EPIDEMIC Malena Thoson Vilify me, make me malicious—- when I speak when I write when I think. Vilify me, make me the femme fatale-- who coyly steals your boyfriend, and your girlfriend, who stands on chairs to flee rationality. Vilify me, make me the apathetic wealthy-— who sip dry martinis, who... Show moreEPIDEMIC Malena Thoson Vilify me, make me malicious—- when I speak when I write when I think. Vilify me, make me the femme fatale-- who coyly steals your boyfriend, and your girlfriend, who stands on chairs to flee rationality. Vilify me, make me the apathetic wealthy-— who sip dry martinis, who throw pennies at fortune—500 charities, who blame your genes for your fiscal plight. Vilify me, make me the unmotivated poor—— who smell, who plague you for spare change, who just haven't tried hard enough. Vilify me, make me the incompetent servant-- who spits in your latte, who works too slow, who forgets to smile. Vilify me, make me the parasitic immigrant-— who steals yourjobs, who pollutes your schools, who drags your property value down. Vilify me, make me the deranged soldier-- who blindly follows authority, who basks in immorality, who kills in cold blood. Vilify me, make me my unfit age-- too young to know the rules, too old to have fun, 50 Show less
too wrinkled to contribute. Vilify me, make me my unholy religion—— that is wrong, ludicrous, dangerous. Vilify me, make me my color-coded skin-- that delimits who I am, what I believe, what I’ll do. Vilify me, make me make villains-- out of men, out of women, out of all our human blood. 51
SEA GLASS, COBH Kayla Skarbakka The belt of brackish beach between retaining wall and wave, fish—stinking, kelp—devoured, half-eclipsed by sodden latticework of leaf and spray and dross, fosters motley communes of soft—washed shards from fishing floats, mirrors, plates, but mostly (you can hear... Show moreSEA GLASS, COBH Kayla Skarbakka The belt of brackish beach between retaining wall and wave, fish—stinking, kelp—devoured, half-eclipsed by sodden latticework of leaf and spray and dross, fosters motley communes of soft—washed shards from fishing floats, mirrors, plates, but mostly (you can hear children in a nasal chorus sing) five thousand bottles of beer from the wall, thrown in green and amber shatters, smudged by lips and foam, filmed in fish oil, scraped scales, crusted lines of spume. Enthusiasts dig in, assume the beauty of smooth edges, fractures soothed, fragments no longer of a whole. Nature‘s pretty way with things that break (they may say, ignoring grit, ignoring grating glass on stone, ocean’s soft attack—the lonely fact that after change there is no going back), ultimately gentle in the face of violence (ignoring the possibility that these pieces—soft —edged though they are— could be SO unwillingly; that they, after years-long grinds and battles, could regret the inability to scar). They tap together, scratch, rub and slide and quake, minor geologies, victims of monotony. What do you do with such assorted bits of human history? You sit, dig fingers in, bury your own smooth—skinned hands, and then you leave. pockets empty. 53 Show less
HUE ON THE HORIZON (Excerpt) Joe Brown IV. “We must be getting close," said Javier. “I can hear a car." Teresa looked up at the sky. Only the stars and an orange hue lit the way. She turned and looked out in all directions; the noise had gotten louder. Suddenly she spotted it. Two white lights... Show moreHUE ON THE HORIZON (Excerpt) Joe Brown IV. “We must be getting close," said Javier. “I can hear a car." Teresa looked up at the sky. Only the stars and an orange hue lit the way. She turned and looked out in all directions; the noise had gotten louder. Suddenly she spotted it. Two white lights from the west headed directly at them. The soft buzz transformed into a ferocious roar as the lights grew brighter and brighter. “Javier, someone is coming. Hurry!" Teresa cried. The two began running through the desert, but their feet sank after each step; they could not get away. The lights closed in and a Black SUV emerged. “Hijo de puta," screamed Javier as he stepped in front of Teresa. The SUV continued its approach until it stopped beside them. Dual exhaust pipes spewed a dense cloud of smog from the rear, and both ofthem began to cough. With no markings or flashing lights, this SUV did not look to be Border Patrol, but they were not certain. At a standstill, the SUV waited. From the unlit cabin, a window was rolled down, and out popped the head of a pasty white American man complete with crew cut and cleft chin. “Hola Amigos!" hollered the man. “Que pasa?" Teresa stood behind Javier; he would be able to handle this. “Stay here and keep an eye out," whispered Javier before he left her to stand alone to he talk to the American. The man frightened Teresa, yet she did not yet know why. What kind of person would be driving through the desert in the middle of the night? she thought to herself. Minutes passed before Javier came back to her