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h t i l o Tel
Contemporary Art and Literature 2020,Vol. 47 Seward County Community College, Liberal, Kansas The Writers and Artists represented here make careful choices to craft their creative works. Their submissions are curated to create Telolith, which is published annually for the SCCC community. We are grateful for the talent shared in this issue. With special thanks to the students from the Colvin Adult Learning Center for their color-themed poetry included throughout this issue. These poems represent their steps in learning the English Language and their engagement with creative writing.
Submitting Work - for Publication Any student at Seward County Community College enrolled during the year prior to publication of the Telolith may submit original, previously unpublished works created in the previous year for consideration for inclusion. A signed and dated data sheet is required at the time of submission. Selection of work for publication is based upon originality, quality of thought, and craftsmanship, with the objective of including works from as broad and diverse a range of the SCCC student population as space and time constraints will allow. Contact Lori Muntz or Dustin Farmer for submission information for the 2021 issue. The SCCC English Department offers a creative writing course during the fall semester. We encourage those interested in developing their writing skills to enroll in this workshop-style course. The English Department also sponsors a poetry contest and coffeehouse each spring. The SCCC Visual Art Department offers a wide range of courses in drawing, painting, photography, graphic design, ceramics, sculpture, glass blowing, and jewelry. Students enrolled in Visual Arts Department graphic design courses are responsible for the page layout and overall design concept for Telolith. The Visual Arts Department sponsors an exhibit of student work at the end of each SCCC term. The works published are written and/or created by SCCC students or in assocollege. Copyright Š by Seward County Community College, all rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form without written permission of the writer or artist.
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Colophon
Faculty Advisers:
Graphic Designers:
Special Thanks:
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In Memoriam This 47th Volume of the Telolith is dedicated to the memory of Annie Abigail Brown. This summer SCCC lost a great friend, former co-worker, student, and alum. Annie started as a student in 2001. She was passionate about Ceramics and would continue to take classes in the medium off and on for the next 18 years. She Annie was a skilled potter, a proud mother, and a caring friend. She loved life and that love for life was infectious. She was quick with a smile and a joke; she understood the importance of humor in life and how it could make a day better and change a mood. Caitlyn, at the same time my wife, Jennifer, and I were expecting our son, Holden. The similar circumstances created a connection from the start. Annie was always quick to ask how things were going and how Jennifer was. She was never one to seek out pity or complain about her own situation which is a perfect indicator of her strength and character. Annie made an impact on me from the start. I will miss her dearly as will the rest of the SCCC community. She was an amazing woman, a caring friend, an exceptionally proud mother, a grateful daughter and a promislike.� I feel for Caitlyn and Keira in that they will miss having their mother in their lives, her siblings in the loss of their sister, and for Polly, her mother, for the loss of the amazing woman she raised.
Your Friend, Dustin Farmer
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Table of Contents Literary Works
Ăąez
18
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by Kaberlin Hull
47
Artworks
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Kansas Air Amy Whitaker This August my husband and I took our 17-year-old from a feed lot I start wishing my cadence could concan be overwhelming, driving back home through Western Kansas overwhelmed my senses in an entirely different way. I delighted in the orderly rows of corn and milo, the freshly rolled bales of alfalfa, and a
Late summer brings a change of wind and a change of scent to the Kansas air. In the crisp mornings the
was literally taken away … by the unmistakable smell of the western Kansas feedlot. nitely sweet, and with an interesting touch of spice
Each morning, after taking my younger children to school and before coming to school myself, I take my
devoted to agricultural production, Kansas is the icating odor comes from something that is ripening
at this pace, but it keeps me moving. All this deep breathing gives me plenty of opportunity to sample the Southwest Kansas air. And, not being a native to
is, suddenly my morning jogs have me wishing I could
types of air here. I try to enjoy these morning jogs as much as I can while they last, because I know what is coming. I spent my childhood and early adulthood in Dallas and then Houston. While I did leave Houston to spend two years in Connecticut, that stint was followed by a year in North Carolina, three and a half years in southwest Florida, and then two and a
here four years ago is the one that bowled me over state for a year my oldest son came home in late It smells like…Kansas.” My daughter – the one
ed for cold. Consequently, the third unique type of Kansas air with which I have reluctantly become acquainted is the biting, blowing, driving-into-youlike-a-knife winter air. Robert W. Service wrote, in
picturesque pastoral view – one that could be printsniff postcard, or else the recipient might get more
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have been writing about the gold rush in the Yukon, western Kansas in January. My house here is on the very northern edge of town. With no houses to the north of me I have an unobstructed view of Nebraska from my back yard. The fantastic view comes with fantastic winds, which are also unobstructed clear dence looks like on winter days – my concentration in my nose and throat, and wondering why on earth
Because I enjoy being outside, I feel that one of the best ways to describe a location is by its air. After all, States, I would suggest that air type could even be a
https://www.kcur.org/agriculture/2012-12-12/ beef-feedlots-grapple-with-endlesswaste. ety, July 2011,
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Watermelon Flavored Sophia Marin
Sprite
Digital Illustration
Brooke Wasoski Digital Photography
What Rhymes with Orange
Osvaldo Morales
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Digital Photography
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Flowers Annette Meza Flowers you gave me Anniversaries Birthdays For no reason at all Surprises and graduations Apologies and goodbyes Roses Romance Red lipstick stains Reminiscent of the old us Summer Sundays at your house Spontaneous road trips Tulips Thunderstorms Tender kisses and picnic dates Thrilling trips to the carnival Lilies Lavender Your favorite color Like the truck you dreamed Dried up Fragile like petals Turned toxic black Bruised with emotion Wilting away, time passes You watch me go.
