The End Zack Curtis "Add more fuel, you idiots! It's getting colder!" The workers continued shoveling coal into the enormous furnaces. The heat- ers rattled above their heads, becoming weaker as the temperature slowly dropped. Many of the workers lay unconscious on the floor, exhausted from their... Show moreThe End Zack Curtis "Add more fuel, you idiots! It's getting colder!" The workers continued shoveling coal into the enormous furnaces. The heat- ers rattled above their heads, becoming weaker as the temperature slowly dropped. Many of the workers lay unconscious on the floor, exhausted from their labor. The red work clothes they wore clung to their bodies, moving up and down with every heaving breath. "Damn it, we'll never make it! There's not much time left!" Frost began to form on the walls, and the workers saw their breath for the first time in what felt like forever. At least since... "Don't stop, you morons!" The men were done. They had no desire to continue. They'd suffered long enough for their mistakes. They lay their tools down, resting upon the icy floor as snow fell around them. No more pain. It would soon be over. Slowly, they began to freeze in place, never having to put up with the horrible strain of their tasks again. "You don't understand... we can't...stop working...or we'll all die...again." And Hell froze over. Murphy Square 85 Show less
forever lost spending and being spent exchanged between groping hands nights passed swaddled in unfamiliar climates mornings of empty sun our bodies do not linger long but the dullness of a smothered heart of trampled—on beliefs of trying to ache remains disguising any hope Murphy Square 57
Heroin Cami Harris dreams only semi-dreams of bleeding wine and sharing needles exchanging looks of insecurity among the pangs of stress holding off for another day yet...investing in death now I'm sitting alone with an insipid gaze mortar grudgingly pulses its way through an aged body not once... Show moreHeroin Cami Harris dreams only semi-dreams of bleeding wine and sharing needles exchanging looks of insecurity among the pangs of stress holding off for another day yet...investing in death now I'm sitting alone with an insipid gaze mortar grudgingly pulses its way through an aged body not once young memory is paper the silence occurs to me it blows over me dark, serene, its boughs filling in the negative space just out of reach I am caged under the stained contours of sound, sight, and soul I am waiting for a flood Murphy Square 1 3 Show less
But beyond what any synthesizer could provide let our pleasure resound and surrond by removing this leather sole from nature's fine work and brushing the lint opff my instrument When your theme has been developed may I try yours in return? Nerves ever—tuned to sound this duet like a harp's... Show moreBut beyond what any synthesizer could provide let our pleasure resound and surrond by removing this leather sole from nature's fine work and brushing the lint opff my instrument When your theme has been developed may I try yours in return? Nerves ever—tuned to sound this duet like a harp's glissando through intricate pathways from a hand's creative freedom for vibratos to accompany an in-Oborn high digital resoilution A healthy indulgence we chanced to improvise from the bottom of our beings on upward finding a harmonious end in deeply satisfied smiles The kind that stems from their being two virtuosos afoot Murphy Square 67 Show less
Kansas Native ...28 Eldon Potter Blue Willow 29 Julie Trafl Prisons 30 Deborah Maietta Shadows of The Valley 33 Jon S. Olsen Thane 0f Cawdor 34 Scott Solberg Dear Mrs. Lewis ‘6 Edward Raupp I Mahabilipuram 38 Dana Bulzow 0 Still Life 39 Hilde Brdten Sestina for a Memorial Day 40 Edward Raupp '... Show moreKansas Native ...28 Eldon Potter Blue Willow 29 Julie Trafl Prisons 30 Deborah Maietta Shadows of The Valley 33 Jon S. Olsen Thane 0f Cawdor 34 Scott Solberg Dear Mrs. Lewis ‘6 Edward Raupp I Mahabilipuram 38 Dana Bulzow 0 Still Life 39 Hilde Brdten Sestina for a Memorial Day 40 Edward Raupp ' Shadows 42 Steven Taff - Thighs ...43 Marilyn Vick Being Stacked In A Cool, Dark Place 44 Rob Voedixch Missing, Found, Lost Shayna Schaefler - The Wizard ..54 Lynn Ballman ' Morning Scene 55 Jen Moore Squashed-up-Expanding-Numb S6 Cami Harris - Bus Stop 58 Dana Bulzow - Conic Section 59 Christian Griebenaw Unmixcd Color 60 Chad I’ierro The First Thing I Say ..62 Edward Rnupp Murphy Square 3 Show less
