MCR Spring 2011 PDF

Marine Creek refleCtions
TarranT CounTy College norThwesT Volume 12
Inside the Frame
2011 Fine arTs liTerary Journal
Marine Creek refleCtions
Inside the Frame

2011 Fine arTs liTerary Journal
TarranT CounTy College norThwesT
Volume 12
Living Galleries
The art collected at Tarrant County College Northwest Campus is created in our studios by students enrolled in our courses and taught by our instructors. Since students produce real, relevant, and vital works onsite, their selected art never leaves its birthplace. This collection reflects what Donald Judd achieved with his installations through the Chinati Foundation in Marfa, Texas. He wrote, My work and that of my contemporaries that I acquired was not made to be property. Its simply art. I want the work that I have made to remain that way. It is not on the market, not for sale, not subject to the ignorance of the public, not open to perversion. The collection has power because it reflects and symbolizes student learning and achievements. In each work, viewers find requirements of the assignment, demonstrations of technique, individual student thumbprints, and critical thinking from the content to the titles. When visitors walk into the exhibits, they have to be told that the art is by students because the work is too compelling to be thought of as an assignment for a college-credit grade. The collection began with some best-of-show student art pieces, and in 1996 Dr. Gloria Mills, Dean of Mathematics and Sciences, and I with faculty assistance began purchasing student art with our own money and donating the works to the College. We were willing to pay the price because the work was too important to leave the campus. It illustrates art produced in our studios, provides art for study, and beautifies the campus. Gaile Robinson, art and design critic for the Fort Worth StarTelegram, saw our student works at an exhibition and wrote, The paintings were impressivehigh-quality, unique subject matter, a fresh approach from unknown hands. A closer inspection revealed the unlikely source: Tarrant County Colleges sleepy Northwest Campus. But this wasnt a faculty exhibit. These were student works, hanging next to some of the best offerings from commercial galleries in Fort Worth. And the student work didnt suffer in comparison. It held its own, the result of a thriving but low-profile student art program at TCC that is producing standout results. Students, faculty, staff, administrators, and the community celebrate this collection that reflects the teaching, learning, and vibrancy of Tarrant County College Northwest Campus. Mike Matthews, Dean of Humanities
Editorial Staff
Theresa D. Heflin, B.S., M.S., Ed.S.
Faculty Editor
Patricia Ann Kimble

Graphic Designer, Photography
Chip Cogswell
Videographer
Rita Short
Staff Photographer
Andrew Derry, Student