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Eros Calen Moore Digital Photagraphy
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Green Oleksandra Ivanova
because we have many trees:
because my mother has a big garden and she likes many
Drip Brooke Wasoski Digital Photography
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untitled Yarethzy Rayas For years I have been by your side For years I have seen you grow For years I have watched you cry For years I have been your escape Since you were but a child You would always come to me To take away your sorrowsMake you as happy and carefree as one can be You had lost your way along the road But with me, your days were limitless For I, Nature, had always been your dearest friend
Swing off from a tire swing into the cool lake on hot summer days Jump into piles of leaves or puddles on cool fall days Watching it snow on winter days Somewhere along the road, you lost your way Yet I stayed to make your days not so gray Hoping that one day What was lost would be found
Solace Calen Moore Digital Photography
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The Color Orange Saul Alonso The orange color reminds me of the Broncos team, when winter comes, and with the fall of the leaves of the trees, and the beautiful color of the orange color is also beautiful.
Burst Qaiyoom Olanlege Digital Photography
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Yellow Lupita Zapata I chose this color because it is ‌ my favorite color, Like for emotions
Natural Beauty Eh Kler Paw Digital Photography
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The Desk Debra D. Smith In the process of moving from a larger home to a small one bedroom apartment, I have had to decide what actual furnishings I need. For the bedroom, the bed and dresser are the main furnishings. In the living room, a chair, end table, and television are a necessity; with the kitchen comes a counter top bar. So, I need to decide whether I need a table and chairs or a desk for studying. I have a lot of free offers to give me a table and chairs, but I just
Kansas Sky Brooklyn Bauer Digital Photography
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Uh? Qaiyoom Olanlege Digital Photography
MOOOO! Brooke Wasoski Digital Photography
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Blue Juan Sebastian The sky is beautiful, because ‌ I can see the sun. When ‌ at the sky it makes me It makes me think I am special to live in this world.
Girl, Moon and Sun Jacqueline Rivera Acrylic on Canvas
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My Nike HYPERDUNKS Kamry Perez Being three hours away from home, there was one valuable thing that I could not leave without and that was my high school basketball shoes. Currently, I wear my high school shoes during college basketball practices. These shoes represent my senior year, individual excellence, team support, and success I achieved while wearing them. They have led me to come to play basketball at SCCC and represent taking me where I want to go. The name of the shoe
Transitioning from high school basketball to college basketball has been one of the biggest and toughest changes in my life. I went to Randall High School, played on varsity for four years, and was the playing every minute of the game to only playing a little bit was a tough pill to swallow. Sitting on the bench is tough because I know my talent and I want to contribute my skills with the team. When I get
and gets a little bit of playing time. Looking back, I miss playing high school basketball with my old teammates, being coached by my old coach, and playing in overtime games. High school basketball was great now. College basketball here at SCCC has taught me not to get discouraged, to take advantage of the time my coach puts me in the game, and to keep pursuing the game or not.
shoes because ever since my dad bought me a pair for my freshman year, I wore them throughout my years of high school basketball. My Nike Hyperdunks have good qualities about them, such as the style and how light they were. I wore these shoes through my senior season when I broke the record for points a lot of success to my team. As a team, we went further in the playoffs than in my freshman, sophomore, and junior years. I wear them in college because they showcase something positive. even when I have a bad practice or game. Someday I will give these special shoes to my kids; I will keep them always. They are worth a lot to me.
