THE PASSING LIGHT Sarah/«lam Some lover's blue sweater Bunched on a chair in the corner. In one spotlight from the window, Where sun falls through. I move the sweater from the dark—wood chair And sit as close as I can To the portrait of visiting spring. Parts of winter drip away behind me. I open... Show moreTHE PASSING LIGHT Sarah/«lam Some lover's blue sweater Bunched on a chair in the corner. In one spotlight from the window, Where sun falls through. I move the sweater from the dark—wood chair And sit as close as I can To the portrait of visiting spring. Parts of winter drip away behind me. I open my pores That I also may than: I then wince at the warm light As it teases the dozen roses Whose heads are drooping at me Out of a spray of unnatural looking ferns. I finger their red silk faces And sense the cool life bleeding out. I mourn with them, For them. A school bus whimpers to a stop On the wet and filthy street below, And I suddenly feel the melancholy Ofa hundred winter afternoons Re—freezing in my chest. Show less
Caro/y” H (WI/all hirdseed in hand a boy selling happiness too good to be free on the shelf a book soon to be a major motion picture his words smelled like 21 red cross thrift shop
that one? That’s one of the times I got lucky." This is how I found out about the tent behind the sandbags, the tent that was no longer there. My father had volunteered to stay outside on guard duty while a buddy got some sleep in Dad's bunk. Later that evening, the tent was blown apart when it... Show morethat one? That’s one of the times I got lucky." This is how I found out about the tent behind the sandbags, the tent that was no longer there. My father had volunteered to stay outside on guard duty while a buddy got some sleep in Dad's bunk. Later that evening, the tent was blown apart when it was hit by a grenade. His friend diedi Dad had stood there in front of that space, nothing left but gravel, while the Polaroid trigger was pressed. He smiled. not because he was enjoying Viet— nam, but because he had lived through the night. 29 Show less
DON QUUOTE BROKE MY PATE D. E. Crew He fell unexpectedly from the shelf, grazing my temple with his bronze spear, impaling horse and rider in the bottom shelfof the bookcase. The blood began to flow, ideals to scatter to the wind like leaves torn from unread books. How can we go on if we don't... Show moreDON QUUOTE BROKE MY PATE D. E. Crew He fell unexpectedly from the shelf, grazing my temple with his bronze spear, impaling horse and rider in the bottom shelfof the bookcase. The blood began to flow, ideals to scatter to the wind like leaves torn from unread books. How can we go on if we don't know where we've come from, what we have been, might be? Pundits cannot Clarify the vast La Mancha it is our fate to ride Later, when I'd stanched the wound, reduced the swelling with a bit ofice, removed the old knight to safer ground, I wondered, ll bald he still/M17111} (I huneg side/rich Iofillaw, mule—shaken, belly grumbling quart—long through these worlds, this universe, lie/ween us? 58 Show less
KEVIN COSTNER NEARLY KILLED ME Alli/2020 Raf/mi Mr. Costner is a cool one. Guzzle in air, Last week I saw him shoot a buffalo sweet like Champagne drunk lips Before that, he played baseball. and tears spew from bulging eyes. But this Robin Hood is not so tough. I rush to my father, ecstatic with... Show moreKEVIN COSTNER NEARLY KILLED ME Alli/2020 Raf/mi Mr. Costner is a cool one. Guzzle in air, Last week I saw him shoot a buffalo sweet like Champagne drunk lips Before that, he played baseball. and tears spew from bulging eyes. But this Robin Hood is not so tough. I rush to my father, ecstatic with a life If he can I can. snatched from the l have a tree house, Grim hand of death for the first time. And a rope swing too. Grandpa left his scalfolding here .just for me today. “Got the wind knocked out of ya huh?" \Vhimper snifl‘le nod. Now I am Robin Hood, but cooler. “Well, that‘ll happen." Now I am jumping like Robin Hood, but faster. Now I am lying on the ground. Not so much like Robin Hood. Now I am sucking, fighting, thrashing for breath. Now I am waiting. It is so short. They are right. I never thought the end would come like this. I wonder what they will say? \Vill my parents know how it happened? “'ill my mother cry when she finds her son? God this is taking forever. l guess I will walk around one last time. Shouldn't be long now, I couldn't borrow any more. I catch a sip. Please another please please. A larger one this time and yes! Another and again and God I am your Clllld thank you thank you! Show less
kind of stunned horror as everyone realized that we had been well and truly busted. "Don't answer the door!" “Turn 0Hr the lights!" “Hide!” Tony seemed to realize this was not a good idea. When the knock came, he was ready-but no one else was. Kids scattered—under the table, into the kitch— en,... Show morekind of stunned horror as everyone realized that we had been well and truly busted. "Don't answer the door!" “Turn 0Hr the lights!" “Hide!” Tony seemed to realize this was not a good idea. When the knock came, he was ready-but no one else was. Kids scattered—under the table, into the kitch— en, and behind the door. David shot past me to lock him— self in Mom's room. I flew out of the living room and up the staircase, crouching down on a step close enough to hear but not be seen. I prayed that when the police hauled everyone away my brothers wouldn't rat me out, (although David probably would the little snitch) and that if they did, the police wouldn't think to look for me here in the dark. I sat there on the step horrified that l was about to be arrested—not at the idea that we would be sent to prison, but rather appalled at the punishment my moth- er would mete out for having gotten myself arrested. When DJ on Full House skipped school, her Uncle Joey only said he was disappointed in her. That wouldn't be too bad. But maybe getting arrested was even worse than skipping school. When Rapunzel didn't listen to the witch in the story she cut her hair off and blinded her