General Editor
Casey Mitchell, Student Jordyn Walters, Student

General Editor General Editor
Student Staff Editors

Shirley Dendrinos Katheran Gardner Matthew McDermott Daniel Moore Lacie Ralls Nieve Reyes Liliana Rodriguez Bethany Sanderson Candace Turner
Marine Creek Reflection 2011 received invaluable assistance from the following:
Rick Heyser, Ph.D. & Staff, Tarrant County College Northeast Printing Services Mike Matthews, Dean of Humanities, Tarrant County College Northwest Campus Kiki Robbirds, Graphic Services, Tarrant County College Northwest Campus Teri Tooley, Humanities, Tarrant County College Northwest Campus Julian Gaton, Fine Arts, Tarrant County College Northwest Campus
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this legacy to those who yet may be.
Editors Notes
In the 12 years Marine Creek Reflections has been in existence, its form has dramatically changed and evolved. The following pages have been built by the passionate force of writers, the uncharted verisimilitude of artisans, and now the aural and kinetic grace of musicians and performers of all styles. Marine Creek Reflections isnt just a magazine filled with hard work of students; it isnt just text, paint, film and music. It is art. Every picture and every word is placed with precision. The chaotic, crazed days and the countless hours we, the editors, have spent in revision and in choosing works of art have not only left us with an extraordinary chronicle of talent but with a tightly woven bond between the team of editors. The journey of the flair, the balance and the intellect that has passed from the printed artist has finally completed its odyssey as it rests in your hands. Now to you, the reader, we bequeath a glimpse into the world of our castle here by the water, and from those who were, and from those who are, we lay down
1Jordyn Walters, General Editor, Text Andrew Deery, General Editor, Art Casey Mitchell, General Editor, DVD
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Table of Contents
Fingertips .................................. Rileigh Sanders .................... 2 Music ....................................... Kimberly Robertson............... 3 Benny and the Jets (Art) .............. Celia Cortez ........................ 3 American Spirit .......................... Lacie Ralls ........................... 4 Table for One (Art) ..................... Sarah Wilson....................... 5 Sunny Days ............................... Lilly Rodriguez ..................67 Am I Forgotten? ......................... Briana Bacon ....................... 8 Moscas (Art) .............................. Abigail M. Hernandez .......... 8 Who is She?.............................. Nieves Reyes ....................... 9 Self Portrait III (Art) ..................... Sophia Ceballos................... 9 Visions of the Future ................... Candace Turner ................. 10 Haiku ....................................... Bethany Sanderson ............. 10 Hope and Perserverance (Art)...... Lisa Boyd .......................... 10 Marionette ................................ Brittney Schmelter ............... 11 Lion and Lady (Art) ..................... Veronica Allam .................. 11 Mi primer viaje .......................... Rosenda Rodriguez............. 12 When Does the Planter Come Out to Play? .................. Andrew Derry .................... 13 Oregon Retreat (Art) ................... Michelle Kaytaz ................. 13 Kids Meal................................. Taylor Larson ................1421 The Last Jam Session (Art)............ Ryan Harvey ...................... 21 Fish (Art) ................................... Zahra Tabaei ..................... 22 Second Life ............................... Katie Gardner .................... 23 Streetlight Monet ........................ Adrian Gandara ................ 24 Reflection .................................. Melissa Head .................... 25 Untitled (Art) .............................. Student Collaboration ......... 25 Watchman (Art) ......................... Sophia Ceballos................. 26 Into the Wild (Art) ...................... Ryan Harvey ...................... 27 Beat Poetry................................ Katie Gardner .................... 28 Alanis Morissette (Art)................. Celia Cortez ...................... 29 In the Rain ................................. Briana Bacon ..................... 30 Bound (Art)................................ Heather Braman ................. 30 Freedom ................................... Kimberly Robertson............. 31 M-A-R-Y (Art).............................. Mary Bole ......................... 31 Mi Nombre ............................... Alejandro Garza ................ 32 5:30 p.m. ................................. Shirley Dendrinos ............... 33 Post Secret (Art) ......................... Courtney Van ..................... 33 Quite Delighted ........................ Matt McDermott ................. 34 Away from the Crowd (Art) ......... Heather Braman ................. 34 Eternal Rain ............................... Shirley Dendrinos ............... 35 Self Portrait (Art) ........................ Jennifer Booker .................. 36 Little Red Bump .......................... Matt McDermott ................. 37 Lost in Thought (Art) .................... Perla Alvarez ..................... 37 What Do You Hear? ................... Daniel Moore .................... 38 Path to Oz ................................ Katie Gardner .................... 38 Narrative of a Boy (Art) .............. Abigail Hernandez ............. 38 Something ................................. George Edwards, PhD ........ 39 Northwest Lakeview Gallery ............................................4041 Koifish I (Art) ............................. Michelle Kaytaz ................. 42 Green Flamingo (Art) .................. Whitney Cook ................... 43 Los Recuerdos de mi Abuelita ...... Patricia Serrano ................. 44 Mi Creadora ............................. Antonia Petersen ................ 44 Reflections in a Mirror ................ Kimberly Robertson............. 45 Sunglasses (Art) ......................... Liana Kyrk ......................... 45 Pensamiento .............................. Debney Ochoa-Flores ......... 46 Self Portrait ............................... Katie Gardner .................... 47 Baringas Secret (Art) .................. Kerry Nelson ..................... 48 The Tortoise and the Myth (Art) .... C. Olubunmi Adejumo ........ 49 Gray ........................................ Maria Rodriguez ................ 50 Pollen (Art) ................................ Liana Kyrk ......................... 51 Destiny Calls... .......................... Nieves Reyes ..................... 52 Beauty in Imperfections (Art) ........ Jesus Ramirez .................... 52 No Champion Here.................... Lacie Ralls ......................... 53 Gas Mask (Art) .......................... Sarah Wilson..................... 53 Either/Or (Art) ........................... Don Schol ......................... 54 Angel of Mercy (Art)................... Don Schol ......................... 54 Fate (Art)................................... Don Schol ......................... 55 Time Will Tell (Art) ...................... Don Schol ......................... 55 Suicides .................................... Joshua Smith ...................... 56 Contemplation (Art) .................... Lily Rodriguez .................... 57 Self-Devastation ......................... Nieves Reyes ..................... 58 Extraction (Art) ........................... Don Schol ......................... 58 Reality ...................................... Nieves Reyes and Brittney Schmelter .........59 Bridge, Japanese Garden (Art) .... Samantha Sprankle ............ 59 American Eagle ......................... Adrian Cook, PhD .............. 60 Grand Canyon (Art) ................... Harry Stark ........................ 61 Ella Observa ............................. Linda Pea ........................ 62 Does a Cowboy Ever Cry? .......... Paul Sexton ....................... 63 Abuelo (Art) .............................. Mayra Olmos .................... 63 Suckage.................................... Leigh Schneidewent ............ 64 Facades .................................... Lily Rodriguez .................... 65 Uncle Sam (Art) ......................... Ryan Harvey ...................... 65 Rebirth ...................................... Casey Mitchell ................... 66 Timeless Lovers .......................... Bethany Sanderson ............. 67 Manufactured Beauty (Art) .......... Sarah Wilson..................... 67 Round ....................................... Joshua Smith ...................... 68 In Arms (Art) .............................. Amy Byers ......................... 68 My Little Brother is Officially Thirty-Two .................................... Adrian Cook, PhD ..........6970 Open Mic (Art) ............................Mayra Olmos ..................... 69 Portrait .......................................Daniel Braddock ................. 71 Ring of Flowers (Art).....................Sophia Ceballos.................. 71 Awake and in Form .....................Adrian Cook, PhD ............... 72 Night Sea ...................................Doria Williams .................... 73 Thomas Seawell Collection (Art) .............................................. 73 Becoming Nosferatu.....................Kevin Meine ..................7475 Eyes Like a Cat (Art) .....................Sophia Ceballos.................. 75 Heirloom.....................................Casey Mitchell .................... 76 Untitled (Art) ................................Chris Frankenfield ............... 76 Nuriel .........................................Casey Mitchell .................... 77 Fragmentation (Art) ......................Barbara Arabian ................. 77 Revolutions ..................................Terry D. Heflin ..................... 78 Inventory Reduction (Art)...............Lisa Boyd............................ 78 Disease.......................................Lily Rodriguez ..................... 79 Clay-Merz Skyline (Art).................Fred Spaulding ................... 79 Andrew J. Ortiz Collection (Art)..........................................8081 Contributors List .................................................................... 83 DVD Index ............................................................................ 84
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Fingertips
Rileigh Sanders
Fingertips reach in loves insistence, Repairing the mistake of yesterday, To fill the widest inch of distance. Outstretched toward Adam in persistence To atone the first sin that led him astray, Fingertips reach in loves insistence. Centuries later, with cross-bought forgiveness. An only Sons blood will pay To fill the widest inch of distance. Beloved creation in need of assistance Unaware that always, always Fingertips reach in loves insistence. Though met with fiercest resistance Nail-scarred hands grasping anyway To fill the widest inch of distance. We doubt, deny, ignore its existence, Though never a greater display: Fingertips reach in loves insistence To fill the widest inch of distance.
Marine Creek Reflections
Benny and the Jets Celia Cortez
Kimberly Robertson
Its amazingthis feeling trapped in my heart Resembles a sound I heard in the dark. A melody so sweet to touch, it fills voids and empty spots. It caresses my body with its light; mesmerizes my mind and sight. Leaves me wondering, never leaves me wanting. It impacts my life, then disappears. This feeling I cannot hold. It comes and goes. Creeping slowly, steadily now, Bursting out into my world, but now its gone. This is an amazing feeling, to be hold. Its music to my very soul. Inside the Frame 3
Music
Lacie Ralls
Ever since I was a child I have associated comfort with cigarettes. Their smell and their taste always intoxicating me. Watching everyone in my family puff away over the years has taught me one important lesson; dont ever pick it up. Unfortunately, I have become yet another slave to the tobacco industry, putting nails into my coffin one at a time and hacking my lungs up all the while. One would presume that someone who watched all their loved ones suffer atrociously, uncomfortable deaths due to their nasty little infatuation with tobacco would never even look at a pack of cigarettes, but, alas, I have become a product of that sad degenerative system, making my grandmother right once again. I am often curious why the smell of cigarettes is so alluring to me, and then I am reminded that it takes my mind to a completely different place, gives me time to think, and keeps my demons at bay. I always felt there was a connection between brilliance and smoking, giving more time to concentrate and to mellow out. Obviously, this is what the faceless men at the tobacco companies want me to believe
American Spirit
and avidly preach to others around me, but I cant help but think that maybe its the truth: is this all a well-planned ploy to kill off the intelligent people? Surely not. This love affair has to have something more to it. Unfortunately, some of the only heirlooms I have received from deceased family members are intricate ash trays that I pathetically use as an excuse to support my smoking habit. So, I often ponder if this means I will be forever more chained to a pack of cigarettes, therefore, chaining my children and my childrens children to the same ashy fate. I fear the impending doom I force upon myself will only get worse with time. With every inhale I am killing things that can never be replaced. Every season of the year I come up with the most intricate excuses to continue my idiotic mutilation of the only body I will ever possess. I have lost control, but can still control my own existence; a double-edged sword that keeps getting sharper and more defined with every puff. So many tactics around to help me quit. Not nearly enough replacements to keep me crawling back to the relationship that was doomed from the start.
Table for One Sarah Wilson
Inside the Frame
Sunny Days
Lilly Rodriguez
Days when the sun shines so brightly you just soak in the vitamin D are usually when memories are made; good memories. Moments of children giggling while playing at the park, running without a care in the world, couples strolling hand in hand as leaves of color dwindle to the ground; these moments were made on sunny days. That morning should have been no different. It shouldnt have been shrouded by a dark cloud of smoke and ash. But no one was prepared for the agony and the terror to come, arriving without notice, without warning, without any sign, and leaving a dark tangible feeling around to cloud the sunny day. Lucas, promise me that you wont leave me, Anna whispered as she laid her warm gentle body on Lucas, her green eyes standing out among her dark, long, gorgeous hair. Anna, Im here. Im not going anywhere ever. His lips spoke the words so softly and so sweetly as he sealed the promise with a kiss; his blue eyes lingered on Anna as she ruffled his soft curly brown hair. He cradled her in his arms knowing exactly what she needed when she had these feelings. As a fire fighter, his life was always in danger, and he loved his wife and daughter, Riley more than anything. He would never be able to forgive himself if he left them, even if it was out of his control. Anna had been a First grade teacher. Her passion to teach and to help became her career, but money
was short, so her father had offered her a job at his office as a secretary. This job meant she could still take care of their daughter and be a great wife, while bringing in more money. She had never been the kind of woman to give up on her dreams, so she continued to teach, but only to her daughter. Their lives together were wonderful; high school sweethearts. Her father had always approved of him and had seen him as a son. Lucas had promised always to look after Anna, and he took it as a privilege and an honor to be loved by her. This was all he needed for as long as he lived. Life was everything they wished for and hoped for, nothing could have made that next morning any easier. Lucas left the house early for the station, and, to him, Anna had looked so serene he had not wanted to wake her, so, he left a note: Ive left my heart here. Lucas, why didnt you wake me up? I love you. Call me when you can. Baby, you are my reason to stay alive, my reason for being. He kissed her lips gently as hed done for years. He took it for granted that morning and made it quick, then he dashed for the door. Anna awoke to the note and smiled, but then frowned for she had missed her kiss that she loved so much receiving every morning. She decided to call him before he got to the station, but it went straight to voicemail. Had he gotten there that quickly? She left a voicemail instead. Lucas, why didnt you wake me up? I love you. Call me when you can. Im staying home today. Riley doesnt feel well. I think she is coming down with a cold. It was 8:30 a.m., and earlier that morning, a series of events occurred that would devastate their
um m in gb ird II Be nj am in P. Va r el a
family as well as thousands of others. That morning, when the innocent planes left at 7 a.m. in the
Lucas, why didnt you wake me up? I love you. Call me when you can.
morning, a domino effect happened that led to the destruction of the World Trade Center, damage to the Pentagon, and devastation to an entire nation. Anna sipped her coffee as she turned on the television. It was 8:45 a.m., and she saw the Twin Towers were on fire. Shattering to the floor, her coffee fell as she remembered how she was supposed to be there at work, with her father. But her daughters runny nose had kept her at home. Standing in utter shock she jumped when she heard her cell phone ring. It was Lucas. The reality of it all was setting in like weights unable to bare, unable to move, and unable to react. Her husband, Lucas, was a fire fighter; he was on his way to the World Trade Center, the World Trade Center that was not only on fire, but also where her father was. Reaching desperately for her cell phone, she pounded her fathers number, but there was no dial tone. The phone lines must have been trying to handle the thousands of outgoing calls, Frantically, she dialed over and over and over again, but nothing. Tears streamed down her face. She turned her attention again to the television. The news station reported that all of Manhattans Fire Stations had been requested at the scene immediately. Society was shocked. No one ever thought that the danger other countries faced against terrorism would come to New York. Everything was now shut down except news stations. Everyone who had a radio or a television was watching and listening to the danger. At 9:45 a.m., another plane hit the Pentagon. Minutes later the south tower of the World Trade Center fell into ruins. At 10:20 a.m. the world
saw that citizens were not afraid to act against their dangers and environment; a third lane said to be headed toward the white house crashed southeast of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The people on board of Flight 93, even though they were not soldiers of the military, they were soldiers of this nation. An hour later Anna opened the door to a who told her, and her was telling her neighbors, to evacuate their homes in Manhattan south of the Canal Street. As she gathered belongings, packed a small bag for herself and Riley, she stayed well informed She remembered Lucas was in the middle of this chaos, living it first hand. Anna felt helpless, for she could not do anything now except pray and hope to God that he would keep him safe. At 1:45 p.m. the US took action, and the Pentagon announced that warships and aircraft would take up positions in the rest of the state and in Washington D.C. Later, she heard that Lucas was safe. But still she continued to pray for her father. After a few days, Lucas discovered that his father-in-law was one of the hundreds missing and presumed dead. His remains lay within the ashes of the building. Five years after the tragic incident, the horrors and the emptiness still linger around Anna and her family. The void in Manhattan is in many of their hearts. Anna, continues to dial her fathers number hoping he will pick up and say, Sorry I havent answered, Honey. Ive been busy. I hate to have kept you wondering. Ill come over Sunday for dinner. But she knows she will never hear his voice again or hear his laughter as Riley tells him her stories. But still she leaves messages, words unsaid that linger in every being of her soul. She feels them like she feels Lucas next to her holding her when she falls apart after there is no answer: I love you, Dad.
Inside the Frame
Moscas Abigail M. Hernandez
Am I Forgotten?
Am I forgotten? I walk by you but you see nothing I scream but you hear nothing. Have I fallen so far? Is this my fate? To fall in an abyss, Waiting, unheard, forgotten? Why cant you see, Im not insignificant, I will be heard. I will murmur And you will hear. There is a day, waiting, My name will be spoken, Only a whisper, But so much, oh so much, Will be said in that whisper. I will be remembered.
Briana Bacon
Who isReyes She? Nieves
Self Portrait III (Some Loose Screws) Sophia Ceballos
What is this monster I see before me? This grotesque, ill-favored girl of some sort. Shocking black bumble-bee eyes I agree; Insane but maintained, how will this resort? I place one finger on her reflection. Triggering ripples, she fades before me. One second shes gone. Will she let me be? There! She comes back. I sense somethings changed. Darkness devours my mind and my body; Down to my bones I feel her awaken Trapped in a corner, not there physically. I shove her away, no need to regret. My hands on her face; theres no need to fret.
Inside the Frame
Visions of the Future