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Beginning of Heartbreaks Kaberlin Hull Knowing the feeling of heartbreak makes my body shake Knowing you know the truth
The thud when I fall to my knees
The quiet blinking from my eyes There are going to be so many good-byes The fast, steady beat of your heart
Knowing what we could have been but acting as if we were a sin Screaming at the top of my lungs Clenching down to bite my tongue
Knowing there will only be more and more while my body shakes
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Blue Isidro Estrada blue chairs blue car her blue eyes
Blue Girl Jacqueline Rivera Acrylic on Canvas
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dog gets shot W. J. Swanson
of his body. The boy was bleeding badly when his I know the moment I ease up, the man will just rip hurting anybody because he is only trying to protect me from that boy who has a quarrel with me. So, I Before any of this happened, I planned on going east with Buck and getting away from this backthe unknown of going east, we created an east in our own minds. At night, I would get all giddy explaining going so much that he would wag his tail profusely. I would tell him all about the open land free of any cage anymore. And all the other animals that would be free, too. even more sad when you both share the same I press my mouth against his ear and tell him to listen to me. I tell him that I will still go east and with me. That he is my burden and that it is my fault he is in this situation. I tell him to think of the open keep chasing them no matter what and to close his the most while I tell him all of this, is how much he When I let go of Buck, I walk to the corner happens. I sit down and lean against the house and forgotten dreams. of Mice and Men.
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El Valor de la Vida Monica Catalan Es drisfrutar de las pequeĂąas cosas que la vida nos da. Es despertar y ver las cosas con una nueva perspectiva cada dia. Es aprovechar esos instantes que traen alegria a nuestro SĂŠr, y vivir el momento como si fuera el ultimo de nuestra existencia. del camino y decir vale la pena vivir.
The Value of Life It is to enjoy the little things that life gives us is to wake up and see things with a new perspective every day is to take advantage of those moments that bring joy to our being and to live the moment as if it were the last of each day is to look at the light at the end of the to live.
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Green Santos OrdoĂąez is the color of spring, of the leaves on the trees, and grass in the rain. color green . . . in the world of nature.
WineTime Jeanne Beer Digital Photography
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Fate Sophia Marin “We should leave,” Aiden said quietly. He gently tugs on her hand, knowing full well of all the foreign emotions that Celeste must Purpose?
arriving soon.”
To make us whole again?
No Made you. Me? to Kill Memories. A farmhouse. Mother. Sister Beautiful screams. Make it stop. Creepy.
Destroy. De-
stroydestroydestroy Fix! Take it. Make it the solution. solution? Is it a thing? Place? Destroy. -
-
. What Ce-
Stop! It’s not what I want. Fate hears
one of the windows. His smile falters. Traitor! Miss you. You’re dead. Destroyed Then why are you here?
out here, ” “Who are you?” Aiden demands.
get you to do all of this!”
Here Plan? To Stop Sister. The plan begins with Celeste. The one who escaped. -
Death.
-
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man was the new kid that followed them around “Corbin?” Celeste squeaks “Not quite.” Fate smiles, one that Aiden Although Aiden had so many questions any of them. All he wanted was to leave before still had a habit of saying what was on her mind.
-
Aiden suddenly remembers that time he -
BOO! Eh Kler Paw
feel the heat from within rising. Subtly, the
Digital Photography
-
long.”
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Serenity
Jeanne Beer Digital Photography
An Autumn Road Adan (AJ) Gomez Digital Photography
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The Last Happy Day of my mother’s life Sarah Rundell Dear Uncle Frederick, I am telling you this story because you are the only one who will not judge me. Upon our previous correspondence you might be inclined to believe that I am of sound mind, and my current incarceration is a cruel joke of a higher power. I am afraid that this story will indeed destroy that image of me. I myself can hardly believe the events of this tale though I lived through a great many of them. My tale begins many years ago, on the of us, my mother, my brother, and myself, had gone out to the country to enjoy the early spring weather. We had been cooped up for months as winter held her deadly hold on our country and we were eager to escape our dreary town house and, more importantly, my father.