side. “We are in luck. They say they can drive us across for only $500," said Javier. “You said it was too dangerous to drive. You told me that at least a dozen times," she replied. “But this is different," he explained. “They are Americans who are on their way back. He said they know ofa route to get us safely across." “Well how did they find us?" Teresa asked. “—I don‘t know, but Teresa, if we take this ride, we will make it there safe." “Safe...” she mumbled. “It will be safer than walking, especially with these gringos. They may look scary, but they seem like decent guys," Javier said. Javier hurried back to the window and continued his conversation with the American. He beckoned for Teresa to come over, and opened the backseat door for her as she got in. 54 Show less
V. “Name‘s Hank," said the pasty American. turning around in the front seat. “This here is Marian." Hank pointed to the other man driving the SUV. He was massive, at least the size of three men, and his shirt was soaked with what Teresa considered sweat until she saw it dripping from his hair.... Show moreV. “Name‘s Hank," said the pasty American. turning around in the front seat. “This here is Marian." Hank pointed to the other man driving the SUV. He was massive, at least the size of three men, and his shirt was soaked with what Teresa considered sweat until she saw it dripping from his hair. Greasy black curls fell to his shoulders and she could almost taste the pomade dripping from the curls. “You two are pretty lucky we found ya," he said. “INS usually patrols this area intensely, but they don't know what the fuck is what sometimes." Hank laughed with a wide smile. “We arejust thankful to find a safer way across," Javier said. “We‘ll get you across. I have no doubts." Hank’s eyes drifted toward Teresa. “It‘ll be fine.” Javier reached for Teresa’s hand and pulled her to his side. Hank‘s gaze refo— cused back on Javier before he spoke again. “Yup. Pretty lucky indeed. See, me and Marian were down here doing a job," Hank explained. “Officially we are in the extermination business, taking life away from those creatures not worthy of it, when I spotted something mon’ng in the sand. So I say to Marian, let's check it out, you know, make a little extra money while helping those in need. We are real charitable. Marian and me." Javier‘s and Teresa‘s eyes met after Hank spoke. She felt a single uncontrolled tear run down her cheek. She wiped it away before the two in front could see. but she felt Javier's hand squeezing back; she knew she‘d be fine. VI. Silence filled the cabin of the SUV. N0 small talk, no chit chat; they just wanted to leave these men behind. Teresa looked up and focused her gaze on the orange hue that had grown tenfold from the tiny blip on the horizon. Road signs began to fly past. USA 4 MILES US/MEXICO BORDER 3 1/2 MILES Something something IS ILLEGAL HAVE PASSPORT(S) READY Each sign cut a little deeper. They had finally made it. She thought it would be impossible; Teresa Martinez could never be an American, but she was wrong. They would start a new life in America. A sudden turn off the road shook Teresa away from her thoughts. “Why did we turn off the road?" Javier asked. “Can‘t go straight through, especially with a couple of wetbacks in the trunk. We have our own way." Hank explained without turning around. He only pointed out the window toward the darkness. Marian must have done this before because his headlights were turned off as he sped through the sand. He drove frantically along for a few minutes before 55 Show less
they came to a stop. “Are we across?" Teresa asked. Hank didn‘t answer. He looked at Marian and they exchanged a nod. Hank turned around and said to Javier: “We need to have a word.” Hank opened his door and got out. He opened the back door, and told Javier to step out. Teresa had to stay. VII.... Show morethey came to a stop. “Are we across?" Teresa asked. Hank didn‘t answer. He looked at Marian and they exchanged a nod. Hank turned around and said to Javier: “We need to have a word.” Hank opened his door and got out. He opened the back door, and told Javier to step out. Teresa had to stay. VII. There was no need to worry; Hankjust had to give Javier advice for when they crossed. Teresa sat and watched as Javier's body reacted to whatever Hank had said. His arms flailed and pointed every which way. Marian was also watching the two converse, and after Javier’s movements became less than composed, he too got out of the SUV. Alone in the back seat, Teresa sat and watched. Marian had taken ground be- side Hank, arms crossed. Then, quicker than any man of his size should be able to move, Marian lunged and grabbed Javier from behind. He held him with his feet dangling as Hank threw fist after fist at him. “Javier!” she screamed. Punch after punch. She couldn‘t watch any more. She opened her door and ran for Hank with her bag in her arms. She wound up and swung at the pasty Ameri- can as he beat her fiancé. The bag