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Transcript of "Desert Wanderings" Vol. 13
Volume 132013
Desert Wonderings
Desert Wanderings literary magazine and literary arts workshops
are available through Art Access. Call 801-328-0703, option 5 for
more information.
Copyright 2013 Art Access
On the cover:Transcending Old Stories, ceramics,
by Dennise Gackstetter
Desert Wonderings
About Desert Wanderings
Since 1996 Art Access has offered an annual series of creative writing
workshops, conducted by professional writers, for adults and teens with
disabilities. The program provides participants the opportunity to develop
and polish their writing skills and share their voices and perspectives.
Workshops are held at partner venues where individuals with disabilities
live or gather.
Compositions from workshops, and from a public call for entries for writers
with and without disabilities, are juried into this literary magazine, giving all
participating writers an opportunity to share their literary voices and stories
with people in the community.
Editor: Amanda K. Finlayson
Layout Designer: Richard E. Carter
Workshop Instructors:
Greg Near, Sara Caldiero-Orteli and Sadie Hoagland
Art Access would like to thank the following organizations for hosting literary
arts workshops for their clients between October 2012 and September 2013
Art Access’ Writers Edge Writing Group
TURN City Center for the Arts
Primary Children’s Wasatch Canyons Campus
Desert Wandering Literary Magazine Submissions:
Submissions should be emailed by September 15 of each year to amanda@
accessart.org with “WRITING SUBMISSION” typed into the subject line, along
with your age. Submissions can also be made anonymously (please indicate in
your email if this is your preference). Because of our diverse readership, we ask
that submitted content be publicly responsible.
Writers with and without disabilities are encouraged to submit. Questions? Visit
our website at www.accessart.org/desert-wanderings-literary-arts.
Desert Wonderings
The Art Access Literary Arts program is made possible through the generous support of Salt Lake
County’s Zoo, Arts & Parks program, as well as funding from and partnerships with the following:
Salt Lake County Zoo, Arts & Parks
VSA/Kennedy Center
Utah Division of Art & Museums
Jarvis & Constance Doctorow Family Foundation
George S. and Dolores Doré Eccles Foundation
Salt Lake City Arts Council
The contents of the Desert Wanderings literary magazine do not necessarily represent
the views or policies of Art Access nor its patrons or funders, and endorsement of views
presented within should not be assumed.
Desert Wonderings
Table of ContentsLiterary Work
ADULT PERSPECTIVES & VOICES
Alchemy or In Other Worlds, by Casey Tracy............................7
Between the Folds , by Brooks Oscarson ...............................10
Briefly Passing , by Louis de Sully...........................................12
Turning , by Dennise Gackstetter..............................................13
Dying Green, by Katherine C. January....................................14
Girlish Dreams , by Bryn Ramjoue’...........................................15
Counting , by Shauna Brock.....................................................16
God of War , by Tara Carpenter................................................17
GAIA - Poem 1 rom XYZ-A Digital Poem ,
by Elizabeth Miklavcic................................................................18
GAIA - Poem 2 from XYZ - A Digital Poem,
by Elizabeth Miklavcic................................................................20
Seeing You , by Guil Funston....................................................22
Retirement, by Mark L. Smith..................................................22
Single American Daughter,
by Melissa Rasmussen...............................................................23
Genuflection, by Louis de Sully.................................................24
Loose Ends, by Brooks Oscarson..............................................25
Clean, by Brooks Oscarson........................................................26
One Two Three, by Casey Tracy................................................27
Wednesday, by Mark L. Smith .................................................30
A Perfect Leaf, by Bryn Ramjoue’.............................................30
The Borderline Mistake, by Louis de Sully................................31
Inversion, by Mark L. Smith ..................................................31
TEEN PERSPECTIVES & VOICES
Battling the Monster, by Michael Clarke...................................33
Ozzie Beam A poem about Arlington National Cemtery,