me long before it started speaking. And oh! until the day I breathe no more! It was like joy and sadness, love and sorrow, hope and despair, bedtime stories and nightmares all intertwined into one harmonious sound! Even describing their voice as I have cannot fully describe it! some to this day I still can not understand, and I stood there unminiding of my shivering me. Uncle, please do not ask me what I was thinking in those uncountable minutes and hours I stood there, for my mind has destroyed those thoughts. By the time the being had asked me its shivering and tiredness that had consumed
Joseph and I chased each other around the
member it was warmer than usual, and Mother had allowed me to shed my upper layers and before we had left the house, she had allowed me to forgo my heavier dress. In the years since, I have had much time to think about this event, and nearly every time, I have come to the conclusion that it was almost certainly my lack of dress that led to the events that unfolded that day. and I ran faster and freer than I had since before I started my schooling. I believe, now after the fact, that it was not a natural run that I ran, for soon after I had started I could no longer hear Joseph behind me and ful before was now much colder and darkbefore me. I could not say if this creature was man or woman, all I knew at the time was that they made me feel content and sleepy,
despite the chill that was now seeping into
to me and as it did my vision began to blur and darken. Before I lost myself completely I distinctly remember it whispering to me, “Remember what you must do child.� Forgive me Uncle for this next part I only know through others recounting it to me. I awoke in my bedroom, swathed in blankets high with fever. I had been asleep for three days and I am told that in those three days I would alternate between screaming loudly enough for our neighbors to complain of the noise, and lying so still that they feared I had passed. My next real memory after that seemed perpetually angry, how coldly she now treated the staff, how Joseph could hardly look at her without running, and how strongly she now agreed with Father. Uncle, I know Father was your brother and that you cared deeply for him, but I am afraid I can not share that sentiment. I can not say what my father was like when he
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was younger, I can only tell you of the man I grew up fearing. My father was strict and demanding, I can not recall a single instance of him displaying any kind of affection for his children, or even his own wife. I know that it is wrong to eavesdrop on others conversations, even if they are the staff, but I also know that many of the staff believed that Father had a mistress that he treated better than his own family. When Mother and Father knocked my chest that at the time I could not name, but now know to be the cold feeling of inevitability. All I could feel was that something terrible would happen if I were to lay eyes on my mother. Later that same day, Joseph came to and how worried he had been that I would leave him. Leave him with Father, and now Mother. I promised him that day, that I would never leave him with them for as long as breath was held in my lungs. You once made a similar promise, did you not Uncle? Days turned into weeks, and still I managed to avoid Mother. My strength returned to me, and soon I was able to walk without assistance, and still I did not speak to Mother. I started taking my meals in private, all in the name of protecting Joseph and staying away from Mother. Early spring turned into late summer before the tension in our house reached its tipping point. You must be wondering by now Uncle why I am telling you this. Aside from my meeting with that being, everything I have told you has become common knowledge of me. I am recounting this, dear Uncle, so that you might understand my side of that fateful night. It had been nearing midnight and I was half in the waking world, half in the world offew days, saw me without the... necessary implements with which to continue my tale.
It had been nearing midnight and I was half in the waking world, half in the world of dreams, when a loud knocking sounded at my door, startling me into the waking world. I opened my door before I had thought my actions through properly. It was Mother and Father. At that moment, something inside me snapped and I recalled one other thing the being had told me, “You have done well, child. now I make a deal. Either you or your younger brother shall take the lives of two people. If you refuse when the time comes, then Joseph shall take your place.� I knew who those two lives were Uncle, and I was determined to make sure that Joto take less than a second, for I let them into my room as if I were a gracious host welcommy door, I closed it, and locked it for good pretense and demanded to know why I had not returned to my schooling, stopped dining with them, and refused to leave my room for with the farce of answering them, and allowed the blinding all consuming rage that now sung through my veins to take control. I will not go into graphic detail of what happened next, as I know you believe ladies should never mention such gruesome things, unless it is to comment on how awful it is, and despite the blood on my hands I still wish for you to think of me as a lady. Almost as soon as the deed itself had been done, the being appeared before me once again. And though it spoke no words I could feel its surprise, almost as if it had turned to me and its surprise turned to realization. I learned then that it had believed me a boy and not a young lady. Its realization then turned to understanding. I learned that it almost never approaches young ladies, as we tend to take the more violent ways, where as young men prefer to make it as painless as possible.
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In my time in this place, I have had little else to do but think upon this creature, tions. Uncle, in my time here I have come to understand something. My grandmother and grandfather were not unluckily struck down in the prime of their lives, this creature that approached me, or one similar to it, must have once approached you or Father, and given you the same instructions. It is my belief that since you were the eldest child, that the being sought you out. Uncle Frederick, I do not know your method, nor do I particularly care. Your reasons are your own. I have written you tell my and calling for the authorities. By mid-day I had been tried and convicted of parricide. By time. I do not know when I will leave it, but I hope that when I do, you and Joseph will be waiting for me Uncle. I know I will be waiting for you‌ Love, Elise
End of the Tunnel Maggie Ibarra Digital Photography
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Freeze Frame Maggie Ibarra Digital Photography
Intense Calm Brooklyn Bauer Digital Photography
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orange Victor Lucas I like this color because . . . I can compare my mind with an orange to squeeze the juice and my mind is to take advance of knowledge to learn more about everything interesting for me.