Candace Turner
Sun, heat, nails of searing pain on my back, Overcome, hot, dry air, hard to breathe in. Calming, cool, breezes come in the midnight black. Rest and wait for the next day to begin. My family, my first priority, The children, forever my main concern. Cook and clean, consumes the majority, My role and job, never mine to discern. This feeling, longing, I cannot restrain. More than a wife, more than a mother, maid, My destiny, to find what I contain, More than the heat, more than the desert, paid, Leave my world for this journey I must take. Regret? I pray tis not a mistake.
Hope and Perserverance Lisa Boyd
Bethany Sanderson
Softly she breathes in The cool crisp breezes that turn Her face toward the sky.
Haiku
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Hollow eyes stare out from inside a mirror. They focus...recognizing this familiar stranger. (Aware) Fingers caress her mind, eyes become dimmer. With a jerk of strings, he becomes her master. (Ensnare) A flick of the wrist moves one foot in front of the other. With each forced motion, her conscience begins to wither. (Impair) He commands her emotions, her will, her figure. He, the controller; she, merely the player. (Unfair)
Marionette
Brittney Schmelter
As he torments his puppet, she is surrounded by his laughter. Out of her stitched mouth escapes a quiet whimper. (Despair) Satisfied, the Puppeteer leaves the room full of pleasure. Tangled strings, tossed to the floor with a clatter. (Repair) Trying to unknot the strings, trembling in terror. Rising carefully, she sees her savior. (Prayer) Stretching and straining, reaching the dagger, Silently slicing the strings, escaping her captor. (Dare) Her freedom won, she tosses out the past, tries to forget. But still she hears the echo of his quiet voice saying: Where are you, my little Marionette? (Beware)
Lion and Lady Veronica Allam
Inside the Frame
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Mi primer viaje
Cuando tena 7 aos nos mudamos para Texas. Fue un viaje inolvidable, porque nunca haba viajado dieciocho horas consecutivas, tampoco haba viajado a otro lugar que no fuera Durango o Zacatecas. bamos todos, mi ta Ana, su esposo, mi primo Carlos, mi prima Andrea, mi hermano Daniel, mis paps y yo. ramos ocho personas en una van en un agosto caluroso. Dentro de la van haba mucho equipaje en la parte trasera, y en los asientos de atrs bamos mis primos y yo; en el de en medio mi mam y mi ta; y los de enfrente mi pap y el esposo de mi ta. Cuando bamos saliendo del pueblo me sent feliz pensando que iba a estar en un lugar diferente, pero cuando ya bamos saliendo a medio camino me quera regresar. Hacia tanto calor que al mirar la ventana senta que mis ojos se derretan; adems no falta el temor que se parara la van en medio del desierto. Mi piel se senta pegajosa, y los lloriqueos de Daniel que apenas tena un ao parecan nunca acabar. Lo peor de todo es que apenas cabamos en el asiento y mis primos y yo nos pegbamos
Rosenda Rodriguez
con los codos y nos pellizcbamos para obtener el pedazo de asiento ms grande. Cuando llegamos a la frontera era de noche pero las luces alumbraban todo; haba muchos carros con equipaje igual que la van donde yo iba. Estuvimos en la fila detrs de muchos carros y camionetas, haba mucha gente caminando en las banquetas del puente. Haba mucha gente, como nios vendiendo chicles, seores con uniforme, mujeres que en aquel entonces yo crea que se vestan muy destapadas, en fin todo tipo de gente caminaba por el puente. Despus de dos largas horas por fin pasamos el puente y seguimos rumbo a Fort Worth, duramos como seis horas para llegar a Fort Worth las que no recuerdo muy bien tal vez porque estaba dormida. Ya han pasado 13 aos desde mi primer viaje y todava recuerdo cada detalle de aquel da que me marc para siempre y algunas veces no s donde pertenezco en el lugar que nac o el lugar que crec.
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Oregon Retreat Michelle Kaytaz
When Does the Planter Come Out to Play? Andrew Derry

When does the planter come out to play? When all the tools have run away. No longer can he hear their song; he mounts his stead and rides along, calling his men he flies away, No time to stop, no time to stay. First, he searches for his plow; he finds it in the underground. Second, he reads into the trees, finding his hoe under their knees, but he is stumped to find his hands,
No Name Hope and Perserverance
scouring the rocks, searching the sands. Through farms and barns, nights and days, he cannot find his precious prey. His hands have flown north, you see, for they are gone, for they are free.
Inside the Frame
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Kids Meal
An Absurdist Comedy In One Act by Taylor Larson
CAST OF CHARACTERS Say and Lavie, 60s, EMTs Allen, 45, a nurse Felicity, early 30s, a pediatric surgeon The action throughout takes place in the rear entrance to Evermen Pass Hospital.
Act I Scene I
TIME: The present. Noon on an overcast Friday.
SCENE: The back entrance to a large building. Its splotched windows resemble stained glass, and below, two black sliding doors dominate the surrounding pavement. To the right, an ambulance somberly waits. Though only its painted, front side appears visible, the ambulance is clearly a flat, cutout on wheels. To the left, a single patch of grass harbors a bright sycamore tree, whose branches jubilantly rise. It is also flat. Only the hospital looks like it has depth. A hanging signlike a church signboardsays, Evermen Pass. AT RISE: The doors slide open. ENTER two men in EMT clothes, rolling a gurney toward the ambulance. The tag on the one pushing from the rear reads, SAY. The second in front looks forward while pulling; his uniform says, LAVIE. Neither face offers any emotion. A stout, middle-aged man in a pink nurses outfit follows. ALLEN has short, uncombed hair and heavy eyes above a stubbly chin. He hides his right hand behind his back. ALLEN The whole thing was completely uncalled for! It didnt make any sense. I did my job, I acted kindly, and I got punished for it! Why would marshmallows cause such a problem? (The EMTs ignore ALLEN as they load the gurney onto the ambulance, which consists of them rolling the gurney behind the cutout and making lifting motions.) ALLEN I guess I should expect it. (He holds out his heavily-bandaged right thumb in front of his face. The wrapping makes his finger close to the size of a baseball.) Just childs play. (He takes out a lighter with his left hand and holds a cigarette between his injured thumb and right index finger. He watches the EMTs while speaking.) But its only noon. My first week isnt up yet. If I can get a transfer approved before the end of the day, they wont get me anymore. Ill (Striking the lighter under his thumb.) ahhhhh!!! (He drops the lighter and cigarette.) (The EMTs finish loading the gurney at this point. They walk to the front side of the ambulance as ALLEN picks up his lighter.) ALLEN No respect anywhere, anymore! Ive been doing rounds here for over 20 years, and Eggel and the board decide just to switch me willy-nilly? I shouldnt have to deal with this. (Waving his injured finger, causing a piece of bandage to flail.) I graduated from Brown! (The EMTs look on without responding.)
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I guess you fogies think I deserve this, huh? The center holds naught. Justice has left this world. All things fall apart. Man deserves nothing. Dont desire more. (ALLEN silently stares at them.)
ALLEN ALLEN LAVIE SAY LAVIE
ALLEN Have you two been drinking again? (The EMTs look away. Suddenly, A SIREN BEEPS INSIDE THE AMBULANCE. The two walk around to its backside. They roll the gurney offstage, EXIT SL, with the ambulance cutout in front of it.) ALLEN (Laughing) You cant drive an ambulance drunk. (He continues laughing after they leave the stage, then takes another cigarette out with his injured thumb. He is about to light it when he notices the lighter is under his bad thumb like before. No longer laughing, he switches the cigarette and lighter from hand to hand. He tries to start the lighter with his bandaged thumb. His frustration grows as he repeatedly strikes it.) (The doors slide open. Out walks a young woman in a white surgeons scrub. ENTER FELICITY. Her tall, slim body and long hair sway with juvenile whimsy.) FELICITY (Laughing intermittingly as she slowly wanders toward the sycamore) YesI said yesI will yes. (She leans against the tree, facing Allen, and continues laughing.) (ALLENstill attempting to light his cigarette, which now dangles stuck to the unwrapped part of his bandageturns and faces FELICITY.) (Grinning.) ALLEN
Hehe, long shift.
(Motioning with his thumb and lighter). Been here since Shhh! Its not polite to interrupt a conversation. FELICITY
ALLEN (He looks around in a confused manner, then smirks.) Hard day too, huh? FELICITY No, I just like to tell a funny story to myself before I share it with anyone else. So you can tell it better? ALLEN
Inside the Frame
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So I can make myself laugh.
FELICITY
ALLEN Working at this place, I guess you need to make yourself laugh. FELICITY Laughters a little thing to enjoy each day. I indulge in it on my breaks. (Pointing to the cigarette on the ground) The hospital doesnt permit smoking here. ALLEN Ive been here since five, and today is my seventh early shift in a row. If someone wants to tell me I cant smoke on my break, well then, screw him! (His cigarette flutters from his loose bandage.) (FELICITY laughs.) Whats so funny? People. ALLEN FELICITY
ALLEN You must know some strange people thenor normal people. FELICITY (Grinning) I met with the family of a six year-old boy for a pre-op todaytonsil removal. He sat with his feet crossed on the examining table and kept rubbing his fingers. His tiny face was crunched up and his nose soaked with snot. You know what was worrying him, though? Not the operation, but what would happen to his tonsil. He asked me, Will it have a good home? Of course, I told him, We have a nice place where we send all the tonsils we take out of good little boys. He started crying and said, But Im not a good boy. (Laughing) Arent children cute? ALLEN No. FELICITY You must not spend much time with kids. ALLEN Ive gotten my fill this week. FECLICITY Why do you say that? ALLEN Because of this! (He motions with his bandaged thumb, from which his cigarette is hanging) Because kids give you cigarettes? FELICITY
ALLEN (He throws the cigarette to the ground.) Early this morning, a girl came into the ER from a car accident. Her brother and mother sat in the waiting room for hours. The mother kept following the doctors around, asking for updatesunderstandably sobut the boy was mainly left to deal with the whole incident on his own. The little guy was clearly having a rough time. I could see him shaking with worry, so I went over to him and said, How about some hot chocolate? He stopped shivering. With marshmallows, he growled. I got cocoa from the vending machine, but the damn thing was out of marshmallow cream. I dug my thumb up in the dispenser, trying to get it to pour, but I only managed to cover
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my finger in goop. When I gave the kid the cup, he said, With marshmallows! I told him the machine was out. He yelled, With marshmallows! again. Theyre all gone, little man.With marshmallows! This was the seventh morning in a row I had to be at the hospital by five, and I didnt have enough energy to be patient, so I said, Look! Were out! I made the mistake of waving my hand, and the kid saw the cream on my thumb. The little bastard bit me! FELICITY (Smirking) Should have brought marshmallows. (The two EMTs ENTER from SL, pulling the ambulance. After bringing it to a stop, they roll the gurney forward with a long, lumpy, black bag on top.) SAY Cyclist locked bike to wired fence with metal lock. LAVIE The parking was charged. SAY Electrocuted. LAVIE D.O.A today. (They roll the gurney through the sliding doors.) ALLEN (Looking at the gurney) God this place does weird things to people. FELICITY The fish for the pediatric wing should arrive today. ALLEN Why does the aquarium need more fish? FELICITY (Ignoring his question) If youre in my unit, how come Ive never met you? They only switched me in recently. (Licking her lips) If you dont like kids, why did you transfer? ALLEN FELICITY
ALLEN (Speaking in a raised voice) Not my choice! Eggel and the board assigned me there when Nurse Bliss retired because of her health. Hopefully shell get over her depression. FELICITY
ALLEN Yeah, well sadly, Im in pedis because of herand probably will be permanently. Why? FELICITY
ALLEN Its Friday. I started my rounds in the wing on Saturday. If they keep you in a unit for a week and dont switch you out, you better get comfortable there. FELICITY Oh, Im familiar with that routine. Im close with Dr. Eggel and see it all the time.
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How close?
(Looking at her intently)
ALLEN
FELICITY (Smirking) Close enough to know he and his wife are having problems. Then maybe youre close enough to help me. (Cleaning her nails) ALLEN FELICITY
How so?
ALLEN I cant get a meeting with the man, but you could ask him to transfer me to another wing. Now why would I do that? FELICITY
ALLEN Im terrible there! Tell him how unfit I am to work with children. Youve lasted a week. FELICITY
ALLEN (He gestures with his bandaged thumb.) Yeah, and the kids have really loved me. (FELICITY laughs loudly. THE SIREN IN THE AMBULANCE STARTS BEEPING IN MATCHING RYHTHM. The two EMTs ENTER from the sliding doors and roll the ambulance offstage, like before. Felicitys laughter continues until they EXIT.) ALLEN (Offended) On Monday, a girl arrived with her finger stuck in a dolls mouth. I had to cut part of the toys mouth off, and the brat kicked my shins for hurting Ms. Sarah Penelope. (Giggling) Not nice to treat a lady like that. FELICITY
ALLEN Tom had to run to the gift store and buy a new one to shut her up. (He pauses, hoping FELICITY will stop smiling.) On Tuesday, a boy came in with a jawbreaker wedged between his back teethhe couldnt even close his mouth. I pulled it out with forceps, but he was wiggling so much that when I finally yanked the damn thing out, I fell back and it went down my throat! Dick needed to give me the Heimlich. Then your abs got a workout. FELICITY
ALLEN The next day, I had a kid who refused to eat her food because it wasnt kosher. I tried to show some patience, so I asked her, Well, what can I pick up for you? Bread and fish, she said
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The fish better show up today.
FELICITY
ALLEN so I brought her a catfish sandwich. After eating the whole thing, she realized what fish it was. Apparently catfish isnt kosher either. She started crying and told me, I made Yahweh mad at her. Harry had to call his rabbi to come over and calm her. You turned her to her faith. FELICITY
ALLEN Thursday, I gave praline ice cream to a kid who had his tonsils removed. He was allergic to nuts. Joe had to give him ipecac, and he threw up all over me! I bet his throat felt better. FELICITY
ALLEN (His face reddens. He angrily wags his bandaged finger, causing the wrapping to further become undone and wave in the air.) Just for the hell of it, today I told a kid the Easter Bunny isnt real! FELICITY (Chuckling) Well, Ill never ask you to get me food, but I dont see any cause to recommend a transfer. None of that bothers you? ALLEN
FELICITY I think theyre reasons for you to stay. (ALLEN pauses with confusion.) FELICITY Every person working here is going to make mistakes, no matter what ward theyre in. The trick is to put people in positions where their screw-ups can be managed. The rest of the pediatric staff has been able to handle your slipsno patient has suffered because of thembut if I advise Dr. Eggel move you, who knows if the unit will be able to deal with the next guys blunders. (ALLEN, stunned, widens his eyes.) Why change what isnt failing? What about the Easter Bunny thing? FELICITY ALLEN
FELICITY (Shrugging) Kids should know the truth. (The ambulance rolls back onto stage. The same operation is repeated as before, with the EMTs taking a gurney in with a long-black bag on it. Allen and Felicity pause to watch.) SAY Man in air balloon flies high, seeking better view. LAVIE His day deflated. SAY He fell back down.
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D.O.A. bound.
LAVIE
(ALLEN and FELICITY look back at each other as soon as the EMTs enter the building.) ALLEN All right, say I could manage in my current position, wouldnt my skills still be better utilized in a different unit, one where other staff dont have to protect me from the patients wrath? Does geriatrics have a spot? That was my concentration at Brown. FELICITY They dont like young people. ALLEN The burn unit must need someone? FELICITY Theyll smell smoke on you and get scared. ALLEN Does proctology have an opening? FELICITY You wouldnt like ita lot of B.S. ALLEN The morgue? FELICITY Too crowded. (THE AMBULANCE SIREN BEEPS and the EMTs come out. SAY and LAVIE EXIT SL with the ambulance and gurney again.) FELICITY (Watching the ambulance) I do hope the fish come today. (Turning back to Allen) Im not so sure Dr. Eggel would care about a recommendation from me, anyways. ALLEN I thought you said you were close to him, that he and his wife were having problems. (He makes quotation marks with his fingers, causing his bandage to wave.) FELICITY My husband and I play tennis with them on Saturdays. His wife has an atrocious backhand. ALLEN (Covering his face with his right hand and its long, unraveled bandage.) Im going to be in pediatrics for the rest of my career. (He sits on the curb and starts crying in his hands.) Im never going to leave. Children day in and day out, thats my lifebrats and throw up and snotty noses. (He sobs heavily. After a few moments, he rips off the dangling part of his bandage and uses it to blow his nose.) FELICITY (Walking across the lot to him.) (ALLEN blows his nose again.)
Youll be fine.
FELICITY (Leaning over him.) What you have to do is find something about your job that makes you happy, something in your work you enjoy. Otherwise, youre in for an eternity of suffering. (A PAGER INSIDER HER JACKET BEEPS. She laughs as she reads it.)
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A four-year old just swallowed a tongue depressor. I have to go, but think about what I said. (She tries to shake his hand, but his head is still down and he doesnt see. She shrugs, then skips to the doors. EXIT.) (ALLEN wipes his eyes and rests his head on his right thumb. A SIREN SOUNDS. He moves to his feet just in time to avoid the rolling ambulance. The EMTs ENTER, and repeat the procedure with the gurney as before, but this time the black bag on top lies open and filled with fried tenders.) Delivery now, The children will enjoy them. Food makes all better. All kids like fried flakes. SAY
LAVIE SAY
LAVIE Those who eat, awake. (As they roll by, ALLEN grabs a tender out of the bag. After the two enter the building, he smiles at the fried fish. Then he laughs.) I like fish. ALLEN (THE LIGHTS BLACK OUT. A CRUNCHING SOUND IS HEARD.)
FINAL CURTAIN
The Last Jam Session Ryan Harvey
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Fish Zahra Tabaei
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Second Life
Katie Gardner
Everyone has an alter ego. Ironically, this mask transcends outward. This alter-self Indefinitely surpasses true self. Everyone has secrets. Little whispers slowly rotting Beneath the surface. Once one is shoveled out, More decay is unveiled. When is enough, enough? Suddenly a realizationThis poison, undoubtedly fully absorbed, cannot be entirely Excavated. How has this self Loathing ghost become a brick wall? When will this fabricated Fortress be demolished? Deepest darkest secrets. Loose lips sink ships, But few are destined to sail.
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Streetlight Monet adrian gandara