"Which one do you want?" She chose the light And I chose the dark Because the light was gone I see her still, and I love her still Not because I need to Not because I have to Not because I want to But because she has the light And sometimes I want to see it Because I get tired of the dark And the... Show more"Which one do you want?" She chose the light And I chose the dark Because the light was gone I see her still, and I love her still Not because I need to Not because I have to Not because I want to But because she has the light And sometimes I want to see it Because I get tired of the dark And the color of light Falls with directionless magic Murphy Square 61 Show less
Empty promises from government and hot air blown by the vast majority of the majority ...the reality-still unaccepting. So the struggle for freedom i.e. justice continues... and we continue to celebrate only the beginnings of the dream. 1. U2 Rattle and Hum "Pride" 2. Malcolm X 3. Star Tribune, "... Show moreEmpty promises from government and hot air blown by the vast majority of the majority ...the reality-still unaccepting. So the struggle for freedom i.e. justice continues... and we continue to celebrate only the beginnings of the dream. 1. U2 Rattle and Hum "Pride" 2. Malcolm X 3. Star Tribune, " Latest Racial Crime Moves New Yorkers." 1/11/92. 4. Star Tribune, "Craig Murdered, Officials Say." 1/16/92. 5. KMOJ radio 6. US. Constitution 7. Ice-T. Original Gangster, "Midnite." 8. Public Enemy. Fear of a Black Planet "Welcome to the Terrordome." 9. Public Enemy. Fear ofa Black Planet "Contractof the Whole World Jam." 10. Public Enemy. Fear of a Black Planet "Brothers Gonna Work it Out." 11. James Baldwin. The Fire Next Time. New York Dial Press, 1963. 12. John Lennon "Imagine." 13. Paul M. Sniderman. "The New Racism." American Journal of Political Science 35 (1991) p. 443. Lil Murphy Square 1 7 Show less
Last Year Deborah Maietta I watched Maria die Not the way you watch a movie. Or a race. More the way you watch a day pass or an eclipse. Last spring she planted herbs and tea roses and wildflowers and tumors Or maybe they spread while we shared wine and fire in that wind—riddled cabin. Or they... Show moreLast Year Deborah Maietta I watched Maria die Not the way you watch a movie. Or a race. More the way you watch a day pass or an eclipse. Last spring she planted herbs and tea roses and wildflowers and tumors Or maybe they spread while we shared wine and fire in that wind—riddled cabin. Or they swelled while she raked leaves to mulch - or before when she cut her hair to cool her neck. We'd been a year in coming to the place where she lay barely a ripple in the sheets, her chest too slight to mark its movement. I watched but never saw her eyes close. Must have looked away for just a moment toward the hall perhaps where women in white stockings passed on soft-soles shoes. Or out the window where street lamps tapered to night. Or I might have simply blinked. 10‘ Show less
Missing, Found, Lost Shayna Schaeffer Solid flesh squeezing through concrete walls One sound resonates amoung millions pressing towards nauure's womb Scabbed Orifice excretes a classification while my soul evaporates into maternal nothingness Lips shed nonsense blinding eyes from truth Behind the... Show moreMissing, Found, Lost Shayna Schaeffer Solid flesh squeezing through concrete walls One sound resonates amoung millions pressing towards nauure's womb Scabbed Orifice excretes a classification while my soul evaporates into maternal nothingness Lips shed nonsense blinding eyes from truth Behind the iris Liquid salt trickling down through membranes slowly hoping to drain this body of Cell Murphy Square Weary is my soul traveling endlessly through chaotic matter only to see your minute figure between extremes United at last when suddenly your body levitates while it‘s heavy echo knocks my head way down here. 53 Show less