Love in a Jar Maggie Ibarra Digital Photography
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red Jesus Quintana
purple
blue Adrian Estrada
Nelia Hernandez
I like the apples reds and bigs.
Blue color reminds me of sky, because it is a thing that I have always liked.
El color morado me gusta porque es el color favorito de mi hija.
why are beautiful.
Es un color que siempre me ha gustado porque cuando era niĂąo mi super heroe favorito vestia de color azul.
Ella tiene en su cuarto una lĂĄmpara morada, un tapete, su cobija, y cortinas. Le gusta mucho ese color.
I like the reds cars and hearts why are pretty. I like the reds roses why are beautiful too.
El mar, cuando cambia el sol su tonalidad de color cambia y eso es algo que me gusta.
Flower Power Osvaldo Morales Digital Photography
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Mexican Haute Couture Adan Gutierrez Marker and Ink
Fashion Through Time Adan Gutierrez Marker and Ink
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Relaxation Eh Kler Paw Digital Photography
Lovely Calen Moore Digital Photography
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BOY LIKE YOU Kaberlin Hull I was warned about the boys like you Everyone is being warned about you too Nobody cares who kisses who The sun will set and always lose its blue But it was those thoughts that I needed out of Even after imaging the happiness we would go through
No Hunting Brooklyn Bauer Digital Photography
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Soft Light Adan (AJ) Gomez Digital Photography
Rush
Brooke Wasoski Digital Photography
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Appreciation Duane Dunn
I enjoyed many aspects of my eleven years serving as president at SCCC and among those were the annual
unveiling events of the Telolith. In addition to the national awards received by the publication was the profound impact it made on the students and staff whose contributions were recognized in the Telolith. Perhaps much to the dismay of others, I annually placed copies of Telolith on the reception desks at the Board of about the quality of the contributions. Without the Telolith’s presence many leaders across Kansas may not have known of the talents exhibited by students attending SCCC. While I enjoyed promoting the excellence of the students it was truly the remarkable and dedicated efforts recognition of talent, encouragement of students to contribute work and receive public scrutiny results in actual delivery of the draft to the publisher, these faculty leaders truly embodied what constitutes an outstanding teacher and mentor. The impact they have made on the lives of the individuals whose work – an article, a poem, a drawing, a sculpture, an item of jewelry – is unquestionably lifelong and sustainable. Janice, and Susan consistently provided to encourage and develop lifelong talents is truly appreciated. The Telolith is a staple of SCCC and a unique aspect of the experience of the students whose work is included in its publication. Although Bill, Janice, and Susan have retired, my wish is that the Telolith remains strong and their legacy continues through its annual publication.
Janice Northerns
Susan Copas
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the Creative Writing Teacher explains love Janice Northerns
You amble into class and settle down, of plastic, I say write and you go to it, opening your bags and shaking out as much industrial grade
I want you to show me the rush of love. Snuff it up your nose and spit out the Sunday night bit your earlobe, leaving teeth marks for a week.You told your mother
no one would notice except by touch, that ragged sexiness was better than matching Speidel I.D. bracelets. Tell me
of copper creel? Zaire and Zimbabwe in a weatherless city; tell me the tropical zip code of your affection. Some Sunday night, Emily will begin nibbling again. That trash bag, still in your lap, will open up, gulp you both. Let me feel her ridged teeth goosebumping your neck. Let me hear how you conjured a thousand lies for your mother out of your ear and lapped on down. Published in Virtual Artists’ Collective, 2017
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Tornado vision Janice Northerns You never bothered to steer your way through love or the weather, just twisted down to Texas, storm speed how I had no choice, how your whirling force pulled me into the tangle of the funnel cloud. Even now, you persist in seeing every sky gone green, your rusted tongue hinged as you wait for twisters to rip you off course, set you down on new ground, everything open again.You think sweeping up pieces for us: damage control. Remember planning escape
under Deep Creek bridge, simmer in the mud, the rest of the town blowing down. Meet me halfway now under that bridge, as sirens roar. In this whirling wreckage we are the eye, through the storm. Published in Slush Pile Magazine, 2018
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Some Electric Hum Janice Northerns for William Stafford and B.H. Fairchild In barren Southwest Kansas, hardbaked edge brag on empty air, a sky stretching out these heavy layers, a dense pentimento Stafford sensed it, too, wrote of touching rock where Coronado walked, and that clanging armor Fairchild later felt the charge of weighted air poems to be opened. Shop lathes sang to him and play for me still. Some electric hum lingers here, a multiplying pulse that sets us down on the corner of Second and Main, breathing in the same rearranged molecules, just in different years. that storm clouds spill verbs in the dirt, poetry pooling underground in a space carved stanzas glide on thermals, kite tails of iambs and spondees shimmering in the heat. This space masquerading as a mute Kansas stare unfolds for me now an invitation to grab hold, grapple with words just west of the tongue. I catch the drift of remnants as they eddy and roll, at last coalescing into direction, a whisper on the wind: Published in Boomer Lit Magazine, 2017
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One alone Qaiyoom Olanlege Digital Illustration
Rosaceae Rosa Digital Illustration
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The House of 20 dorothys Bill McGlothing where twenty Dorothys vie to welcome all each checkered dress inspection-crisp. Ruby slippers they make themselves click nervously, from the lots, the coming of the pilgrims to the shrine.
