Table of Contents Clay Sculpture Anna [Jena Heimdal the bloodllon' poems Aaron Gabriel Patience of Dark Amy N. Covington Howling ((lIlCl‘ Allen Ginsberg) Amanda Blair Indian Summer Mark Jackson Alpha Lok M. 1m tishlails Chad Albert Sellers America Is Great John Mltcllell 'll'lll Brown Pat Lotte... Show moreTable of Contents Clay Sculpture Anna [Jena Heimdal the bloodllon' poems Aaron Gabriel Patience of Dark Amy N. Covington Howling ((lIlCl‘ Allen Ginsberg) Amanda Blair Indian Summer Mark Jackson Alpha Lok M. 1m tishlails Chad Albert Sellers America Is Great John Mltcllell 'll'lll Brown Pat Lotte Odegaard Colorless Confusion Ryan Speed Street Akiko [In The Inst Book ol'Hours DE, Green Paradise Kimberly Dilmxro Gender. Race. and Class (lei) DE. Green Sex Cheri johnson Dc‘lfl'c’l‘lllg Kimberly Dilauro Dix!) of Fun Ellle Holzemer l\) b; N 4. M an I\. <71 I\: «I Show less
Sex You are ruining my fun. All of you blubbering in front of a mirror. “There are only three things worth while - “fighting, drinking, and making love." says Katherine Gerould. I would add cheating to the list, another thing once causing interesting guilt. Ah. the satisfying guilt. Do I hurt him... Show moreSex You are ruining my fun. All of you blubbering in front of a mirror. “There are only three things worth while - “fighting, drinking, and making love." says Katherine Gerould. I would add cheating to the list, another thing once causing interesting guilt. Ah. the satisfying guilt. Do I hurt him.” Do] let her? Do! run awayonenight? Now that was some gratifying guilt. You can make a poem out of that. in the best cases. and even in the worst. a inacle»t'or~T\' movie. But this; oh. please. You had a chance with Monica Lewinski. Ruined. Instead of being intrigued. you joined her high school teachers in being baffled. “How could this have happened. when she‘s always been so heavy?" Monica walks to you with her curvy rear. and knows she looks hot. I‘m tired of assuring you that yes. of course you look just like Cindy Crawford, because you will never. in all your life. I am sick. too. of Everyone is beauliliil in his or her own way. Everyone is not beautiful. Eveiyone is sexy. And that is what we should be concerned about. And all the fighting and drinking and swearing and dancing ittld loving. and shoulng and eating and sobbing; in short. eveiything that comes of it. and everything that brings it up. Cheri johnson IV ~i Show less
closet, along with the dress. She put her pajamas on and slipped into bed. Quickly she fell asleep. That night the first storm of the winter began. Snow covered everything in sight in just under an hour. It was going to be a blizzard, the newscasters predicted. The grass took on the guise of... Show morecloset, along with the dress. She put her pajamas on and slipped into bed. Quickly she fell asleep. That night the first storm of the winter began. Snow covered everything in sight in just under an hour. It was going to be a blizzard, the newscasters predicted. The grass took on the guise of purity and the trees shivered in their nakedness. The white picket fences camouflaged themselves among the heaps of snow. The birds became quiet as the snow fell from the sky. The snow covered everything, including Henrietta’s refuge in the forest. Her heart was now lying under feet of snow. Upon awakening the next morning, she would learn that her grandparents had died driving in the storm. Snow now blanketed them. The world became ice. The warmth of that day was com~ pletely erased. Eventually the ice would melt, and the warmth would come back. but Henrietta had now felt the frost, and the fences would forever remind her that she could never feel true warmth again. Mark Jackson Show less
from They Come Together at the Knees Like A Heart fesus.fesus._lesus — he will not leave me alone. I sleep and dream. He wants me to look like him; I let him braid my hair. His legs brush lightly against my arms. He combs and combs. and then his hands are on my scalp. his fingers reaching up... Show morefrom They Come Together at the Knees Like A Heart fesus.fesus._lesus — he will not leave me alone. I sleep and dream. He wants me to look like him; I let him braid my hair. His legs brush lightly against my arms. He combs and combs. and then his hands are on my scalp. his fingers reaching up under thick locks of hair to scratch and rub my scalp. while he plaits and weaves. Sometimes I lean my