This town is a palette These night streets are canvas Splattered with neon red and green reflections Of streetlight impressions the rain painted On rainy nights. The asphalt goes red for stop Those headlights melt on their way Inside my car, the soft voice jokes Of Garrison Keillor on A Prairie Home Companion Inside quiet NPR airwaves. On the radio dial, 90.1. Inside my car, hearing city lights Drip Softly on the windshield. The sound of city lights Splash As cymbals smashing in potholes Under car tires. These nights streets are like the little kindergarten faucet We left running For cleaning off those little brushes For fingerpainting rainbows Both colored and hazy in my mind. I will be crashing, hypnotized, when the lights go green No These thoughts just wishful thinking, But I still drift with the sheen And I think Ill drive forever When the gritty asphalt says Green. Drive.
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Reflection Melissa Head

Before me is an enormous puzzle, With so much to see. Many pieces scattered about. I flip them, turn them, Review each piece carefully. Where do they go? How do I fit? Each day sheds light on a new piece. I see vibrant multitudes of color, The intricate shapes, The quirkiness of each. How could they possibly fit? I try to force them to connect, Yet, in places, they dont belong. After many failed attempts The perfect spot is visible. Crystal clear hindsight. Of course it only fits there, But Ive taken in so many lessons. Each turn of the puzzle piece I am stronger, smarter. The puzzle comes together, Both at a snails pace And at lightning speed. I cant control the timing, I want to slow down, Or to start again. I wont make the same mistakes.
Untitled Student Collaboration/Chris Cunningham Faculty
I keep moving, Keep tackling the rest of the puzzle. Its starting to make sense. I dont regret yesterdays choices. I make my future, I make my happiness, I make my puzzle.
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Watchman Sophia Ceballos
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Into the Wild Ryan Harvey
Inside the Frame
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Beat Poetry
Katie Gardner
The story of a woman Makes me upset. Internal, external, I cant explain it. Something so obvious And expressed Should cause me pain. Hurt I am, Afraid I am, Lost I am. To run away! To hide, To stand tall, To stand high. Let go! Get out! Age nine, Lost innocence. No where to run, No where to hide, Good bye A man of thirty, A Life sentence, An Innocent life taken. Thank GOD for justice. Young mother, Age eighteen, Never saw Dream, Goal, Future, Come true. Who said I cant? Who gave the man the right to speak? Doesnt the woman have a voice? Cant I speak for myself? I can! I will! Breathe in, Breathe out, Give in, Give out.
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Alanis Morissette Celia Cortez
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You left me on the curb Smiled and said youd return But you never came back. I watched your car leave In the pouring rain. I wanted to help you but you Said youd go it alone. All the good times You said youd never leave But it was a lie. Im still waiting on that curb Hoping one day to hear you say, Its done, youre here to stay. You ran to her seeking warmth and refuge But you left behind all those Who truly cared. You claimed misery Said you stayed only for me But wheres your responsibility Your family? All the good times You said youd never leave But it was a lie. Im still waiting on that curb Hoping one day to hear you say Its done, youre here to stay. I dont know If youll come back or If youre gone for good But Ill be here On this curb Watching, waiting For your return.
In the Rain
Briana Bacon
Bound Heather Braman
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M-A-R-Y (Self Portrait) Mary Bole
Freedom Kimberly Robertson