for each a Dorothy, according to their need. Diet Dorothy disses lollipops, no sun-kissed smarm for this girl. Cross-Trainer Dorothy jumps and kicks her way, dispatching slackers, tin and straw. Dark Side Dorothy stacks a ramp of yellow bricks
and primps and preens to preference. Angry, Protest Dorothy who feel the lash. With poppies out of season, Substance Dorothy hands out vials of crystal meth and Bud, while Twelve-Step Dorothy cleans up after tempers thoughts of paths that lead to Wizards, and powerful Word. Empath Dorothy feels the pain of all who cross her doorstep, casts demons from the sick, their weariness and road rage melted in the waters of her tears. The travelers then turn to go, wishes granted, the sought truth found: No place like home, no place like home in all the whirling wrack and carnage of this rarely rainbowed world. Published in The Midwest Quarterly, Summer 2007
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ORNITHOLOGY Bill McGlothing
blackbirds.� I wince as he begins to read, six hard weeks of my harangues that nothing comes out right headed down the drain. But then, before my Creative Writing students again take gleeful wing upon their once inspirations, I shoot them down. And I remind them: house. Those birds were grackles. think about it.�
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Last Concert, last class Bill McGlothing Tom Petty’s last concert the Hollywood Bowl, September 25, 2017.
and died within the week. In my last class, Introduction to Literature, I told my four students, three young women and one, the non-trad, older and wiser, what they could expect on the Final-four short essays and one long. I discussed with them A Doll House. Asked them to think about how Nora would fare out there in the cold and dark, and asked them of the frozen night, knowing who was knocking.
Then I thanked them for being a good group, for sticking it out, for making their commitment to literature strong and clear. And then they left. It was a Friday. I went home at 2:00, greeted my dogs, grabbed a beer. And thought of forty years for just the time it took to pat myself on the back,
Make it last all night. Make it last a lifetime.
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Artist’s Artist’s Statement Statement I am fascinated by the richness of a natural world that goes largely unseen, or perhaps more accurately, is seen but unnoticed.The questions I pose in my work have to do with the division between ourselves and nature.We are a part of nature yet often at odds with it. My work deals with this borderline area. I work primarily in oil, and occasionally in pastel or printmaking. My formal training in art began at the University of Kansas, where I earned a BFA and MFA in painting. I have worked in visual communications, was a KAC artist in residence in Garden City for three years, and I have taught a variety of visual arts courses at Seward County Community College for twenty years. As an educator, I strive to cultivate the student’s ability to see and evaluate discerningly, to develop basic art skills, and encourage students to explore the arts as a means of self-expression and self-realization. Susan K Copas MFA
Appreciation Appreciation In the tradition of Artists making a statement pertaining to the body of their work, Susan was asked to give an artist statement for use in this publication. The insight into her views over the purpose and importance of art, education and the natural world helps the reader to understand the underlying philosophy and driving force behind her work. Susan is a regionally and nationally known artist, as well as a nationally recognised educator who has received many awards. SCCC had the awe-inspiring privilege to work beside, learn from and be mentored by her-myself, the communities of Southwestern Kansas, and the numerous students that have attended her courses included. In her phenomenal twenty-year calling as a Visual Art Educator at
Susan supervised and sponsored the creation of the Telolith for over a decade and helped it become an accomplished and respected publication. When I was handed the responsibility of continuing the production
and Janice Northerns set to make this publication an Award Winning success. Thank you Susan, Bill, and Janice.Your legacy continues. Because of your standards, compassion for your students, and your constant pursuit for excellence, we have a stable foundation to build upon and to further your and our success. Dustin Farmer MFA, MA Visual Art Instructor 10/2020
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n a s u S as Cop
Rara Avis Susan K Copas
Aquifer
Digital Illustration
Susan K Copas
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Garden Susan K Copas
Storm Front Susan K Copas Digital Illustration
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World’s Greatest Father Lois Magner With one simple act my father was immediemerged when the phenomenon of fatherhood, the ment in time, one single event and history was rewritten. The past whitewashed just as clean as Tom All he had to do was die. In his death my family saw him bathed in holy light. He suddenly became everything he should have been when he was alive, everything he could have