head against his knee. and he lets it stay there. stroking my head. until he gives me a tap and then [giggle and sit up again. I want you to tell me a story. he begs. My lips stretch across my teeth. and I look down and smile at his feet. [need so many stories and I don 't have one. So I begin to speak. keeping my voice as low and calm as quiet water. and he says. [Is like poem: don ’I stop. please. please don ’I stop. He pauses in his braiding to cup my head completely with his warm palms. and he presses them tightly into my skull until I feel his fingers arch. t can feel the braid loosen and unravel. I don‘t stop. I tell him a story about the sun and the wind. then one about the beginning ot’ the earth. and then others. more and more. about boats and animals and dances. and women and men. and children who are only one inch high. and the mothers who pick them up out of the sand and hold them between their fingers. I need more. he says. His voice rises on each word, [need as much as you can give me. and so I keep speak~ ing. keeping it rhythmical and beautiful. and when we begin to sing his hands shudder on my head. There are two women in a bingo parlor. I say. They meet there. at their little section of a long table. One of them slams her list down on the table. and the other sighs and looks toward the door with her arms crossed. They look at each other. and the one with her hands in (1515 finally shrugs and smiles. Let me buy you your next card. says the first woman 7 as in. the t'isted woman. who is wearing leg warmers and has her hair tied back with a coarse cord that is almost a grey rope; as in. the first one to talk. Tliank1mu. says the second. the calmer one. She brings a tin- ger to her mouth and taps it on her tooth before taking a little nibble. But I wonder il'l'll win. because I have not been having much luck. Oh. what ’5 luck? What's luck. says the second. I ll show you whal’s luck. And she takes out her assemblage ot‘ trinkets. things that have been so dear to her that she would not come here without them. She his a ticket to a play. an orange crayon. a cheap ring. a red scarf. Those look like signs of love. They'd have Io be. says the second. She pushes her fingernail into the crayon and stares at It. Show less
Special Thanks: Flaire Printing, Norman Holen, Phil Thompscn, Kristin Anderson, and the rest of the art depart~ ment. the English department, Cathy Peters, Augsburg Security. Martha Johnson, Tara Shaet‘fer, Boyd Koehler and anyone else who listened to us complain about this book. This book is... Show moreSpecial Thanks: Flaire Printing, Norman Holen, Phil Thompscn, Kristin Anderson, and the rest of the art depart~ ment. the English department, Cathy Peters, Augsburg Security. Martha Johnson, Tara Shaet‘fer, Boyd Koehler and anyone else who listened to us complain about this book. This book is dedicated to the memory, family and friends of Antonio Rumpza. Unfortunately, due to time constrictions of publication, we could not get any ot‘ his written work in here, Hopefully these words suffice. —The Editors Show less
Augsburg College Lindell Library Minneapolis, MN 55454 We told them they weren’t getting paid ~ but they came anyway... Art Editor Till Malaskc Asst. Art Editor jennifcr chscnbrink Literary Editors Mark Jackson Megan Lichty Our Angel CltCt‘i_[OltttSOtt Photography Dale Dehmer Photography Advisor... Show moreAugsburg College Lindell Library Minneapolis, MN 55454 We told them they weren’t getting paid ~ but they came anyway... Art Editor Till Malaskc Asst. Art Editor jennifcr chscnbrink Literary Editors Mark Jackson Megan Lichty Our Angel CltCt‘i_[OltttSOtt Photography Dale Dehmer Photography Advisor Cass Dalglisli Cover Art C._l. Mace Literary Board Visual Art Board Amanda Blair ‘lcssica Bauer Mario Macaruso Kimberly DiLauro jessie Means .lolynn Games Brian Minogue Ellie Holzcmer Beth Stockbridge Dan Luedtke Copyright 1999 by the authors and artists, All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be rein-minced in tiny torni or by any means, electronic or mechanian including photocopy. \yithout permission from the indivtduul authors and Artists: Show less