Rattle, Don't Hum Mitchal McGrath "Early morning, April 4. A shot rings out in the Memphis sky." 1 In the struggle for freedom you must be prepared to kill and prepared to die. 2 "Free at last, they took your life They could not take your pride." 1 "A bias crime doesn't just affect the immediate... Show moreRattle, Don't Hum Mitchal McGrath "Early morning, April 4. A shot rings out in the Memphis sky." 1 In the struggle for freedom you must be prepared to kill and prepared to die. 2 "Free at last, they took your life They could not take your pride." 1 "A bias crime doesn't just affect the immediate victims, but all members of the victims' group." 3 "Earl Craig Jr....Head of Minneapolis Revitalization Program... longtime political activist...died from a stab wound in the neck." 4 We're not sure why the information took so long to surface... Plan of action...p-plan-plan of action? "Documentation of a consistent nonconcern for the disenfranchised." 5 People oriented economy? What. What? "For the people, by the people." ? 6 "...each of those members respond in a different manner... deep sorrow, anguish, deep anger - and they act that anger out." 3 "Midnight, time for a homicide." 7 14— Show less
father’s arms. The Sears hummed without rhythm or order, prone to sputtefings and sudden kills. On this sunny morning, I was unloading the bails from the wagon at a furious pace. My father was having trouble keeping up. He was dropping bails, calling out for me to slow down, to give him more time... Show morefather’s arms. The Sears hummed without rhythm or order, prone to sputtefings and sudden kills. On this sunny morning, I was unloading the bails from the wagon at a furious pace. My father was having trouble keeping up. He was dropping bails, calling out for me to slow down, to give him more time between each one. I would, for about four or five bails. Then, I‘d pick up where I left off. My dad was overrun with marauding alfalfa. I don’t know why I did it. The easy answer is that I was hot, tired, etcetera. It was work, after all. And I always did sweat, even on the mild days; even on the mild days like this one. But, there was another reason for my militant approach to unloading. I can't really explain it, it was a thought foreign to me on all days but hay days. I don’t know why, but I felt like I had to get the bails in the barn, like they could not be left in the sun. Not because the unloading was a chore that I had to complete. But, because, for some unknown reason I placed a lot of my ill will on top those bails. They became effigies of sorts, symbols of things I hated, straw voodoo dolls of people I despised. They really did. It worked, though. The whole process of unloading became therapy. And I had found no side effects, other than the fact that I tended to become more irritable the closer I got to a hay day. I became more sensitive. That’s OK. I needed to feel angry. There were a lot of bails and I didn’t know that many people. I needed to spread it around. I guess my frenzied attitude toward getting the bails unloaded and stacked had gotten worse when I started realizing that many of the farms surrounding ours were going belly up; the American farmer was really taking some lumps. It made me angry, mainly because I knew that that could never happen to us. Never. We were only hobby farmers, and I guess I felt guilty. I guess I was trying to compensate. Anyway, the place I imagined the bails to be traveling to was a cool, dark place. Don’t ask me why. Ijust did. The hay loft was not cool or dark. It was hot. Its tin roof prevented it from becoming anything but an oven when the sun rolled over it. It was not dark. The same tin roof would cast an alabaster hue throughout the hay loft. The white ceiling, whether illuminated by nature or by a GE 60 Watt, reminded me of a science lab...sterile and bright Still, that is where I thought the bails went. To a cool, dark place. I watched the hay ride up the ‘vator into the inviting recesses of our barn. I don‘t know why. Murphy Square 45 Show less
I whisper Roll over where I can reach you. He barely breathes. He cannot move. At last he lifts a square-tipped finger taps it on stiff sheets. Taps a tune his trumpet played in Catholic bands a tune that haunts him for the words he cannot recall. Murphy Square He taps a finger that pressed... Show moreI whisper Roll over where I can reach you. He barely breathes. He cannot move. At last he lifts a square-tipped finger taps it on stiff sheets. Taps a tune his trumpet played in Catholic bands a tune that haunts him for the words he cannot recall. Murphy Square He taps a finger that pressed valves that pressed triggers that pressed pencils that pressed me. My fingertip is round. My memory sharp. I remember words he should have said. I remember square-tipped fingers at his forehead when the flag was raised but never at my back when l faltered. Show less