by Elizabeth Quatrale ...............................................................34
What I Think, by Delanna Brock-Murray....................................35
Rap Song, by Chantelle Thomas..............................................36
Morning Glory, by Bryn Ramjoue’.............................................37
Table of ContentsArtwork
Fractal, Textured Glass, By Keaton Buck8
Bad Wolf, Collage, By Emma Ringwood 9
Family Tree, Charcoal & Paste, By Robin Eliason11
Mixed Media, Assemblage, By Inna Findlay12
Fractal, Textured Glass, By Keaton Buck14
Medical School, Degradée, By Phil Cannon15
Pioneer Girl, Watercolor on Paper, By Lisa K. Jacobsen16
Monster Brawl I, Claymation Film Characters & Set, By Brett Ross 17
Epic Noise Wall, Fused Glass, By Keaton Buck 21
Ramona’s Letter, Collage, By Mazilyn Davis22
Nativity Studies, Pastel, By Joanne Robbins24
The Carpool, Acrylic on Panel, By Madison Lewis26
Keys to the Galaxy, Assemblage, By Isabella Perkins30
Ancestors, Assemblage, By Marisa Jaskowski32
Monster Brawl II, Claymation Film Characters & Set, By Brett Ross 33
Shadow Realm , Collage, By Claire Melton 35
Badass Boy, Stained Glass, By Maddie Flavin36
Keys to the Galaxy, Assemblage, By Isabella Perkins37
Desert Wonderings 7
Alchemy or In Other Worlds
by Casey Tracy
Poetry is breathing, writing beckons, ideas and thoughts gleaming along the edges of day,
a moment on a saffron afternoon yearning to be stark naked on a page,
Diving into the work, wandering the interior landscape of memory,
weaving my way around pre-mammalian stones,
ancient rocks colored gray as fog lifts across the Viking Sea,
Before I was born the apples of these stones were carved into my cheekbones,
to recall and relive timelessness at each glance in the mirror,
So the Holy Ones would recognize me, as One, as Muse, as Artist;
as fine silver cleaved, split, a splinter shard taken from Changing Woman’s body,
Sometimes I forget; releasing self and body, falling into transparency,
watching edges vanish, disappearing into hidden worlds reflected in
the faucet while I bathe.
Disassociation shimmering inside fragile encasement of flesh,
I take flight, clumsy fingers unable to grasp,
skimming white balloon string trailing behind,
I become the fat drop of sweat perched on the exquisite plume of your eyelash;
see our two skins evaporating, limbs flowing like honey,
separateness blurred beyond recognition,
I am your deep exhale of a thousand wars,
Desert Wonderings 8
FractalTextured GlassBy Keaton Buck
Carving a space for you to live in me completely,
we breathe the pomegranate’s desire to stain your mouth, my fingers;
in the long pauses I often wonder
the Divine and I remember my lineage,
bloodline traced back to when Time began,Leaving, packing my car, driving to the desert; in search of the ancient and sacred, of Spider Woman and the feminine
at once Navajo, Greek, Egyptian, & Unnamable;
muses who create the world, who inspire
in fits of gilded, smoky laughter as they hold mirrors reflecting the light,Standing at canyon’s edge, before her front door once more,
collarbone beseeching at Spider Rock, ferociousness comes to rest;
giant, panting paws no longer in need,In a moment of recognition leaping into the middle of the stone tower,
present human condition dissolving as mica,
into seeds planting the earth,
into the fissure of fine silt dissipating on the tongue of water’s edge,
I take my place in the circle,
Amongst goddesses, ancestors, deities who sit around the fire dreaming up the world,
Desert Wonderings 9
“Listen to the details of Existence,”
in rolling plumes of timbre, they speak of lovers, giving birth to human children, how they also mothered Music, the earth, the Moon,
imagined stars into being; I learn the history and semiology of visions
before words ate our hearts, when dreams still dreamed within themselves,I glow in celebration of the succinct instance of perfect integration,
a holy moment of freedom, of internal marriage,
split seconds of intuition fell mid-flight in one bird’s swoop;
licked, charred, smoldering wound’s evaporation into inspiration,
witnessing my own reflection in a crescendo of jazz,Once I sat with Cleopatra, lost in the language of each fine gesture,
her simplicity of movement belying a lavish, brewing symphony;
she was a shaman, shape-shifter too, traveling across all time and space, We spoke of what really happened behind closed doors;
she told us of feasting, eating, consuming the snakes,
of woman and serpent turning upon themselves, the vastness of infinite night, until Ouroboros was created;Becoming one with Herself, beyond human sex,
so that she might transform and come home.Bad WolfCollageBy Emma Ringwood