honors the person he truly was. Nor am I able to grasp the purpose of canonizing a man to ease the makes my grief more intense when I have to listen to a revised version of his biography. It makes me sad. Or it makes me angry. It depends on the story and which elements have been edited for the Norman Rockwell rendition. -
best to be his best and often failing. Before the last breath escaped his lungs with a heavy sigh, he was just a dad, a good one at times but at other times disconnected and sometimes disregarded. After the holy
sharp edges and shadows. But sometimes the most moving portraits are those that include light and shadow, highlights and lowlights. Have you ever looked at ally. But she is evocative; she elicits emotion. She feels real. Even black and white images are rarely without - minish the image. ably thinks that sounds a bit harsh-coldhearted even. But image isn’t everything. Is it? My father was not a perfect man. He was nevNothing could be further from the truth. I respected er shy about admitting that. He was not the quintesthe man more than most humans I know. I loved him. sential father, or grandfather for that matter. He was I still love him. But the person some of my family members him to be. He was not always the grandfather I would talk about today, well, that is not the man I knew. That have liked him to be for my kids. But he was a good man is not my father. That man is not the grandfather man. He was a good father and he loved his grandchildren. He laughed easily and was slow to anger, al- though when that particular pot boiled it was a good actly, my father. idea to get out of the way. A man of great faith and I realize that we all grieve in our own ways. humility, he was kind and funny, intelligent and deterI appreciate this to my core. There are no rules that mined. He was a man of integrity and principles. He was also stubborn and irritating, sometimes too dis- tant and not always affectionate. He was, as many of ney together, each of us must discover our own path us are, a walking contradiction. He could be so preto healing and wholeness.The need to grieve is a core dictable and yet so surprising. He loved deeply, but component of our humanity, and each person must Complex. Simple. being honest, I suppose I am a bit judgmental when The struggles he persevered through, the imit comes to glorifying the man just because he died. perfections he displayed, his shortcomings, the mis-
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takes and missteps he made throughout my lifetime
we can be compassionate and supportive, even when be especially then. We can provide comfort and kindness and allow each other to express our memories or sense of loss in whatever way it needs to be done, also acknowledging that all he could do, all any of us without judgment. Allowing each other the space of can do, is the best that we can do in that moment in our sorrow. which we are doing it. He would not feel honored by Acknowledging the need to grieve in a way that being remembered as something grander than he was. brings healing.
eyes. He’d say, “that’s not how I remember it.” But, at the end of the day, he would have been more quick to extend compassion and grace than I have been. He would have told me to listen to my own
the important thing is that we support each other as a family and that none of the trivialities mattered anyway. Even though he understood grief and mourning intimately, he would remind me that he does not want to be mourned, rather rejoice for him because impish grin, that one which conjured images of the can sing as long and loud as I want, and your mother He is not here, but he is not completely gone. And so I will listen to these words my father might have said, and I will probably listen to them better than I might have when he was alive. In my own way doing that which I have found so confusing, maklife. Maybe that is partly why some people need the that has now become unchangeable. To add details to a portrait that has dimmed with time. Photoshop for the soul.
Thorns and Petals Maggie Ibarra Digital Photography
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Brooklyn Bauer Digital Photography
Lantern Jose Romero Digital Photography
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Dad
Kaberlin Hull I cannot tell you how many tears I have cried Since the day i was told My best friend, my dad, has died Lord, tell him I love and miss him And when he turns to smile Allow him to see me And hold me for awhile Remembering him is effortless i do it every day That will never go away But within me, he is living Throughout my heart he has touched And he was loved, oh so very much
Tulip Calen Moore Digital Photography
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Untitled W. J. Swanson
illness, your husband pushed you away and now you will push Suzy away with your new illness. For a the ceiling at all but abstract pieces that once made up a ceiling. I felt ashamed of the whole matter and but a woman who is trying to piece her life together. She will leave soon and then you will have nothing. Not the social life your husband provided. Not the family your daughter grants you. Then you would truly be better off dead. I held my breath when Suzy got home and waited for her to come up the stairs.