My friend is feared by all but me. He comforts me in life and gives me hope. I always welcome his visits, for he fills my endless noise with silence. Silent thoughts, with silent dreams. No more hopes, no more screams. I cannot wait to meet him, To be embraced and to walk in light. I know hell kiss me gently, Take my pain away in flight. Ill never be afraid; Fear no longer dwells here. I look for him each night I sit and wait. He never comes, only morning light. Another day, another night, Yet still my friend is not in sight. I know one day hell come; It comforts me in understnding. Yet, still I sit and worry where my friend could be. Until at long last hes sitting right beside me.
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Mi Nombre
Nunca me haba puesto a pensar acerca de mi nombre, pero cuando me mud a los Estados Unidos me di cuenta que mi nombre era verdaderamente en espaol. Algunas personas lo pronuncian Aligiandro, otras, Alexandro, otras, Alessandre, otras, Aleandro, en fin, he escuchado mi nombre de todos colores y de todos sabores. Mi hermana fue la que me puso Alejandro. Ella siempre fue mala conmigo; me quebr la nariz, me haca que le cambiara a la televisin cuando no tenamos control remoto, me haca trapear el piso, me gritaba cuando no le iba bien, me mandaba a comprar cosas a la tienda, me haca que le lavara su carro y puedo seguir con un nmero incansable de abusos.
Alejandro Garza
Cuenta mi familia que mi mam estaba enferma y no poda ir al registro con mi pap, as que fue mi hermana. Mi pap quera ponerme Alfredo, pero ese nombre no me gusta. A m me gusta mi nombre, Alejandro. Hay muchas personas que me dicen que les gusta mi nombre y cuando oigo eso reitero lo mucho que me gusta. A mi abuela no le gustaba su nombre, ella se llamaba Paula Juana, pero ella menta y deca que se llamaba Paola. Yo nunca tendr que hacer eso porque estoy seguro que soy y seguir siendo Alejandro. Por consiguiente, a mi hermana le perdono todo lo que me ha hecho simplemente porque ella me puso Alejandro.
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Post Secret Courtney Van
5:30 p.m.
Shirley Dendrinos
Excitement! Motor running, rushing, time running.12:30 p.m., hospital registrar. Room, bed, husband, mother, friends. Pastor, medicine, pain, laughing, medicine, pain. 1:30 p.m., waiting, expectations, talking, laughing, more medicine, pain, desperate, 2:30 p.m., numbness, quiet, smiling, laughing, 4:30 p.m., doctor, empty room. 5:30 p.m., quite, crying, sad, prayer, pastor, funeral, burial, bye, see you soon.
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Away from the Crowd Heather Braman
Quite Delighted
Matt McDermott
Oh, you devilish delight Oh, highly attained eyes of lure Who fills the empty hole of my pity? Resound my temptuous howl- sooth itLet me morph into you. Despair these sufferable indignities. Improper is the way of love. Blame not my heart for refusing it To prove there is more than one good in man. Flatter this arousal, powder it. I shall toss within, restless, With no attentive regard We do not bear this weightless sorrow. Search, yet identify with no such resolve, When absence is most cruel. Bad tidings to bid us appropriations Looking for something comfortably situated. Tis very well, indeed, very well When this whole world becomes a portrait, Dashing fancy quit unexpected.
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Eternal Rain
I carry a childhood memory. Someone I dont know who once told me that rain is Gods tears, storms His grief. I believed them then as I do now. I notice that God has been crying a lot this year and I cant say that I blame Him. His creation is filled with cruel corruption, ingracious greed perpetuated by His greatest creations, stoked by self-pious people and the slaughter of innocence. The sea is slick with money-hungry mayhem, the necromantic needle and the damage done. Burning flesh sickens His senses as it has since the burning times, since before; sending the Almighty into fits of rage even He can no longer deny Himself. And for what? Id say God only knows, but Im not sure He does.
Shirley Dendrinos
A Creator confounded by denizens of destruction designed to be His friends. My God, why have we forsaken Thee in Thy very name? Ridiculous. Reckless and unremorseful. It may rain forever. And all these tears cannot wash clean the human being. I was told once that rain was Gods tears and storms His grief. Look into the Eye and answer if you can.
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Self Portrait Jennifer Booker
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Little Red Bump

Matt McDermott
Nay, it ever be rude, this romantic interlude I am stricken to the dickens Of this heart that has me sickened, For Ive been bitten by a smitten The bug of love. So this flu, I will not subdue As much as I might, No use to fight. I cant fight this infectious bite. Its itch has become a twitch, Shrieking thrills n fluttering trills, A whirl n a twirl, a boy n a girl That little jingleI pray to intermingle, Oh, so smug, must be that love bug
Lost in Thought (Self Portrait) Perla Alvarez
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What Do You Hear?

Strange sounds emanate from a grand room, adventuring four corners. Seeking; Selecting; Seducing. Increasing darkness, decreasing response. At the epicenter, thunder and lightning; the sound of glory calling home the saints. The dance floor is calling your name.
Daniel Moore
Katie Gardner
Path to Oz
Reality provokes endless questions. Midnights consumed by deliberation. What constitutes the real? Tangibility? A sensory response? Which goat among us drives to oppress said inference? Mind the fine line between reality And illusion, brother. Perpetual decent deeper into darkness. What now? Stray to seek truth, Bound to absorb a life time, Some have wandered in the dark for far too long.
Narrative of a Boy Abigail Hernandez
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Something
George Edwards, Ph.D.
While the house yet held captive its tiny portion of the night, J watched as his mother arose to light the fire in the Franklin stove. Soon the heat would course through the blued pipes that angled their way to the iron ring in the ceiling. Drawn perhaps by what he would later claim to have seen there -- a strange quality of light that seemed at once to attract and repulse the edges of the window shade, she went first to the shade and lifted it. Invisible in the exploding light, she had cried out, Look, everybody, it snowed! So began his first snow. After the snowmen, after the snow cones without cones but with real snow, after the snowball fights including the awkward one that ensued when Deacon Morton, on the way to feed his cows, lobbed a snowball into the yard; there came at last an aimless part of the long white day. The Only in the afternoon did he find time enough to look beyond the yard, to wander to the bridge and take a look up the road. There! What was it there in the arctic reaches of the so unfamiliar road that stirred in his breast such an ache, such a yearning for something in a distance longer, far, far longer, than the distance to the end of the road? tracks that the people made, the tracks that King and Fido made, the yellow stains that spread when they hiked their legs; and against the deep blue sky, the snow thick on the roof like the icing on the house found by hapless Hansel and Gretel, stacked high even on the backs of twigs as if all through the night, they had been playing jacks with the snowflakes, and winning -- all these had their allotted time.
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Inside Northwest Lakeview Gallery
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Koifish I Michelle Kaytaz
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Green Flamingo Whitney Cook
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Los Recuerdos de mi Abuelita