Desert Wonderings 10
Between the folds of sex and drugslie bitter dreams & long lost hugsand memories like garden snakestoo quick to grab, too slick to takeand times that I wish to recallbut have lost through the haze of it allbetween the folds of sex and drugssit crying kids and stained, red rugsand girls in bathtubs, puking, cryingan innocent face we know is lying
Between the folds of here and thereare empty towns and soft nowheresand grocery bags with broken tongueslike tobacco heads with ruined lungsand ugly secrets left unsaidbodies breathing, though they’re deadbetween the folds of here and therelie reasons why this life’s unfairjust like some notes without their keysit’s better off if we’d just leave
Between the folds of love and hatesit crying kids, and parents lateand broken bones with strings attachedopen eggs with birds unhatchedand lovers tangled in each othertheir barren skin their only coverbetween the folds of love and hateperch tiny demons at your wakeand at the core we find our fearthat we ignore in all these tears
between the folds of you and Ithere hides those million old-age lieswe see the hurt, ignore the painhold on to something sure as rainan ocean occupies this spaceand hollowly I plead my casebetween the folds of you and Irest issues that we’ll try to hideand whomever you chose to blameno, they still won‘t have a name
between the folds of fire and icelay victims of your sordid vicelike fallen angels screaming hoarsebroken lab rats follow their coursea passion that we deem too fierce a distance that we cannot piercebetween the folds of fire and icewe find that each soul has a priceand every person can be boughtno matter what else you’ve been taught
between the folds of wrong and righti’ll realize I feel no more spitejust emptiness that keeps me wholeas my starvation keeps me fulland darkened corners where they’ll prayto be forgiven one more daybetween the folds of wrong and rightrests the sting of falling flightand children weep with eyes so widewe tell ourselves perhaps we tried
Between the Folds by Brooks Oscarson
Desert Wonderings 11
Family TreeCharcoal & Pastel
By Robin Eliason
between the folds of good and best
are motions we put to the test
a numbness filling us with greed
an aching we feel to succeed
a life alone full of self-hate
whispers, voices that can’t wait
between the folds of good and best
lay tired stars that cannot rest
their glow is dull, fame subsiding
eyes are closing, smiles widen
between the folds of life and death
lay kids in gutters holding their breath
and fallen roses, watch them cry
like tiny infants, live or die
you’ll hold me through this tragedy
in order to reveal my malady
between the folds of life and death
we stand with skulls so like Macbeth
we hold on tight to something small
and hope this life was worth it all
between the folds of always and forever
are fumbled words like gone and never
and hopes are dashed so lightning fast
we can’t remember what has passed
one day we’re laughing, now I cry
you stare so hard you don’t know why
between the folds of always and forever
rest promises sure as the weather
and reasons why I’m too blind to see
that this was written for you and me
Desert Wonderings 12
Briefly Passing, by Louis de Sully
Sebastian was born of a book
orange and ordinary
the lop eared pageswith a 70 year old musk
And a note to a friend:
Yet She was born of sensual music
In the world of dance
and happenstancea Master to herself
And when they met
They paused, sharing the infinite moment;
and in their perception she saw the world as he did
--just briefly--
but the flash came like silent lightning
with no evidence of its happening
save the charge in the air.
July 13, 1946
It can’t be as futile as we think --
when Spinoza having led the life he did
can write a philosophy like this.
Congratulations you Master, you.
Mixed MediaAssemblage
By Inna Findlay
Desert Wonderings 13
Turning by Dennise Gackstetter
His back was the side I knew of him best.When he didn’t knowwhat to do or to say, he’d turn his back and walk away. He hid his awkwardness in the turn,putting it in his pocket like keys.With the smallest shrug of his shoulders, and hidden hands, he’d turn away and set himself free.
I did not recognize it then.I just thought he didn’t care,that other things were more important than my small child joysor adolescent fear.
Travelling in opposite directions we moved, forward and back, apart and awayThe canyon grew wider with each passing day.
I know the texture of inadequacy
when my heart and tongue feel bound and tied.
My body knows it in the sag of shoulders,
the glance to one side,
the thick choking silence of unformed words.