prince, but Mom would never do that. Besides—Mom didn't actually say not to egg their house. My brother told me later that the officer asked where our mom was. And Tony, thank God, had enough common sense to lie. He told him Mom was working until ten. The cop stood there a moment, giving Tony the evil eye, and then held out his business card, telling him to have Mom call him. After the policeman left, I ran down the stairs and tried to appear as if I had bravely been standing 67 there the whole time. Tony, after shutting the door, leaned his back against it and looked at David and l. llis face was chalk white and I knew he was wondering if we could avoid mentioning this to Mom. He looked down at the card in his hand, and following the basic childhood canon Dextrqv All Evirlenrc’, crumpled the card up in his hand, shoved it in his mouth and swallowed it whole Now that’s a brother. It wasn't long before our eockiness returned to us. We had egged the neighbors" house, outwitted the police, barely escaped being thrown into prison, and gotten away with no punishment in sight. \\'e could get away with anything. No one could touch us. The back door slammed. "Guys," Mom asked coming into the kitchen doorway, her eyes narrowed, “\Vhy were the polite here?" Every possible excuse ran through my head. They were asking for directions. They were returnng my lost Barbie doll. They wanted to award us Olympit‘ Gold Medals for getting one over on those greaseball Millers. I said none of this. I smiled at her innocently, willing her to re— member that l was her one and only baby girl, twirled a finger in a bouncy red curl, and slipped quietly out of sight, behind Tony. Show less
C R ITI Q U E A I tide/[tie Nyz'o/d Oh, my reckless haste rarely pays off. In the heat of experimentation, consequences are rendered, well, inconsequential. I've never had the patience for thinking things through. Rough drafts take too long, so I skip removable pencil lines and choose something... Show moreC R ITI Q U E A I tide/[tie Nyz'o/d Oh, my reckless haste rarely pays off. In the heat of experimentation, consequences are rendered, well, inconsequential. I've never had the patience for thinking things through. Rough drafts take too long, so I skip removable pencil lines and choose something more permanent. I sin boldly with large, irreversible strokes, covering my canvas with lapses in judgment. Acting in the best interest of individual ideas and di- vided moments instead of the finished whole. Before I know it, before I have the chance to re— ally step back and look at what I've created, it's whisked away from me. I don't get to decide when I'm finished, and there's never enough time for me to make anything worthwhile out of all those mistakes. My mess is then put on display. A perfect target for criticism, in a room full of people wearing sneers like they're going out of style. All I can do is sit in the back and tap my feet ner— vously. This is out of my hands, figuratively and liter- ally. So far, no one's said anything, but the room is already thick with scrutiny. A girl with a lip ring and a tattoo covering her left forearm raises her hand. “The choices the artist made seem rushed and not well thought out. The whole thing lacks insight." She's right, but she doesn't understand. I wasn't fin— ished yet. [just learned these lessons. I didn’t have a chance to apply that knowledge. Another hand is raised, this one belonging to a girl wearing a pink hat. “The juxtaposition of lines doesn't make any sense." Not in this context, I know. She's assuming that I knew better. I didn't. A boy with dark hair and blue eyes raises his hand, and waits a moment before he speaks. "Your perspective is way off," he says simply All I can do is shrug my shoulders helplessly. He's right. I’ve never been any good with perspective. My work conveys plenty of misconceptions about me, but that is the one truth that shines through. 36 Show less
Jeremy Anderson is a sophomore English major. Sarah Anne is a junior English major. She loves sing— ing, playing guitar, writing, and eating things such as chocolate and Chipotle. Amy Barnhorst is a senior sociology major who enjoys drawing and snowboarding in her spare time. Amy Bethke is a... Show moreJeremy Anderson is a sophomore English major. Sarah Anne is a junior English major. She loves sing— ing, playing guitar, writing, and eating things such as chocolate and Chipotle. Amy Barnhorst is a senior sociology major who enjoys drawing and snowboarding in her spare time. Amy Bethke is a weekend college student, majoring in English. Jamee Blixt is a sophomore English and sociology ma- jor. Riley Conway is a senior English major with a con- centration in writing and a sociology minor who enjoys running, reading, and writing. Laura Eliason is a senior double-major in English and studio art who enjoys reading, writing, painting, draw— ing, and biking. Teddy Fabel is a sophomore English major and a suck- er for sappy slogans. Sarah Gilbert is a sophomore English major. She is as- sociate literary editor of this literary magazine and has BIG plans to take over Murphy Square next year (cue evil laughter). Dawson Goddard is a senior, majoring in elementary education and art. CONTRIBUTOR BIOGRAPHIES DE. Green teaches literature, expository and creative writing, and women's studies at Augsburg College; he is the faculty adviser to QSU. Carolyn Herman is a senior English major with inter— ests in socialjustice, music, canoeing, and camping. Heather Hillman will graduate this year with an ling- lish major. Alisa Hoven is a sophomore social work major with in— terests in photography, film, and music. Colin Irvine is a novelist trapped in a writing instruc— tor's body. Emily Jensen is a freshman, majoring in internatiomil relations. Aaron Koehn is ajunior studio art major with a minor in architecture who likes to create. Katherine Koziol is a junior marketing major with a studio art minor. She prefers to work in oils or 35111111 photography. Sonya Krimsky is a junior theatre major. Darby Lorents has found her true calling in the arts Show less