Los recuerdos que no se olvidan de mi abuelita Los abrazos cariosos Los juegos de fantasa Jugando piratas y buscando tesoros Sube pronto al barco loco Pescando tiburones Le ayudo a hacer galletitas de azcar y canela Las tortillas calientitas y frijoles El chocolate abuelita que rico es Descansando en la hamaca Mirando las estrellas Contando leyendas misteriosas Das y das pasan sin mi abuelita Sin el olor de comida que acostumbraba Las gallinas tristecitas Carrucando y buscando Los becerritos en el cerco esperando
Patricia Serrano
Mi Creadora
Antonia Petersen
You una vez conoca una seora que alegraba el del sol. Su espritu era joven, puro y lleno de vida. Yo era su pajarito que un dia aprendi a volar. Habia un destello en sus ojos como las estrellas en el cielo. Todo mi mundo slo exista por su felicidad en la que ella persever. Yo una vez conoci a una seora que hizo reir a todo el mundo. Ya no es joven, su espiritu se volvi rancio y negro. Su imperio se durrumb ante sus ojos y el suelo en que caminaba se deterioraba desde las entraas. Ha muerto por la causa de la perdida de la risa, su alma vag sola. Y al final ello vivi como la seora que yo conocia y era mi mam.
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Reflections in a Mirror
Kimberly Robertson
What do you see when you look at me? A Mother! Someone to take care of your child, To wash your clothes, To tend to your needs. What do you see when you look at me? A wife! Someone to love you unconditionally, To support your dreams. What do you see when you look at me. A friend! Someone to share your special moments, To guard your secrets.
Sunglasses (Self Portrait) Liana Kyrk
What do you see when you look at me? A Student! Someone to teach, Always willing to learn your way. What do you see when you look at me? A daughter, a son, a child whos now grown, Who cannot return. What do you see when you look at me? A foreigner! Someone you can hate, Fear, and abuse. Really, I want to know. What do you see when you look at me? Or do you simply look away
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Pensamiento
Mi corazn est latiendo con frustracin Mi mente divaga T eres el que est enojado, yo no Te Amo No puedo vivir sin ti Me he vuelto tan loca para alejar al que amo o nos enamoramos de nuevo otro da? Otra vida tal vez? Uno en el mundo que nos rodea no importa Cuando estamos juntos nunca importa
Debney Ochoa-Flores
Soy una adicta a la sensacin, al deseo, muero por eso
El aire fluye libremente mientras tu sonrisa ilumina mi cielo Mis sentimientos por ti sin control permanecen en mi interior Tu corazn late como el mo? Mantenerme aislada hace que llegue amor Celestial asombroso amor La vista ms hermosa El sabor ms divino Puede el amor tener ese rostro? El rostro de un ngel enviado a m Tus labios ms suaves que las nubes Puedo saborear la tentacin Yo estoy aqu y t ests all La distancia entre nosotros es la razn porque no puedo detenerte cada noche Ser nuestro amor ms fuerte que cualquier cosa que enfrentemos? La esperanza est de mi lado Cundo vamos a estar juntos para siempre? En este mundo que compartimos ahora o en otro tal vez? Dos cuerpos, una sola alma Eres mo Abrazndote en mis brazos Qudate conmigo para siempre y piensa sobre esto otro da
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Self Portrait
Ohshit. an absence, a lacking, and I know how this has begun. I am supposed to want this, I think. But the Fear is an anvil, always a shock to the one standing below oblivious to the hit. There must be a woman in here somewhere? Not always the girl with skinned knees and shoes that dont quite fit, But in this absence are years, decades, all in the heartbeat that isnt. I am seventeen Prom Night. under my grown up dress a nervous quiver, the same skinned knees, but in this landscape my date is you. I am eight merry go round carousel horses. My playmate is you. I expect sand to be thrown in my face, but instead you are my ally, the antithesis to the anvil. I am three the coveted doll
Katie Gardner
The now is the same heartbeat as the years. Is this this life my life? Am I this woman or that girl? Maybe I am somewhere in between three or
eight or under the Christmas tree; seventeen the M&M chocolate or somewhere coming soon. candies in my stocking, you are Santa. I am two Saturday morning Bugs Bunny, Yosemite Sam, the unexpected anvil, you. I am now under the anvil: oblivious, shocked, troubled. and I am once again two or three on a Saturday morning, And I am now and I am this woman that girl and I am you and I am Trouble. Coming Soon! To A Crisis Near You! I think, and I laugh,
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Baringas Secret Kerry Nelson
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The Tortoise and the Myth Christopher Olubunmi Adejumo
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Maria Rodriguez
I want to write an endless story of love. me. I think back on the small insignificant memories we shared and realize the
Gray
I want to be able to describe every emotion felt through my body when you touched importance of them is carried within my heart. If such memories were erasable, then my mind wouldnt still drift away. I think of you, and I smile. I am glad you happened; Im beyond content. I close my eyes and wander into the past where your laughter was what guide me home. I think of you, and all I can really do is laugh away my smiles. I remember the good, because that was all that was created in our world; the good of two souls trying to find their way in life, trying to unite and become one. I know now that what we had was unique and indescribable. The way our eyes looked into one another. You and I told a wonderful story, and I am glad we told it, and although our time together was cut short, I will always remember you as the person who showed me the stars and held my hand through my darkest moments. I hope those wonderful stars dont completely disappear but simply hide for a time. I am looking forwarded to that day; I know that day will come. I have faith.
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Pollen Liana Kyrk
so tonight the mood was cold pretentious superficial
this life and there is always this life lurking longing hoping i was never a very good wallflower
and i became a wallflower at the high school dance waiting to be picked and i was never a very good wallflower because I am nice or sweet or cute
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Destiny Calls...
Nieves Reyes
I spark a fire with my words Light my soul for all that its worth
Beauty in Imperfections Jesus Ramirez
Wood disintegrates, moment alters For that split second destiny catches Me in dub-re, Why am I so far to reach? Destiny consumes me. Now watch it rule me. I am rising. I am climbing. I am almost there On my own two feet. Destiny calls I must not await her. Ashes sing. Moment rings. I fly high like Im the king.
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No Champion Here
The torment of lost love and hope remains, My head and heart, in preparation for war. Battles fought, leaving my body tired and slain. No telling what may be the final score this time. Incessant plights and pleas viciously ignored. No longer will this be a game of sharp wits, Morphing into something I abhor. Internal tears will be the only end for this bit now. Caught in the middle, my soul aches for peace. There must be only one winner this time around. Devastation equals the only increase. Destruction now transformed to the true grind. I will stop this now, how could I resist? My dying choice made, I now cease to exist.
Lacie Ralls
Gas Mask Sarah Wilson
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Either/Or Don Schol
Angel of Mercy Don Schol
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Fate Don Schol
Time with Tell Don Schol
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Suicides
Joshua Smith
First a SPLASH! Teens hanging nooses, many murdered. Do you see a correlation? We see different, everyone. Five percent in the dark, ninety-five pretentious ASSHOLES! All humans spilling secrets about you and how you see Years of ridicule, badgering, beat downs. Starving for affection, something needs to give. YELL! SCREAM! IT WILL GET BETTER! Just wait it out, I promise It will get better. A mockery in video form and soon a way out We tell their stories over and over. You exhale relentlessness, they inhale relentlessness. We lost all control. Dip your hands in blood wait. its already there. Sitting in the back, watching you. WANTING to say something, NEEDING to say STOP! LEAVE THEM ALONE! Defenseless Broken down Embarrassed Alone
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Contemplation Lily Rodriguez
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Self-Devastation
Nieves Reyes
Debilitated, though I stroke my ballpoint, My eyes discharge, leaving nothing but sorrows; This is it. My life. Suffocation; break-point. Deterioration of the flesh. Ashes sing. Every speck of dust is what Ive come to trust. Is there any way to drain me of my misery? I hope the exit is joyful-and I hope never to return, Frida Kahlo expresses in her words; Death is not my concern. Debilitated. Self-Devastation. I welcome death with open arms, Release me from this ache I feel inside. They say an aching heart is simply a mistake
Extraction Don Schol
Tell me, how far will it have to break until My insanity and anatomy decide to wake? Debilitated. Self-Devastation. Isolation, corruption A missing piece of a puzzle. It all seems to be a consumption, Mentally and physically. As I hang from this noose, I have nothing to lose. Do not cut me down I have nothing to lose. Debilitated. Self-Devastation.
58
Reality
Nieves Reyes and Brittney Schmelter
Bridge, Japanese Samantha Sprankle
Impatience; nuisance A look to the sky and its all useless I can no longer do this. Never in my life have I met this suffocation Now I am bound to wallow in isolation. Twisted irony shackled at the wrist; Reality settles in. To live in the moment Or die in unconquered dreams, Again, reality settles in.
Inside the Frame
59
He threw
American Eagle
Adrian Cook, Ph.D.
He stands at bluffs edge, Arms outstretched, At the threshold of flight or death. This bluffs no ordinary natures high rise, But a bluff this time, Of the poker kind, Waiting for those who are They to call his hand, To prod him, to push him; One more Goddamn time Over the edge. Hell do it -Dont test him. Theyve made a mess of him. The growth arrested in him, Like a child not allowed to go outside. He hides In his mind, Packing around him, Like the rat he is: Social investments, Physical tenement, Things, stuff, vestments, Testaments To the fact that be believed, Had received the memo; That to be, He had to own, to buy, to multiply Those material possessions That would, without question, Make him human, Make him cool, Make him worth something, But fuck that, hes through.
All the garbage He couldnt afford in the first place, That he held tight to replace, The soul that never flowered In the acid rain of Viacom and MTV, of number one and me!, me!, me! Of Facebook friends, And digital fakery, Of AOL Time Warner pedigree; And be all and what you wanna be As long as we say who you ought to be And wrap you in wrapping paper holiday shopping sprees -The patents pending on his identity. Over the edge, And his slavery knows no race, No history. In this age of insecurity Where no ones free And were all picking cotton (the fabric of our lives), And chopping all the wood a woodchuck can chuck (in fifteen minutes or less), Bound inextricably To the brand-name culture machine Were whipped by the master program. But the chains of his oppressors: The iPhones that track his location, The smart ad generators that read his e-mail, guess his social vocations, Make a move to create him [The consumer consumed by 23 flavors and mixed messages remixed so many times, times, so many he tell cant which up way is] Pull him limb from limb. From them he seeks release. He must be unleashed Whatever the cost.
60
Like Neo, hes looking for an exit, But theres no respite, cuz the hard lines been cut, So he musters the guts. No, you might not expect it From this hip-hop Grunge boy Bugle Boy Echo toy Ambercrombie and Fitch fashions bitch, But it all left him empty And twitchin Cleaned out and reduced to the bottom line; The lines drawn thick and fine To define his confines. So hes climbed To the top of the Mountain of Doom, Because all his life Theyve told him why; (And he believed) Taught him what he can do, Told him what he cannot. So hes come to the point of launching Into the abyss of nothingness: The not theirs The no reply. Its time to take control, To take his life So, standing bare, The purchase purged, Arms outstretched -- wide, He steps off the cliff. . . And FLIES
Grand Canyon Harry Stark
Inside the Frame
61
Ella Observa
Linda Pea
Ella nada ms mira la luna Los piensamentos de ella se divagan Mientras el viento sopla por su pelo Ella sigue observando La noche se oscurece Por la noches las estrellas brillan en el cielo Todava ella est sentada, ni una palabra ni una lagrima Ella reza que se le vaya el dolor y que se le vayan las memorias feas La luna se desvanece Hasta este momento todava sigue observando Ponindose de pie hasta que la luna se desaparezca
62
Does a Cowboy Ever Cry?

Paul Sexton
Does a cowboy ever cry at night When left with his thoughts and alone? Does he ever drop to his knees in prayer and think of his family and home? Does he laugh out loud then lapse to tears When he sees his mothers face? Does he think of her loving touch and smile, a life full of love and grace? That dreadful day he packed his bag His childhood days were gone. He shook Pas hand and kissed his Ma Then left to be on his own.
Abuelo Mayra Olmos
He was gone for days, months then years learned to ride, rope and brand. He faced the greatest fears he had, made a straight up good cowhand. But the weight of time and brushes with death, Burn deep and take their toll. This night the buckaroo will kneel And search deep within his soul. When that still, small voice burns within, hell turn his thoughts to home. Come first light hell claim his pay, and again strike out on his own.
Inside the Frame
63
Suckage
Leigh Schneidewent
I dont think it has to suck: The work, The falls, The struggle to rise again. . . None of it. Do I get to choose? Will I ever believe? I can if I do some soft stepping Heel Toe Breath In Left Out Right -Rolling forward Instead of stumbling. And for a moment, This moment, Ive got it. Feel each ray of my foot, Touch the ground, Push through, And lock in. In Left Out Right It is amber-green, The color of these rays, Interlocking With reddish-brown And it is a lie, this fear. I have glimpsed the Truth. I have seen it, yes. . . Have stood in the presence of God. I have spoken to Him Many times, In many ways. It is speaking The correct language; Thats the hard part. One has to speak to Her With ones True Voice. And this world Distorts that voice Every time our senses are engaged. The assault is non-stop. No ceasefires. Not even in time of shared tragedy, Especially not then. It is a barrage, A bloody blitzkrieg Set in motion Millennia ago. And golden-lit Rods of Earth reaching up Like a damn divine Lego set. And Ive got it For just that long, Then BOOM! Mother Culture pimp-slaps me Back into the disconnected body. Ive seen Abuse itself, kill and die A thousand million times On TV And I am afraid again.
On a long enough timeline Any value can be manufactured. I wonder why we chose these. No foresight. No imagination. Too bad were on fix-it patrol. . . but we are. What can we choose that will, centuries later, blossom into A New Earth Consciousness? We can, you know. Ive seen it When my feet hit the ground and we breathe in unison Left In Right Out The status quo Will have to be broken With painfully calculated concision. I heard once that theres beauty in the breakdown. It will be difficult, But beautiful. And It doesnt have to suck. The work, The fall, The struggle to rise as one. . . None of it.
64
Facades
Outraged, frustrated, grieving, Looking at what weve become. A generation with no respect, Not for anyone, Not for ourselves Selling ourselves short, Women, sex Without emotion Is just an Act. Forgetting their worth, theyd rather hide. Behind fake faces, Piled high with eyeliner, Blush, mascara, lipstick. Leaving nothing but, Stained white pillow cases. Behind fake personalities, Built from many facades: The brave face. The happy face. The friend. The enemy. All becoming lost in the Multitudes. To scared to show vulnerability. Not daring to shed a tear, Afraid of ruining their make-up. So theyd rather backstab others, Petrified to show their true colors. Men, Forgetting the strength in their hands: Hitting. Raping. Taking. cared of being vulnerable In a world with no forgiveness For the fragile.
Lily Rodriguez
Knowing this story is all wrong. Same old tragic ending repeating, Keep it replaying. Like a B r O k E n R e C o R d, Distorted. But no one does anything. Sitting, Watching, Silent. Too afraid to stand up. Too afraid to cry, STOP! But nothing seizes. Eyes do not see. Not the beauty of earth nor the beauty of What can be, What was, What is. Instead choosing to blame. Focusing on only the hideous. But what if that too is a mask? A mask wanting to be Ripped Off. Too scared to show our insides Where red blood flows. DAMN IT WE BLEED!! We hurt We live. Yet our souls threaten to Vanish. Can you hear me? One touch of kindness would.Save. Me Damn it, just look at this!
Uncle Sam Ryan Harvey
Smell the decay: The rotten souls? Taste the bitter words? Burning tongues. Slowly suffocating Like a poison. No. Of course not. No one even turned around. Too self absorbed in the Multi-facet Mediocre... life. When did it get this bad? How did it get this bad? Wasted time. Wasted life. Wasted paper. Wasted thoughts. Can you hear me?
Inside the Frame
65
Rebirth
Love, by blind virtue thrust Upon the fool who names his paramour; Is damned for such insolence. Burned by fire, Long time he lay, sinking, overgrown, rotting.
Casey Mitchell
He, a gentle soul who seeks to be loved by another Drowned with water, and blown away into the wind, His ashes scattered to the earth from which he sprang. Through sun and moon, storm and blaze and bitter cold, By will of that unseen of Holy passion preserved Within he remains. Not dead! Not dead! Then, through intervention of powers old and mightya spark; A tiny apparition glowing in the darkness. O mocking Will o the Wisp! Away! But an ember of hope kindles; only warm, only faint. Slow and steady it catches and burns, then flaming, rising Out of the earth upon wings of Heaven borne Into the air! The sky! Alive! Alive! Then diving, diving into the great sea where pain is soothed And hearts are free to swim among the water angels. Rising and falling through currents of true love under an endless horizon, The maelstrom ceases and a new moon rises. Stars weave a net of safety. He emerges with a brilliant gasp, reborn into this life, in the arms of the butterfly.
66
Manufactured Beauty Sarah Wilson
Timeless Lovers
Bethany Sanderson
Please! Fate; cruel, cruel fate; oh what have you done? New York taxi cabs cannot take us there, This lone empty heart wilts, pays the fare. Romeos Juliet has sung her last song, Unfortunate mishap my life may be; Year upon year; findings ever my choice? Tell the stars I do indeed have a voice. Forgetting not her first flashed glance of me Man for woman acting upon strong whim; Chaos and sense intermix, then collide. Love rises high, a chill upon my skin. Eyes that cannot be mine; perhaps I died. Time-rests faith denotes serendipity We, timeless lovers, just our will to be.
Inside the Frame
67
In Arms Amy Byers
Round
Joshua Smith
Shame circumnavigates my naked self. All my edges are clouded grey and black. Im bracing, still, silent, innate attack. These emotions belong to someone else, nervous weak hands place my soul on the shelf. My feet ware down and they begin to crack; cramping sets in, sore muscles, tight, retract. My skin soon turned to ash I need some help! If I stand, will I then be completed? Plant these feet firm! Stabilize breath exhale Unprotected, I must run from this place. One step at a time, a new niche each lead. Once ash, my skin morphs fast. Now Im pale. Reinvented Increased speed, new set pace.
68
My Little Brother is Officially Thirty-Two