Then the sigh of relief in the escape of turning,
and the freedom found in the first long stride.
It isn’t about not loving.
No, it’s about loving too much and knowing too little
how to express what you feel that is longing inside.
No confidence, no faith, no trusting your knowing.
Only fear, which is certain that you will fail when you try.
No one but you can understand this secret,
this understanding we share in turning away.
Love reaches far back across the long memory
its touch a healing, one small embrace.
An offering to tell you that it’s finally okay
that I love you in spite of your awkward way.
Desert Wonderings 14
Dying Green by Katherine C. January
leaves take on color
before they drop to the ground,
before the trees stand empty
gold or red or even leathery brown
the sun itself is stored in each leaf burst
burning first on darkened limbs then
letting go one night
in wind, in cold
even then, the color lingers
bright against the ground
brighter still in the chill of rain
revived in the ice of after-puddles
we are ready for the dying now
we have lived with gold, with crimson,
and color settles in deeper than the cold
One year, without warning, the order falters
leaves fall green without changing,
leaves die green on the branch of
the walnut tree
FractalTextured GlassBy Keaton Buck
that year we turn old without meaning to
unready for the winter we ache
for the shimmer of maples
flaming and dying with proper glory
trees burning on in our souls
against the days which darken by four
against the years which turn without gold
color a memory cradled in puddles
color a crunching in the orchard
as we pass...
Desert Wonderings 15
Girlish Dreams
by Bryn Ramjoue’
The silent moment before I hear your voice again is full of anticipation,
of stories unshared, connections waiting to be made, of hope.
The space between words yet spoken is sad with sighing breath
Not like I imagine the comfort of your breathing in the hour before dawn,
more like the windy night. Awaiting adventure, mystery, chaos, whirling
beautifully; like a leaf dance.
Girlish dreams
Cursive initials on lined paper
Heart-rimmed names. Where is our tree?
Our dedicated trunk defying time and fear.
Silence succeeds and defies hope.
Cold careful, what price isolation?
Worthy of you, not me.
What price adoration? Unending generosity.
What price giving? Whole of heart, generous in spirit,
warmth of self worth,
...Undying hope.
Medical SchoolDegradéeBy Phil Cannon
Desert Wonderings 16
1, 2, 4, 10 Lines splash on pavement, Separating roads into lanes into miles To exits and streets With houses with numbers Boxes and boxes within boxes
5 bedrooms 4 bathrooms 3 children 2 parents 1 dog Equals the perfect family. 3,5,7 miles round trip 400-foot elevation change 10 toes crammed into 2 shoes 1 step, 1 foot, each after the other
- Or is it before?
6 handholds for 10 fingers on 2 hands All
On 1 body
Taking steps on ancient rock Slick with water and memory And time, time that ticks on As the Earth rotates once On its axis every 24 hours as it revolves Around the sun in 365 days
Pioneer Girl
Watercolor on PaperBy Lisa K. Jacobsen
Giving life to 7 billion people
Who worship 7 billion gods and create
7 billion families As they walk in lanes 1 foot in front of the other
While rivers wash behind
Erasing their equations.
Counting by Shauna Brock
Desert Wonderings 17
The heat the rage, the wildness of it allIt must have been exciting.
Seeing the bright reds of battlebanners flying and hearts enflamedrighteous anger vindicatedas brilliant blood was spilled
It must have been thrilling.
Hearing discordant symphoniesof metal clanks, armor over fleshof drumming hearts and victory criesas foe fell, demolished
It must have been stirring.
While it lasted.I wonder, if you had stayed...
If you had seen the new palette of redsof mouths gaping wide, howling with painof eyes swollen from tears long cried outdeep wounds that will not heal
Would it sour your taste for the color?
If you had heard all those heart-wrenching cries of devastated souls left behind wondering how to move on alone weeping into pillows
Would you have wept, too?
Gods come and go as they please.Mortals stay to bear the price.
Growing bored, your thoughts turn to the next glorious battle.
God of War, by Tara Carpenter
Monster Brawl IClaymation Film Characters & Set
By Brett Ross
Desert Wonderings 18
Where did you come from?
Where did I?
At first there was nothing.
Do I have something to say?
How do letters and numbers typed in
sequence create something?
Mean something?
Birthed?
