cobery Show less
Trundle,Trundle Graceful, gangly trees joints budding full of fungus orange, white-bellied discs, exploding from their bough-wrapped nests. And twigs fishing air with leaves on worn red threads darting, quick, this way to that pitter pat Soil heaves up rocks ‘neath roots bows them up, cracks their... Show moreTrundle,Trundle Graceful, gangly trees joints budding full of fungus orange, white-bellied discs, exploding from their bough-wrapped nests. And twigs fishing air with leaves on worn red threads darting, quick, this way to that pitter pat Soil heaves up rocks ‘neath roots bows them up, cracks their skin allows a dreamer to begin to see the symmetry of every tree. Sweating arms and bicept creases lay down speckled slabs in slated paths soil heaves up rocks ‘neath boots and cracks the concrete like pie crust, under black—souled boots. Flowered dresses skip along white. white shoes bounce light, light moves dances off of teeth and lips and burgeoning tits. Sweating hands massage and knead out nipples knuckles spotted red with pimples and coarse with white hairs Show less
pores bursting spraying, arching off to spatter the wind ah, gentle lifts up, brushes weeds and carries off their seeds each lazy gust propels them up, they topple through the breeze and light among the leafless trees. Scott Bibus
Danny Boy ; i'." '0 '12) 4 mafia h t s v cmusmc: m L mm‘ssoucuuauu ~, w "53 l r ’s yum-1635mmqu ~ animuscbtoe. -~ ‘ gem 'hcug; ' ' su R'smthe yoummbabovc J , 1r. when m;&mal1my’a.- f the vullcy's huser gave nut} ‘5 'I- Iccunch .smaxeky". .‘Ilbcchem: poayouuu lino .I ' mmlgellme Chat‘ uu ’ u vcme;... Show moreDanny Boy ; i'." '0 '12) 4 mafia h t s v cmusmc: m L mm‘ssoucuuauu ~, w "53 l r ’s yum-1635mmqu ~ animuscbtoe. -~ ‘ gem 'hcug; ' ' su R'smthe yoummbabovc J , 1r. when m;&mal1my’a.- f the vullcy's huser gave nut} ‘5 'I- Iccunch .smaxeky". .‘Ilbcchem: poayouuu lino .I ' mmlgellme Chat‘ uu ’ u vcme; g %’gnallslcep 3'; Wk Jody Johnstone to\ (.n Show less
Sonnet # 4 I alone know why the midnight’s beauty Lays itself before the glory of dawn. In turn, the brilliant sun should wait as long For dusk to fulfill its own heart's duty. Shadows are cast by the sun, and truly Sustain the sun until dusk — to belong \Yith the night, where the stars burn with... Show moreSonnet # 4 I alone know why the midnight’s beauty Lays itself before the glory of dawn. In turn, the brilliant sun should wait as long For dusk to fulfill its own heart's duty. Shadows are cast by the sun, and truly Sustain the sun until dusk — to belong \Yith the night, where the stars burn with love strong. Stars are the thoughts by night of love duly. This beauty of midnight’s complexion Seems distanced by the brilliance of the sun. Forever destined by separation, Both still revolve for brief moments as one. I as well know painful segregation And still I wait in vain for you to come. Dan Madsen 26 Show less
87. We eat. We aren’t at all intriguing And by no means something permanent. The recipes of your life require reading And my line is no indeterminate, But what writ will write all your wanting, What reader page through my unnervings? The result of a sentence is its ending In forgotten concordance... Show more87. We eat. We aren’t at all intriguing And by no means something permanent. The recipes of your life require reading And my line is no indeterminate, But what writ will write all your wanting, What reader page through my unnervings? The result of a sentence is its ending In forgotten concordance or unattended burning. You gave up yourself — your learning For comfort where mistakes come for making; In our knowing shows misunderstanding So, I’ll slip away, ready for baking. Thus I have watched us grow fatter and fatter Alone king or queen, and alone is what matters. Aaron Gabriel Show less