Adrian Cook, Ph.D.
Its a trailer party. Thanksgiving morning. 2 a.m. and were done, Been at it since 12 midnight. This is the exercise of adulthood. This decidedly drunken duet, Me and my brother. This year holidays collide And birthdays must be observed. We are doing what hillbilly stock does best, I suppose In this single-wide mobile guest house Parked permanently in Grannys yard, a threshold and tiring house to whatever comes next. We have slept into the holidays here For three decades and change. Tonight my brother, who, For way too long, I kept aging at 10 years, Leans back, Ashes his cigarette And announces two things: Ive had a few drinks, my friend; And I shall be thirty-two from this day forth. Until you turn thirty-three, I say And add, Im staring down the barrel of forty. How fucked up is that? We have seen, my brother and I, Have seen in our lifetimes, Television series remade and re-imagined, Our favorite rock ballad remixed and reinserted as the backbone of our favorite hip-hop cut, The death of Mr. Rogers and Mr. Hooper, The ENTIRE life cycle of the NASA Space Shuttle program
Open Mic Mayra Olmos
The inception, birth, literal disintegration And retirement of the promise That by the time we were twenty-something We could hop a flight to the moon, Watch the Earth rise And celebrate the brilliance of humanity. At twenty-eight I got tired of waiting for such promises to be kept, Decided to make some of my own And ride it out While we stare at the moon, Feel the Earth falling And mourn the blindness of humanity Still, Its been a good ride, I think, if not without disillusion. Here in the trailer A space of fortune telling and imagination Now a place of reflection Reformatted by time, I remember.
Inside the Frame
69
My Little Brother is Officially Thirty-Two, cont.

I remember the warm feel of the golden seventies-tastic carpet, The big cabinet television That broadcast Macys and the Cowboys on Thanksgiving That showed us Santas location on Christmas Eve. I remember waking in the room adjacent, Knowing that Santa had come, Failing (or flat-out refusing) to notice that My gifts were wrapped in the selfsame paper my mother and father used. I remember discovering the hoax, Perhaps the most expansive conspiracy of all time, Because I had learned to read, Could decipher the headline in our hometown paper that read: WHY ITS OKAY TO LIE TO YOUR CHILDREN ABOUT SANTA CLAUS This is the burden of knowledge. If one is curious enough, one inevitably encounters very bad news. From that day forth The trailer lost its shine, Became, in my eyes, The run-down domicile of vagrant relatives it really was. I saw for the first time The peeling plastic panels, The ranch dirt from an acreage Of wood and pasture haunted by phantoms of childhood transformed by time, trouble, and truth, Ground inextricably into the carpet; Saw through the faade That fell, like so many others. Like the belief that humanity is Ultimately good And fair And honest. Still, I cant help but love this place, Now stripped of all illusion, For ignorance is NOT bliss, And I make the conscious choice, choose to believe, In spite of all proof, In an omniscient being Of benevolent intent Who rewards goodness, Kindness, Virtue. Because we all need The occasional tangible reward. We are in form, after all. Here for a time. So here tonight, The childish toys The robot cars, the cheap plastic prehistoric monsters Put away, We hoist our adult toys with a toast And embrace the peeling panels And the dirt As proof that this place is, At least and at most, Real. That the memory of years passed is present, Has brought us thirty-some years Into a future Devoid of commercial space flights and flying cars But full of life while we still live Full of Love while we still choose A place of safety while we hold fast to one another Full, for now again with a new list of infinite choices Waiting to be made. Of beliefs begging, Against all reason, To be believed. No longer blissful dreamers, We are no longer passive, Subject to the story, But agents of our own employ. The paneling now peeled back To reveal the man Sheltered so long, Too long Beneath the boy. We leave our prints In the dirt of centuries, A marker of where weve been, A promise of what we will become. But this time, The only ones who can break the promises Are me And my thirty-two-year-old brother.
70
Ring of Flowers Sophia Ceballos
Portrait
Daniel Braddock
Is there any meaning in the image Ive designed? A portrait I deem perfect, yet still cannot define. And have I any purpose when Ive lost all fear and faith? The darkest depth of Hell is just a lapse of love and hate. How am I to balance with the weight of asking, Why? Im prey to any riddle that catches my drifting mind. And what if I grow weary long before I take the throne? I fight for my own kingdom and the crown of self-control. Can I really trust a single word that you impart? My numbers speak the truth, but no amount can hold a heart. And will I fall asleep if I remain in bed for days? I fight for my salvation, just to find a bigger cage. The endless search for meaning in the image Ive designed; Will my portrait still be perfect, if by others, its defined?
Inside the Frame
71
Awake and in Form