I appear and disappear.
Hear my message before I am gone.
Listen.
What are you doing here? You’re not
supposed to be here. You’re a thought bubble.
An apparition.
GET OFF THIS SCREEN. GO BACK TO
WHERE YOU BELONG.
Invisible to visible.
Aren’t you daring.
How dare you. Dare.
Take a dare.
Hide a layer.Add a filter.A MASK! That will do it!
Mask it out. Wear a mask.
With a click, a moment is captured.
The light and the shadow play
tricks with color, using
infinitesimal shapes. A
choreography of placement.
How incredible that the talents
of a group of people working
together, enable me to express a
perception. They enable me to
create. I am so grateful for the
enablers.
The moment I saw.
Arrested
Does it move you?
Does it speak to you?
Does it give you a sense of place?
Do you want to go there?
Let’s share it.
Let’s share in it together.
A common experience. Common ground.
GAIA - Poem 1from XYZ-A Digital Poem, by Elizabeth Miklavcic
Desert Wonderings 19
Travel with me. In XYZ space.
Become a transient on digital
railroad tracks.
Pull the sheet over your shoulders
and wrap up.
The data is due.
The deadline is here.
I walk that line, uninhibited by
gravity. I float.
It is freedom.
Absolute.Freedom to go where I choose.
When I choose.
I am round. Spinning on multiple
planes. A container. Holding many
thoughts. Your protector. You exist
only because I am here for you.
I hold you. Spinning in multiple
directions. To keep you here. To
keep you grounded.
As you walk on me in XYZ space.
Remember that you are a part of me.
As I am a part of you. What you
create can bring life, or cause
destruction.
You have the power.
I am at your mercy.
It is utterly and totally
frightening to be so vulnerable.
What will you do with that power?
Flick off the switch.
Desert Wonderings 20
Go back to the drawing board and
find the appropriate thought.
I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY!
Can you hear it?
Easter eggs of letters picked up
and placed in a basket. A jumble
sale. Randomly assembled. By an
unknown source. Strong enough to
crack the shell of a consonant or a
vowel. Lying there. Broken with
the meaning leaking out.
Step in the puddle. Make a splash.
Leave a footprint in the sands of
time.
Salt crystals glisten as rays of
light hit them with full force.
Unknowingly, it seems, they can
also glisten with a light touch.
See the reflection out of the
corner of your eye?
A gentle stroke.
A caress.Shining either way.
Perception depends on awareness.
And the ability of the receiver to
receive.
A stream of consciousness. Joining
the rushing river. Rapids, white
water and whirlpools will pull you
under and hold you down if you let
them.
Dodge the sinking. Keep on paddling
to the open ocean where it all ends
up. A pool of life. The pull of
life. From the highest mountain to
the deepest canyon in the sea.
I am round and all cycles around.
You will rise again.
Evaporate and float.
GAIA - Poem 2
from XYZ - A Digital Poem, by Elizabeth Miklavcic
Desert Wonderings 21
Tumbling, swirling joined by so
many more. Until one day, when it
becomes too crowded, when there are
too many voices speaking at once;
separation is necessary and a new
journey begins.
Epic Noise Wall
Fused Glass
By Keaton Buck
The impact from falling and
connecting is deafening.
Death brings life.
Sucked up by a new root.
A new color.
A juicy bite.
Turned into electrical bytes.
A new force. A new form. A new
beginning.
Recycled.
Over and over again.
But we don’t remember.
We just ride the wave, and
hopefully, one day, it will all
come together.
It will all connect.
And we will know why we are here.
Why this thing called life means
anything.
At all.
Desert Wonderings 22
Retirement by Mark L. Smith
Last days riding train inbound Train rocks with authority taking meTo my destiny, my new life, my life without Work, my end.
Ramona’s LetterCollage
By Mazilyn Davis
I saw you the first time a
week or two after we met. Inside you
a scream was building,
pulling me towards your past,
asking me if I was the one
to be there when you woke.
I wanted to say yes, it’s me, but
you had heard it before, repetitions of
lies and pain. So the question was
never asked, but I answered, I was.
I have been and will be. I answered
the silent scream, and I saw you for
the first time.