bounced off his head, and Hank turned around. “So you want to play too," he said as the back of his palm ripped across her face. Teresa fell to the ground, and Hank mounted her, arms pinned by his knees. “You’re too pretty to cut, but struggling only makes it worse," he said as he stared into her eyes and sniffed her hair. “Let go of her!” Javier screamed. “As you wish,” Hank yelled, then with one swift fist he punched Teresa harder than she had ever been hit before. She lay in the sand, and Hank got up. “Hold him," he said to Marian as he walked back to the SUV. “Teresa. Teresa. Levantate! Levantate!" Javier screamed for her to get up, but she could barely move. Laying there her face on the sand, she saw Javier held immobile by Marian, and how could she save him? He was supposed to protect her. How had this even happened? She knew it was a bad idea. As he struggled, finally Javier connected with a head thrust backwards into Marian’s face. He recoiled from the hit, dropping Javier, who ran straight for Teresa. He bent down and sat her up to look at the bruise that already started to form. “We have to go, can you get up?“ Javier asked her. She never had heard his voice so shaky. “I'm sorr—" 56 Show less
A horrific crack shot in the air interrupted Javier, and the bullet from Hank‘s pistol dug deep into Javier’s back. His eyes rolled back deep within his head, and his body fell to the sand, Motionless and lifeless, his body lay face down in the sand. “Looks like there is no one here to protect you... Show moreA horrific crack shot in the air interrupted Javier, and the bullet from Hank‘s pistol dug deep into Javier’s back. His eyes rolled back deep within his head, and his body fell to the sand, Motionless and lifeless, his body lay face down in the sand. “Looks like there is no one here to protect you now chica," laughed Hank. VIII. They were both approaching her as she sat leaning over Javier‘s body. Teresa hurried to her feet and turned to run, but Hank grabbed a handful of her dark brown hair and threw her back down to the ground. “You can thank your cheap boyfriend for this," he said as he pinned her down again. “All I asked for was $500 more dollars and I guess you just weren’t worth it.” He trailed his hands down the slit of her blouse and ripped it at the seam. He brought his hands to her neck before he sat up to say, “Damn it, Marian! Can I get a little privacy?" Marian, visibly upset, turned and headed back for the SUV. “That’s better," Hank said. “Now where were we?" Hank lowered his face to Teresa‘s and smelt the perfume on her neck. His scarred tongue trailed up her neck and to her cheek. This was worse than any nightmare she had ever had. Her fiancé lay face down in the sand, dead, and she was on the cusp of the becoming the sexual release for these rapists. Javier would have never let this happen, but after all, he did let it happen. She felt betrayed by her fiancé, but she would not let herself die in the desert. She waited as Hank's tongue moved across her cheek to her lips. She waited forjust enough of the tongue to emerge before she reached out and bit down as hard as she could. She hit the whole way through. Her mouth was filled with blood which she spat back into his face. Hank reached for his mouth and rolled off Teresa as blood poured from both sides. “What happened?" called Marian as he ran toward Teresa. “She's getting away. Teresa rolled to her feet and sprinted to the only safe spot she could see, the black SUV, but Marian was still between them. As the two closed in on each oth— er. Teresa hurled her bag towards Marian's face. He caught the bag with a chuckle that was interrupted by Teresa's right foot connecting to his groin. Marian fell to the ground, and Teresa ran for the SUV. She got in and turned on the car. She shifted the car into drive and the tires spun as the SUV's headlights turned on. And there it was. The opening in the fence had been less than 100 yards away the entire time. The tires finally found traction in the sand and she sped off. lean'ng Hank and Marian, and Javier, behind. I 57 Show less
WALK, DON’T RUN D. E. Green Don‘t run on the pool deck or in the slush-slick winter lobbies of Minneapolis towers. Don't run in the supermarket, where you might smash your eggs— or your neighbor‘s. Walk, don’t run, at the airport where undue speed bespeaks terror. Take your time: Slow down for... Show moreWALK, DON’T RUN D. E. Green Don‘t run on the pool deck or in the slush-slick winter lobbies of Minneapolis towers. Don't run in the supermarket, where you might smash your eggs— or your neighbor‘s. Walk, don’t run, at the airport where undue speed bespeaks terror. Take your time: Slow down for children and old folks, the hearing- impaired and the blind, not to mention the deer and the squirrels, the rabbits, raccoons, and those strange swallow—like birds that swoop unexpectedly out of the fields and across the road right in front of your car. Don‘t run through the Abstract Expressionist galleries at the Walker. Walk— or you might miss a Kline or a Motherwell. Walk, don‘t run to your grandmother’s coffin, to your intended at the end of the aisle, and even into your lover‘s arms. Walk, don‘t run—or someone might get hurt. Walk, don’t run~or you might not remember how you got here. 59 Show less