7% During the Bed! Movement Chad Albert Sellers Piece Dc Resistance John Mitchell September Jennifer chscnbrink Plaster Sculpture Luke Tokheim from They Come 'lbgcthcr 1n the Knees Like A Heart Cheri Johnson Alexei T._l. Malaske Corn Bales Norman Helen A Game ofBoxes Chad Albert Sellers Gimffesic... Show more7% During the Bed! Movement Chad Albert Sellers Piece Dc Resistance John Mitchell September Jennifer chscnbrink Plaster Sculpture Luke Tokheim from They Come 'lbgcthcr 1n the Knees Like A Heart Cheri Johnson Alexei T._l. Malaske Corn Bales Norman Helen A Game ofBoxes Chad Albert Sellers Gimffesic Park Eldrid Utseth Green Pol Jolynn Garnes Trash for the 215! Cenlury john Milchell Comments 3 8 3 S) 4 O 4] 4 3 44 Show less
Philosophies.... Megan Lichty: Ellie Holzemer: Mark Jackson: Mario Macaruso: Cheri Johnson: Czar T.J.: Amanda Blair: Anonymous: Mark Jackson: Cinnamon makes me barf... Think of yourself as creative ~ question the world around you Some people never go crazy ~ but truly boring lives they must lead.... Show morePhilosophies.... Megan Lichty: Ellie Holzemer: Mark Jackson: Mario Macaruso: Cheri Johnson: Czar T.J.: Amanda Blair: Anonymous: Mark Jackson: Cinnamon makes me barf... Think of yourself as creative ~ question the world around you Some people never go crazy ~ but truly boring lives they must lead... B. Lawless. My nipples get perky when it’s cold. I do believe that I have actually had sex with Jesus. Guess who’s Jesus! I am pleased to announce that Mark [Jackson] now knows who Allen Ginsberg is. The members of the Murphy Square have got to be the sexiest people on campus! I am a practicing Cattleologist. 44 Show less
their backs. your braids swinging behind your head like ropes. and I come next to you and slightly behind, my hair also still in braids. so that we look very much alike, When you raise your hand I shiver at the mundness of your pale arm. and watch your sleeve slide down on it and gather in a fold... Show moretheir backs. your braids swinging behind your head like ropes. and I come next to you and slightly behind, my hair also still in braids. so that we look very much alike, When you raise your hand I shiver at the mundness of your pale arm. and watch your sleeve slide down on it and gather in a fold at your armpit. The captain. who is standing on a wooden [vs so he can see eveiyone. nods at you. You pull me up next to you and put your hand on my arm. and I look L own at your fingers will: affection. But this islesus. you say. looking for now only at the cap- lain. This is. in thetnlesus. Who gets logo that: women. orjesns? Fora moment then.- is silence. Then people teem to ieally deliberate. Women orjesu ‘17 jesus. who s yes. or women. who are women? Well,_lesus does have to die. says someone in a lieneheoal and lifejaeket. Does it count it' he dmwns? asks someone else. I think maybe he has to hang somewhere. or bleed, People are looking at me. One women reaches out and pokes at my face. He looks pretty young. too. she says. Look at that skin. It‘s a little blotehy. but that young s ‘11. Yes. you say. lttt'ttt'ttfl to the woman, and now you begin to address the whole assembly. turning amund as you speak and always keeping your hand on my arm. He's only SIXICCIL And he must bleed but not die; or. rather. he must bleed and then sort oldie. the "son ol“ being the way that his death will only last for a little wlnle: m whieh case. it‘s not really a death. but only a lennvraiy lapse of regular life. What in the hell is she talking about? a young man inulters. You look right at him. and open your mouth to speak. but someone else does. the fits! peison who spoke. We‘re all supposed to get that. that lenuvoraiy lapse. says the first person. Yes. you fmmjesus. Yes. from Jesus. says the first person. But who says ll has to happen exactly your way? You? He's no llzirtydln‘ee. says the woman who poked at my 111.. I don "I think it will work. What diffeienee does his age make? asks someone else. For goodness sakes. don 't you read? The woman rolls her eyes and sits down on the deck. As far as I'm contented. I don‘t eare who goes first. Even'onejust step over me. It's all over for all of us. anyway. It's a cold night. It's an awfully cold night, Then someone else speaks who has been quiet the whole time. I don’t believe in it. she says. I don't believe in any of it. exeepl as metaphor, And neither do you. she says. and she's pointing atyou._lesus says to me. lifting one corner of his mouth into a rueiul half-smile. You know she ’s pointing at you. Cheri Johnson Show less