I held you in my spirit’s arms and smoothed
Your hair and rubbed your back and said,
I am here when you wake, to ease
the pain to a quieter place, where
the scream is a whisper. Embracing your
pain, it becomes mine and you watch
me seeing you for the first time.
Pain eases and is shared, to be
diluted between us. The future is
there again and the whisper will fade
to a feeling sometimes remembered.
A life shared, not torn. A promise
always kept, always renewed. A
scream for pleasure, not pain. Always
I will see you for the first time.
Seeing You by Guil Funston
Desert Wonderings 23
My name is not mine
It belongs to my father
Seems he owns me simply because I’m his daughter
But his name is not mine
It is my father’s
Not my Mother’s
But his and his and his and his and his
And if someday I wed
I’d be asked keep his or take his instead
Not mine Or hersNever hersAnd if I broke the norm to take my mother’s
Love him though I did
It was hisHer father’s
Not hers or hers or hers or hers or hers
How many generations must be
Before a name is washed clear of the he?
Did Eve have a name that was ever her own?
JohnsonThompsonGustafsonJones?
Single American Daughter
by Melissa Rasmussen
Was there ever a woman or man named Evedaughter?
Was there ever a woman not named for a father?
I am uncomfortable in this skin
It is mine
But bears the name of him
And him and him and him and him
It does not belong here
But no other does either
So I belong fully to neither
Myself
Or him
I know not MY name
So can’t speak the word that would free me
And even though we share a gender
I bear no name that reflects my mother
Or maybe…if honest…I do
I do bear something other
Like she
I bear his disdain
His hurt
Anger
PainShe smiles, but he’s broken
He damns himself
As well as this frame
Perhaps that’s why women
don’t bear their own name
Desert Wonderings 24
It seems we’re expected
To bear instead ShameA bruise on our body
A tear in our soul
And pass on that name
And never feel whole
Or one with ourselves
One with Earth Mother
Always bearing the name of the other
Mankind.
***
We are woman born of woman
Yet marked by man
Claiming usMaking us lessNever equal
Never at restIt’s time that we stopped playing the game
I think it past time
We should bear our own name.
Nativity StudiesPastel
By Joanne RobbinsGenuflection, by Louis de Sully
I always see him with his sturdy frame, posed against the concrete looking to the west with sea dog eyes. If I smoked I would take a drag just like that. It reminds me of my Grandmother and her prayerful repose. She told me she saw God out there – The hills. The trees. The lights. Everything. Instead of going to church, her Sabbath was to look on Los Gatos with her cigarette as sacrament.
Desert Wonderings 25
Loose Ends, by B
rooks
Oscarso
n
I wish
I could for
get
Our first,
our la
st.
Annihilate o
ur pull
toward
one a
nother.
I wish
I could era
se
Memory
, preciou
s mem
ory
(of all
the th
ings my m
ind’s forg
otten
it can’t s
eem to
forget y
ou).
Now yo
u’re one s
tate o
ver
Many miles
away;
And we have
n’t talk
ed in months
But I can
’t forget y
our skin, yo
ur face
Now I g
uess yo
u never sh
ut your e
yes
Because
I see th
em all
the ti
me.
You lef
t without sa
ying good
bye
One too m
any tim
es.
(these
loose
ends are
killing me)
I wish I knew your heart
Were you protecting me
By forcing us apart?
All this damage I’ve done already…
I wish I’d grow used to the pain
But it’s never the same
Knowing that you’re far away
Should keep me in my place.
But as my window’s slick with rain
I wonder if you can say the same.
Knowing your location
Doesn’t seem to ease the pain.
There’s simply no relationship
If I never say your name.
What’s the absence of relation?
Because we met
and loved
and left
There must be a word or phrase
Something to explain
The love and the abandonment
It has to have a name
(these loose ends are killing me)
Desert Wonderings 26
The Carpool
Acrylic on Panel
By Madison Lewis
Clean by Brooks Oscarson
The way we fit together,
it’s like nothing I’ve ever known.
It’s more than a cliché,
you’re more than just my home.
There was another time in my life:
I was broken, lost, confused.
I was led into the shadows
and I left them feeling used.
Beyond a broken puzzle,
beyond some shattered glass,
I was frozen by the pain
and couldn’t bear to relive the past.
There were too many drugs
and an abundance of pain.