Adrian Cook, Ph.D.
Insomnia neither awake nor asleep but suspended -subliminal. the choice is not up to me. semi-cognition another cigarette one wet match in the dark and a vague idea of the self, fumbling, tumbling between madness and exhaustion. voices speak forcefully in gibberish whispers, pure ambiguity. night gives way this is not how normal people pass the night. they sleep in beds un-riddled by answers with no questions. sound asleep content with visions of self, vaguer still in a world drawn in straight lines, horizontal and unconscious. what dreams may come when sleep eludes the sleeper, and waking life is a half beat out of step with the worlds weary march to the edge of a doom foreseen but seemingly unstoppable. to daze, and I follow the voices, wishing alternately for silence and for clarity. turned to ash; the wet match mercifully lights, flickers and fades. the brief swell of flame illuminating shadow teasing the dream, the dreamer. it is difficult to judge sometimes which is worse: their state or mine? and we, the sleepless, pluck another match, damp with doubt, from the dewy ground and wonder on, seeking salvation and a surface fit for the strike.
72
Mahleramics Air/Earth/Fire/Water Circling Albers Thomas Seawell
Doria Williams
Arise from the sea; Walk with me.
Night Sea
Shall we bathe under the pale kiss of moon light? Show me; Touch my fancy. May I sink into beached sands of delight? I am an angel of your mercy Drown upon my heaven. Upon my wings take flight Divine waves of deep. Cover me, I shall beg my foam over-taketh his life. Miles from the sea
Mahleramics Thomas Seawell
We float endlessly Until our vessel gives way to glorys daylight.
Inside the Frame
73
Becoming Nosferatu
Ten years ago to this day I had a family, a house, a good job, really the whole nine yards, and I was also alive. Since then, the days have become darker, and the nights blacker than I could ever imagine. There is no way of describing this place. The only thing I know for certain is that neither is it Heaven nor is it Hell. What are you doing so close to the gate? Ricky shuttered anxiously. I dont know, I was just curious of the world outside. Have you ever wanted to leave this prison, I replied in complete hatred, knowing no other way I would ever leave this place. It has been ten years, and no one has told me the extent of what I am dealing with. Am I dead? I questioned, already knowing the answer. I figured the Nosferatu would have answered that question for you, Ricky sarcastically answered. I know they exist, but why is everyone here so terrified of these creatures? We have plenty to offer their kind, just as they have to offer us. If you want to go to the other side, I cant stop you; I can only advise that you not to. I can do nothing more than that, the old man spoke in a whisper. The Nosferatu were soul suckers that fed on human spirits. I have seen them feast on many of the newcomers, but never understood their being. The un-ending war between the soul suckers and the humans existed long before I entered this world. I did not know the purpose they served, but I knew I wanted their power; the potential of it was unfathomable. I witnessed one of them suck on a friends
Kevin Meine
neck and disappear in the same instant. It was as if he had gained the power of flight after procuring my friends soul. I knew nothing of this world, wherever I was, but I did know that these creatures intrigued me. The soul suckers were very hard to differentiate from the rest of the individuals. There was, however, one key aspect that gave them awaythe voice. Every time a soul sucker was nearby, the voices of the souls they had most recently procured, could be heard. It was as if the strengths these creatures possessed came from each of the souls they had acquired. After a few minutes with some selfpreserved ideologies, I decided to venture beyond the gates. I gathered my things and began my journey beyond the path that not many others had ever traveled. The darkness engulfed my thoughts. All at once I became drowned in bright light. Was this all a dream?
It was confusing and unsettling as I wandered through the thick blanket of blackness not able to see the ground below my feet. With one careful foot in front of the other, I was prudent to make certain I was not caught off guard. I had no plan for what I was to do next, but I was determined. Out of nowhere I heard a voice. Not one, but two, maybe even three, and they were coming closer and closer. There was nothing I could do except hide in the undergrowth. Maybe if I stayed quiet they would pass, I thought to
74
myself as the voices drew closer. Time seemed to stand still as I waited. I heard my heart beat getting faster and faster. So much so that I thought I would have to hold my heart to keep it from pulsating out of my chest. I see you, a voice louder than the others called out. Dont worry, I wont bitehard. What was I to do now? It was a Nosferatu. I wanted nothing more than to be one of these powerful beings, but now, in the presence of one, I wanted nothing more than the security of the compound. Im here, I hesitantly stuttered. What brings you outside the gate? I have never seen a human quite so brave, the beast questioned. I want to possess the power your kind embraces, I replied. What do you have to offer that I cannot take? the beast inquired. Well, I really only have one good answerIm not completely dead. I think! I said not sure of the truth in my statement. Is that right? In that short instant the creature moved to me and bit, only with this bite, he did not take my soul. Still alive. Nothing changed. I had seen many others dissipate into thin air. What was different about this bite? What has happened to me? I squeamishly asked, drained from the beasts feeding. You will soon find out, the creature replied in an antagonistic tone. Suddenly everything became blurry fuzzy.
Eyes Like a Cat Sophia Ceballos
Whats happening? No reply. Clear, loudly spoken in an unknown voice. All at once I became drowned in bright light. Was this all a dream? No, it had been too long. I could hear many voices over me as well as continuous beeping. The air smelled very sterile. BP 132. We have him back now! Dont worry Mr. Riggins, you were in an accident; you are now in the E.R., and you
are going to be alright. We thought we had lost you there for a minute. Now, I need you to follow the light with your eyes. Can you speak at all? I felt whole. I could not feel any pain at all. I did, however, have an unfamiliar craving. Im fine, I whispered quietly. Come here, I whispered even softer. What? Im sorry, but I cant hear you, the doctor said as he leaned in toward my mouth. I said, let me try this, I whispered and I sank my newly acquired fangs into his neck.
Inside the Frame
75
Heirloom
A hundred years, A thousand fears all in one repast.
Untitled Chris Frankenfield
Casey Mitchell
Frigid heirloom which I take, through threefold times youve last;
The ghosts of a horrid time too difficult to tellWhy would I, In wonder pry into your sodden Hell? You saw a man be killed and his wife be driven mad. In sleep she shrove His bloody clothes, a penance to be had. Why then must I have you, o evil thing of old? I must confess, In secret, bless you, and then you must be sold.
76
Nuriel
In the spring of twenty-nine, But most especially mine. Ma and Pa were toiling In the field one April day.
Casey Mitchell
When at last he stood, He was so very tall. And it seemed to me he changed, For he was not sad at all. For the kindness you have shown me, Your family will be blessed. Then he took off through the heavens, And a sob heaved in my breast. From that day our crops were full; We wanted for no grain. Pa would pay off all his debt And hope would come again.
It was the worst storm season that we had When lives would change forever,
The earth was hard and wouldnt give But a single bale of hay. I was nearer to the house When a black cloud rose and thundered. And a lightning bolt of heavy power Tore our tree asunder. Hailstones started falling And the wind began to pitch. The storm began a tumult That beat us like a switch. The storm, it stopped quite suddenly, And that was when I saw him: A man with tattered clothing And a countenance so solemn. He lay among the hedgerow Neath the tree, a burned thing. And as he stirred, I faltered, For this man was born with wings. I ran and got some water And wiped it on his face. He stared at me in wonder And I held him in embrace.
Whenever life gets difficult, And my heart is full of scorn, I think about the angel That I rescued from the storm.
Fragmentation Barbara Arabian
Inside the Frame
77
Revolutions
Revolving; spinning We intersect On a tangent together, Falling back into separate lives. I revolve around a problem of myself: individuality. Unyielding in personal reproach. Existing together in small moments What took place behind us? Questions unresolved. Words I cant swallow as bitter As bile. Isolated in our own viewpoints, Bounded by experiences, Shared perspectives. You cant leave the past -Inescapable from your own desires. We intersect. Matching paths cross, Until the gravity of love pulls us apart again Into eclipses that carry us Again into damaged circles; Broadened, somehow, for having touched.
Terry D. Heflin
Inventory Reduction Lisa Boyd
78
Disease
A tear falls from her cheek. She stares with wounds so deep, Im surprised shes still alive.
Lily Rodriguez
But she screams at the top of her lungs, Where every single wound has come from. Not any meaningless bullshit whining, Instead she screams only truth. She screams till it aches and she has to take a breath. Everything she has kept hidden is let out. Hidden only for hope that one day, This would all just be her past. He holds beer in his hand as he claims to listen; The brand does not matter for to him, it is all the alike; Bud Light, Corona, Miller Light, Heineken, Coors Light. The poison is all the same with different names. He places the drink down gently, Trying to fool her into thinking he is still sober. Making every move measured and calm, As to not point out any clumsiness on his behalf. But she has seen this too many times before. His words slur, as he mumbles what he thinks are sentences. Yet there is one phrase he can still say clearly, And with piercing preciseness he repeats these words, I WILL NEVER STOP DRINKING. Her heart sinks into an abyss of sorrow. He blames the world and everyone in it for his frustration, including her. His excuse to drink is his frustration. You dont give a shit what we feel and how it hurts us. But we have all forgotten what it is like. We fake it very well, but this DISEASE Has decayed anything that ever meant anything to us. Eyes weep tears of mourning, For herethis nightall hope has died. The disease has won. Inside the Frame 79 These words mean nothing to him. her suffering to him. His eyes swell with tears as the weight of the words slowly begin to sink in. Beginning to sober up slightly he says, What I desire most is for us to be a family.
Clay-Merz Skyline Fred Spaulding
For some reason she continues to cry furiously
Father Andrew J. Ortiz
Rising Andrew J. Ortiz
80
They Andrew J. Ortiz
Inside the Frame
81
Theresa D. Heflin Patricia Ann Kimble Kiki Robbirds Chip Cogswell Rita
Katheran Gardner Matthew McDermott Daniel Moore Lacie Ralls Nie
Sanders Kimberly Robertson Celia Cortez Sarah Wilson Briana Bacon Veronica Allam Rosenda Rodriguez Michelle Kaytaz Taylor Larson
Braman Kimberly Robertson Mary Bole Alejandro Garza Courtney Va George Edwards, PhD Whitney Cook Patricia Serrano Antonia Petersen Adejumo Maria Rodriguez Jesus Ramirez Don Schol Joshua Smith Sexton Mayra Olmos Leigh Schneidewent Joshua Smith Amy Byers
Frankenfield Barbara Arabian Fred Spaulding Andrew J. Ortiz Theresa
Andrew Derry Casey Mitchell Jordyn Walters Shirley Dendrinos Ka
Reyes Liliana Rodriguez Bethany Sanderson Candace Turner Rileigh S
Abigail M. Hernandez Sophia Ceballos Lisa Boyd Brittney Schmelter
Ryan Harvey Zahra Tabaei Adrian Gandara Melissa Head Heather B
Jennifer Booker Perla Alvarez Daniel Moore Abigail Hernandez G
Liana Kyrk Debney Ochoa-Flores Kerry Nelson Christopher Olubunmi
Samantha Sprankle Adrian Cook, PhD Harry Stark Linda Pea Paul S
Daniel Braddock Doria Williams Thomas Seawell Kevin Meine Ch
82
2001
Contributors
MCR
a Short Andrew Derry Casey Mitchell Jordyn Walters Shirley Dendrinos
eve Reyes Liliana Rodriguez Bethany Sanderson Candace Turner Rileigh
n Abigail M. Hernandez Sophia Ceballos Lisa Boyd Brittney Schmelter Ryan Harvey Zahra Tabaei Adrian Gandara Melissa Head Heather
an Jennifer Booker Perla Alvarez Daniel Moore Abigail Hernandez Liana Kyrk Debney Ochoa-Flores Kerry Nelson Christopher Olubunmi Samantha Sprankle Adrian Cook, PhD Harry Stark Linda Pea Paul Daniel Braddock Doria Williams Thomas Seawell Kevin Meine Chris
a D. Heflin Patricia Ann Kimble Kiki Robbirds Chip Cogswell Rita Short
atheran Gardner Matthew McDermott Daniel Moore Lacie Ralls Nieve
Sanders Kimberly Robertson Celia Cortez Sarah Wilson Briana Bacon
r Veronica Allam Rosenda Rodriguez Michelle Kaytaz Taylor Larson
Braman Kimberly Robertson Mary Bole Alejandro Garza Courtney Van
George Edwards, PhD Whitney Cook Patricia Serrano Antonia Petersen
i Adejumo Maria Rodriguez Jesus Ramirez Don Schol Joshua Smith
Sexton Mayra Olmos Leigh Schneidewent Joshua Smith Amy Byers
hris Frankenfield Barbara Arabian Fred Spaulding Andrew J. Ortiz
Inside the Frame
83
DVD MCR Index

Marine Creek Reflections is a publication produced by the students, faculty and staff of Tarrant County College Northwest Campus. Theresa D. Heflin, Ed.S. Faculty Editor Tarrant County College Northwest 4801 Marine Creek Parkway Fort Worth, Texas 76179 817-515-7209 Front Cover Photo: Skylight Gallery Rita Short Back Inside Cover Art: Students Name???, Student Printed by Tarrant County College Printing Services Press run: 350 copies Copies are available from: Tarrant County College Northwest Campus English Department
2011 Tarrant County College

NW.MCR.30.02270.04.11.TK: TCC is an Equal Opportunity institution/equal access to the disabled.
84
2011 Tarrant County College

NW.MCR.30.02270.04.11.TK: TCC is an Equal Opportunity institution/equal access to the disabled.

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Marine Creek refleCtions

TarranT CounTy College norThwesT Volume 12

Inside the Frame

2011 Fine arTs liTerary Journal

Marine Creek refleCtions

Inside the Frame

TarranT CounTy College norThwesT

Patricia Ann Kimble

Andrew Derry, Student

Casey Mitchell, Student Jordyn Walters, Student

Student Staff Editors

Marine Creek Reflections

Benny and the Jets Celia Cortez

Marine Creek Reflections

Table for One Sarah Wilson

Inside the Frame

Marine Creek Reflections

Inside the Frame

Moscas Abigail M. Hernandez

Marine Creek Reflections

Who isReyes She? Nieves

Self Portrait III (Some Loose Screws) Sophia Ceballos

Inside the Frame

Visions of the Future

Hope and Perserverance Lisa Boyd

Marine Creek Reflections

Lion and Lady Veronica Allam

Inside the Frame

Marine Creek Reflections

Oregon Retreat Michelle Kaytaz

When Does the Planter Come Out to Play? Andrew Derry

No Name Hope and Perserverance

Inside the Frame

Marine Creek Reflections

ALLEN ALLEN LAVIE SAY LAVIE

Hehe, long shift.

Inside the Frame

So I can make myself laugh.

Marine Creek Reflections

Inside the Frame

(Looking at her intently)

Marine Creek Reflections

The fish better show up today.

Inside the Frame

Marine Creek Reflections

The Last Jam Session Ryan Harvey

Inside the Frame

Fish Zahra Tabaei

Marine Creek Reflections

Inside the Frame

Streetlight Monet adrian gandara

Marine Creek Reflections

Reflection Melissa Head

Untitled Student Collaboration/Chris Cunningham Faculty

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Watchman Sophia Ceballos

Marine Creek Reflections

Into the Wild Ryan Harvey

Inside the Frame

Marine Creek Reflections

Alanis Morissette Celia Cortez

Inside the Frame