Patience of Dark Even now there are no lights in Notre Dame. except the stained glass windows. their circular prisms casting Virgin Mary in blues and reds on stone tiles like wine bottles in the sun. Saintly icons : ire blankly from immortal oak canisters. offering what wisdom they are allowed to... Show morePatience of Dark Even now there are no lights in Notre Dame. except the stained glass windows. their circular prisms casting Virgin Mary in blues and reds on stone tiles like wine bottles in the sun. Saintly icons : ire blankly from immortal oak canisters. offering what wisdom they are allowed to give. I‘m more interested in the architecture: sculpted frieze above the door. gargoyles still watching street vendors solicit the Seine. One could buy postcards for 10 francs. prayer candles for Z. I bought a candle. though I'm not Catholic. I think about converting. lured by unfamiliar sacraments. kneeled in front of Main clasped hands. I watch other women kneel before her. light candles and whisper prayers in French. I think of my own church. hear clapping hands and belting prayers. laments to jesus. it is Mary here. in her womanly way of nurturing. It is quiet here. no hands reaching toward the Nave. the Nave. The walls hold their breath, exhale a millennium of sighs. it is the darkness and the separateness that holds me. knowing that you exist in one place. that you stand apart and before Mary. the mother of us all. The mother who will wait. her patience cast in shadow and faint light. Amy N. Covington Show less
America Is Great America is great. Also rich And powerful. Plenty to eat. No doubt unique. But that‘s All in the past. Time to move On. To more. And better. America will my anything If given half a chance. America is like a movie, isn‘t It? Peculiar violence. fast Paced. dubious plot, glittering... Show moreAmerica Is Great America is great. Also rich And powerful. Plenty to eat. No doubt unique. But that‘s All in the past. Time to move On. To more. And better. America will my anything If given half a chance. America is like a movie, isn‘t It? Peculiar violence. fast Paced. dubious plot, glittering Stars with a new face. ears Pulled back. chins firmed up. Hair never in the same place. America is 21 Talk Show. You Show me yours. I‘ll show you Mine. Let‘s talk about it. Let‘s say yours looks great, Mine too. The audience cheers. What Americans need is expose. A steady diet of kill or be Killed on the food chain of life. let‘s celebrate, let’s slam dance. Let‘s put a lot of stock in ourselves. John Mitchell 10 Show less
an unattractive boy. He was a bit gangly, thin and tall, and wore homed-iim glasses that were too small for his head. His teeth were slightly crooked and yellow when he smiled. He got up from his place across from her and sat down on the ground next to her. He furnished a beaten up pack of... Show morean unattractive boy. He was a bit gangly, thin and tall, and wore homed-iim glasses that were too small for his head. His teeth were slightly crooked and yellow when he smiled. He got up from his place across from her and sat down on the ground next to her. He furnished a beaten up pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and pinched one out. He held the pack in front of her face and she shook her head “no.” “Yeah, these are the old man’s l snuck ‘em out of his coat when he was asleep. I know he’s forgotten about ‘em, ‘cause it’s already been two days and he ain’t come looking for ‘em yet.” He felt around inside his pants and pulled out a book of matches. It had a black gloss look with a pair of a woman’s crossed legs on the front. There was a slogan too, but he had already lit the match and put the book away before she could see what it said. He inhaled deeply and in turn, started coughing violently until tears formed in his eyes. “I love the first drag on a smoke, y’knou’!” he said after finally regaining enough air to speak “Who are you?” Henrietta finally asked him after clearing out the initial shock of him being there upon awak— ening. She had now become a little infuriated by the fact that he was sitting next to her in the forest-park that was hers. The smell of the cigarette was becoming annoying to her because it was a cheap cigarette. Her father smoked, but only the best, and Henrietta had fallen in love with the smell of those. Yet, she didn’t move from her spot. She was capti- vated by the fact that a boy, obviously older than she, was speaking to her. And even though he wasn’t the best thing to look at, he wasn’t the worst either, and the fact that he was looking at her and talking to her aroused her in ways she hadn’t felt yet. A sudden surge rippled through her body and made her shiver. “I’m sorry, I’m such a big jerk. I’m always forget— ting those things, that’s why I don’t hang around with many people. I’m Aaron. I go to Prescott High and I’m just a little bit away from being able to drive around by myself. That’ll be cool. i can pick you up and we can go get a burger or something, or maybe climb into the back if y’know what l mean!” He nudged her and grinned. She helplessly grinned Show less