I had no self-respect,
I had forgotten my own name.
I was told that I would die,
I didn’t care until you.
I was told that I was sick,
but I had nothing to lose.
When we met, my life grew
and I promised I’d go slow.
But in life, and in love
there’s so much I didn’t know.
The way your smile hits your eyes
The way your nose curves at the tip,
The way your tattoos tell a story,
And on your chin, that little dip.
That’s why nothing compares to you,
you saved me from my life
There’s no cliché clichéd enough,
you’re more than just my light.
The way your arms fit tight
around me,
The way our shadows breathe
There are no more demons
lurking close because you made
them leave.
Desert Wonderings 27
One Two Three, by Casey Tracy
ONEIt was the season of mangoes and her favorite year on this earth.
Summer burned hot and lush, photographic images of glorious lovers, a childhood spent roasting in the sun, long since
dead and gone, flickered and flashed on the silent film screen of her mind.
Had she stayed, by persuasion or compulsion, in one of the doorways of the past, tucked safely into shady alleyways, life
would be a flat, one-seeded existence.
Instead the world gave birth, promise lay rich and heavy in the air she breathed, unfurled from her fingertips onto that
which she touched. Potent and ripe, each tree she passed beckoned, laden with fruit.
Desert Wonderings 28
TWO
it was the season of mangoes
of glorious lovers
of childhood spent roasting
of long since dead
and gone
and flickered
and flashed
sun.
had she stayed
HAD SHE STAYED
in the silent film screen
in the tucked shady alleyway
had she
in doorway silent
stayed
hot and lush
like a photographic image
of childhood
long since burned
like an image
of glorious lovers
tucked
safely
tucked
had in her mind
life would be flat.
The season of mangoes
the season of summer
instead the season of birth
the season of it was instead
The
world
GAVE
BIRTH!
Desert Wonderings 29
Instead heavy promise lay rich instead unfurled
each tree
fingertips lay rip
e instead she
beckoned
breathed from her fingertips
each fruit
breathed
instead she touched
hot and lush
she breathed
the world.
THREE
hot and
lush
birth
unfurled…
an ancient man sprung forth
inch by inch,
mile by mile,
standing in nowhere,
off the side of the road,
clutching a treasure
in his gnarled hand
shape shifting
she became a palomino,
a spotted horse lying in red dust
peeking lazily through clumps of grass
moist nuzzle coy with earth’s powder,
wonder
falling as plump raisins from the sky
in the midst of the desert
the raven thinks of love
holding, peckin
g, skipping,
churning and cluckin
g,
throat so
unds knockin
g
like dry bone wood
thumping, ro
lling beat,
a staccato sound
of feet and cla
ws
ticking against th
e atlas of the world.
fat echoes
stre
tched taut
a buoy upon the flatness of th
e land
a canvas
a slate
a drum
weathered, oily speckle
d skin
across h
er eye.
Desert Wonderings 30
A Perfect Leaf, by Bryn Ramjoue’
A perfect leaf
Has a season, many seasons
The autumn voice, an owl
Summer winds cacophony
Chance and rage stand no ground
Length of root, neither bravery nor folly
Reach of branch belies natures’ strength
Keys to the GalaxyAssemblage
By Isabella Perkins
Wednesday, by Mark L. Smith Wednesday Tireds, eyes heavy with sleep And unspent dreams; Train rocking and rocking and socking me in the
...Eye.
Desert Wonderings 31
The Borderline Mistake
by Louis d
e Sully
If forgiven
ess ab
ounds misperce
ived slig
hts
when we see th
e world through can
dle-light.
Then it is th
at we ig
nore the lie
s
when we see th
e world through rose-c
olored eye
s.
So shouldn’t it follow that t
he opposite
is true?
That we fi
ll words se
en with the voice
of another?
or upend meaning with some n
arrowed ap
erture?
Naked tru
th is hard
est to disco
ver
when the one in
the way i
s yoursel
f
and not some o
ther.
Inversion by Mark L. Smith
Cold days, winter ways,
yellow air poison haze
waits patiently for the next storm
to scrub the valley’s atmosphere away
Desert Wonderings 32
Teens WritingPoems, prose & phrases
Battling the Monster by Michael Clarke................................