CONTRIBUTORS Makoto Abe was born in 1985 in Ibaraki, Japan. She graduated from Musashino Art University in Tokyo in 2007, and began graduate courses the same year. She is currently attending Augsburg as part of an exchange program. Jakob Anderson is a freshman at Augsburg. He has always been... Show moreCONTRIBUTORS Makoto Abe was born in 1985 in Ibaraki, Japan. She graduated from Musashino Art University in Tokyo in 2007, and began graduate courses the same year. She is currently attending Augsburg as part of an exchange program. Jakob Anderson is a freshman at Augsburg. He has always been interested in photography. It brings stories to life and shares experiences with people who missed the opportunities you were lucky to have. BA. often wanders drunkenly in the hazy lamplights of the late night seeking to master himself, a philosophical mystic and poet; the only thing that truly matters is balance. Joe Brown took a web design class and suggests you check out his website, web. augsburg.edu/~brown3. Ted Conouer is a sophomore at Augsburg majoring in English: Literature, Lan— guage and Theory with a second discipline in Creative Writing. D. E. Green lives in Memorial 223. He is turning into a very large beetle. Sammie Guck is a Philosophy major from Perham, Minnesota. Her favorite poem is currently “Song and Story" by Ellen Bryant Voigt. Emin Hanson is a writer, designer, and editor who currently lives in Minneapo— lis, MN. She will graduate in May from Augsburg College's English department with a concentration in creative writing. Recently she completed two chapbooks— It's Okay I Understand, a collection of short stories, and [Underpinnings], a collection of non—fiction poetry and prose—and plans to continue writing in the various places and avenues life takes her. Jennifer L. Hipple is an Organizational Communications major. Follom'ng a 17— yEar "hiatus" from her college Studies, she is now wrapping up her BA and count— ing the days until she graduates in June. Colin Irvine teaches enjoys hanging out with his kids, skiing the steeps, running in the woods, and writing about life. He doesn't enjoy writing his bio. Cam N. Le is a member of the class of 2009 and is a Studio Arts major with a minor in Architecture. As an international student from Vietnam. she is proud to be fluent in both Eastern and Western cultures. ()1 Show less
Alissa Nallan is an English major with an emphasis in Creative Writing, with minors in German and Religion. She is a senior this year, graduating in December 2009. Ana Olson is ajunior, history major with English creative writing and sociology minors. Ana plans to spend fall semester abroad in... Show moreAlissa Nallan is an English major with an emphasis in Creative Writing, with minors in German and Religion. She is a senior this year, graduating in December 2009. Ana Olson is ajunior, history major with English creative writing and sociology minors. Ana plans to spend fall semester abroad in Kingston, England. Rebecca Reilly is a poet, photographer and painter trying to be ajournalist. She is a perpetual student at Augsburg College, the University of St. Thomas, the Loft, and the Experimental College of the Twin Cities. Andrea Sanow will graduate from Augsburg College in 2010 with a degree in English & Creative Writing. She has committed her life to irony and cream soda, respectively. David Siegfried, in his second Murphy Square after winning an Engman Prize for his fiction this spring, is a graduating senior this year from Chaska, Minnesota. Kayla Skarbakka graduates this year with an English major, emphasizing in both literature/language/theory and creative writing. God help her. Eric Tankel is 23 years old and a senior at Augsburg. He grew up in the suburbs west of Philadelphia. He enjoys writing, creating art, and going on adventures. Malena Thoson is currently studying abroad in Central America. When she returns, she will write more poems, drink chai tea, and watch “The X-Files." She will also graduate from Augsburg in 2010 with majors in English and Spanish. Cary Waterman’s last book of poems, When I Looked Back You Were Gone (Holy Cow! Press), was nominated for a Minnesota Book Award. Her poems are included in the anthologies To Sing Along the Way: Minnesota Women Poets from Pre-territorial Days to the Present and Where One Song Ends, Another Be— gins: 150 Years of Minnesota Poetry. She teaches at Augsburg College. Elizabeth Windsperger stops at Vietnamese restaurants whenever she gets the chance to eat pho and drink bubble tea. She also links taking walks by the river. Hannah Cushing, Joel Enright, Emily Paschke, andJesse Seward were unavail- able for comment. 62 Show less