Howling after Allen Ginsberg I have seen the best inspiration of my generation fall and succumb putty in the hands of fate breathless unable to stand beautiful with effort or rise. rise phoenix from ash scorched with repression coal to diamond splendor who heard the voice of Waylon jennings give... Show moreHowling after Allen Ginsberg I have seen the best inspiration of my generation fall and succumb putty in the hands of fate breathless unable to stand beautiful with effort or rise. rise phoenix from ash scorched with repression coal to diamond splendor who heard the voice of Waylon jennings give birth to years and a name to travel with history and fingertips with theory. words it is all about words \Vho became the mark of graphs mapping out pedophile gestures across her innocence they screwed more than her hxly Who vanquished in Mazuo's backyard under watch guards in leaf topped treefons spectator to purity of heart tumbling. cmhing down with a cherry on top just the beginning of Pandora’s box flooding the future waves of fate marked and mangJed on ajune afternoon who spread it open forjambox county road 18 late n'ghts with 30's metal rock of ACDC ADORT. impressions of the view spinning unfocused moments in back seats of steamed bronco windows playirg out secrets like dice rolling out of riotous palms weaved twisted in some parking lot with the get out bitch ringing in the rise of recollection how we shape it how it was shaped who drew the burden football surerstar big power play of sexual misconduct of girlfriends friends smooth mesenger Adam car rides conquered driveways of hands pillaging thighs never aimed blame disfigured beauty in the hospital bed big power play man riddled with cancer riddled with karma \Vho tattooed Indian ink words epitome of Rockford drug addicts misfits sexual fiends friends in times of then times of now the silk spun around lives of the clan variance strikes the nail into forever \Vho werewolf stories Sunday morning brought it down to the Bopsy Feathermop of black fury kicking ass carvitg names of the dead underworld of imagination shape shifler moon dancer teeth to suck away actuality and the ideal of once a week slaughtered page turned for the next chronicle around the table of God Marc himself story teller mrgic mage man Who meet the girl on Horde too much LfiD mixed drink of ropinal high rise stars and forgetful liquid droppers overwhelming lady‘s lips and Allen the Melancholy Man rooftops off Hemnt and 43rd waiting room filled with chameleons and maimed animals all awaitirg their ecstasy of demise or tomorrow Who cut the line sugar plump fairy of birthday irrationality and dirty couch fiesta too much glory in the happy center brain wave dance frantic mania and weepless sleepless eyes you can’t stop it once it has begun who drove the roads to meet the love who was never existed until it left to marry nightmares of back driven memories of he did this and he said that he who raped and stole reverence change comes with the purchases of life they both got ripped off who meet the music man tapped the light in impenetrable darkness of molested soul and abused body clear the path to liberation honeyed weaver hunt down reveries of a few years and a recant of pool barn days yoth meets truth when credence thinned out and heaven stmd in a tall frame and matted dreads who electrified the shoulder of interest with interview over coffee and a lost religion to demystify ancestral gifts and stone hedge calendars Goddess Crone of witcher priestess of high magic come to encircle her heal from liars and thieves of churches and individual soul strainers claim retribution in bookish lore of insanity and millions of deaths to appease the one fuck that gave me craft \Vho meet on samhain Arizona fields of black capes and honor the expired to moan and wail 10 Show less