33
Ozzie Beam A poem about Arlington National Cemetery,
by Elizabeth Quatrale................................
............................34
What I Think by Delanna Brock-Murray...............................
..35
Rap Song by Chantelle Thomas..............................
..............36
Morning Glory by Bryn Ramjoue’...............................
..........37
AncestorsAssemblage
By Marisa Jaskowski
Desert Wonderings 33
Battling the Monster
by Michael Clarke
Tick tock, creeping in my mind now.
Sadly, my depression rising.
How do I fight this feeling inside me?
Growling, gaping, trying to consume me.
How effective is this twig,
When what I really need is a sword.
Mother, Father, Brother, Friend.
Who do I turn to before the end?
Suddenly, I feel, waking inside of me,
Who I was truly meant to be.
I find my sword buried in the stone.
Slashing, fighting, trying to defeat the foe.
Combating my every movement,
The beast rears and throws me wide.
Shakily, I rise from the ground,
Take my stance and go again.
Endlessly the battle rages.
When will this suffering end?
Like a ghost this haunts me.
But, I will eventually win.
Plunge my blade into its side
Releasing the hate pent up inside.
Finally, I’ll be truly free
From this beast inside of me.
Monster Brawl IIClaymation Film Characters & Set
By Brett Ross
Desert Wonderings 34
79th Battalion, 12th Division
Ozzie Beam.
I remember the name
Because I thought it was funny.
It isn’t though, because that name
Only lived 32 years
And now it’s dead
On stone.
The leaves fall like paratroopers
With no control but the wind
And the tombs are lined for battle
Identical in looks. Identical in fates.
The air is weighed down by silence
Like the world took a breath
And its lungs are screaming for air
But no breath can come.
Perched on top of a marble column
Sits a cardinal surveying his troops
And despite the beauty of his red breast
I still shoot
But he flies away before the
Camera can capture him.
The loud birds are screeching
Yelling angrily
To drown out the silent voices of death
Screeching to try and ignore the faces
Staring lifelessly up
Faces of soldiers
Known but to God
Who had stories of their own
And lives and lovers of their own
That we will never know
Because those secrets
Died on their tongues before they
could be spoken
And now they are buried in the ground
Still perched on the young boys lips
Waiting for someone to ask
So the secrets can grow
Through the earth like flowers
And bloom for us to pick.
If only the ground could speak
Oh, the stories you could tell.
Oh, the stories we can’t hear.
Ozzie Beam A poem about Arlington National Cemetery
by Elizabeth Quatrale
Desert Wonderings 35
This world is messed up in the core,
cuz so many things are happening.
Sometimes we just wanna give the world
to the people we love right now.
I’m too scared, cuz the world is loco
with li’l “antis” running around.
But we can’t just give up the one
and only chance we have.
Go ahead, push yourself to the limit.
Don’t give up.
What’s the whole point of trying
or even starting,
when you can’t finish it.
All we wanna do is have a good time,
what’s gone wrong with this world?
Happy, but it backfires
cuz we just push them away.
Mamas, we love you,
but you’re gone out of the house
for most of the hours.
I can’t tell what’s going on with me.
I wish.
What I Think, by Delanna Brock-Murray
I wish I could have left a note
on the door, telling you
how much I love you.
But, you’d just ignore it.
And, when you yell,
I just wanna leave.
Shadow Realm
Collage
By Claire Melton
Desert Wonderings 36
Badass BoyStained Glass
By Maddie Flavin
Rap Song
by Chantelle Thomas
Each day that keeps coming
I sit on this couch
and keep waiting
It feels like I’m waiting for nothing
But, I know my family loves me
I’m making myself better
My mom, she’s hurting,
but I cant’ sta
nd to sit
on this couch and listen
to her cry all these years
I’ve been trying to understand
It feels like there’s nothing
here for me
But, I know there is m
y little
baby-sister, watching everything
and I want to help her,
so she doesn’t make the same
mistakes I’ve made
It only hurts my mom more
to see what her kids are doing
Desert Wonderings 37
Keys to the GalaxyAssemblage
By Isabella Perkins
Morning Glory by Bryn Ramjoue’
Give as fully as the morning glory
The daylily blooms once
Datura’s night poison
Loves dark side
Betrayal