I came home and rushed up the stairs to check on mom. I checked down the hall and saw half of her in the bathroom and the other half sprawled out in the hall. Since dad left, she told me she and studied her face and her eyes for a moment. Her front of her. Like she no longer recognized her own daughter. Soon, she started to vomit. I grabbed an placing it in her lap. I stayed up all night with her and watched my mother slowly piece herself back together.
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Christmas Dinner Brenda Nguyen What do you imagine when someone says, you imagine how big their family is or what food
impact on movies, books, and friends made me quesing multicultural when I was younger, I would always
will be having. I always think about how they will be having a roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet poI have for Christmas dinner. I am Vietnamese and our traditions are nothing like that. Today, I will be talking about my traditions, how they used to affect me, and
that I was half white and could speak Spanish. Would
the person I am today.
different meal for Christmas dinner because I just wanted to be like them. I wanted them to stop criticizing me.
I am so proud of my Vietnamese heritage. The words can not explain how hardworking that my parents are to provide for my sisters and I. Family is so important to me that is why I take family gathoften like we used to. Everyone has already moved
Being criticized has made me a stronger person. Words cannot describe how proud I am of my culture. I am proud to be different. My parents struggle to provide us with what we need and want. My parents paid for every single one of my sisters, working in factories for the rest of our lives like they did. My parents are probably the most hardworking people that you will ever meet. I now appreciate every ounce that they have taught me for the last 18 years of my life. I probably never saw it then but I sure as heck appreciate it now. This is why I am
everyone to come home. I love when my family is together, we are rowdy and rambunctious, just like by Amy Tan was the exact same dinner that we would have. We had a little more food like egg rolls and fried rice. As we got older, we suggested to my and that I will cook it. We added another tradition to the family where every year I cook Thanksgiving dinner and we have our traditional food for Christmas dinner. It worked out well and it stuck. The reason why I love the holidays is because I get to see my sisters and the house is full again. When I was little, I was so jealous of other kids eating turkey for Christmas dinner because I never had a dinner like that.You can say that I was bored and tired of constantly eating Vietnamese food for a holiday when we already eat it daily. I would beg my parents to do something different but they
her food everyday and our long, late night talks. I need my dad because what if my car's engine light daughter time. All I can say is that I am so thankful for being raised by my parents. In conclusion, I have talked about my traditions, how they used to affect me and how they okay to be different. I have learned what happens in the past will only make me stronger and more appreand how I was raised.
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Memento Mori Adan (AJ) Gomez Digital Photography
Black and White Chair Calen Moore Digital Photography
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Blue Feelings Juan Herrera Garcia Blue nostalgic, beautiful memories from my childhood under the clear sky of my hometown.
while she wears her blue and white
anxious to see her defend the colors of the Lady Dogs. motivating him to enter the court with his Bulldog team. Blue forever, for having been part of the colors of my Alma Mater – Chapingo – blue and silver.
Mixed Feelings Qaiyoom Olanlege Digital Photography
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Stop Right There! Eric Mayorga Digital Photography
Straight Qaiyoom Olanlege Digital Photography
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THE RING Veronica Olds I remember that day very clearly … I was in Algebra class taking a very important exam. Algebra is not my favorite and it does not like me. I happen
that, I will always be thankful. Like me, my ring has gone through changes. It has gone through some upgrades and reconstructions but at the end of the day,
Everything changed in an instant. At that moment,
make me happy. The man who accepted me for all I believe in myself at times. The man who gave me the
been holding dear to me for the past 17 years is now nowhere to be found. I remember holding back the tears as I frantically searched for it all over campus. After searching everywhere without much luck, I broke down. My heart was broken … and I was devastated. It was in May of 2002 when I married the love of my life. That ring did not come easy to me more than a piece of jewelry that I can show off. That ring is the symbol of everything I have always hoped for. It meant having my other half, my own person. It's the symbol of dreams that are meant to be shared, trials to overcome and blessings to cherish and be thankful for now and forever until the day we die. coming to reality. And after all that, I lost it in a blink walking around like a crazy person all over campus. er prayed before. I went back to the library after I remembered how I sat there for awhile to study for my Algebra exam. And there it was, underneath the table I was sitting at hours before – there was the
Colors of Love Eh Kler Paw
the love that I was looking for. The love that I will always treasure for the rest of my life. The love that taught me how to be the best version of myself. It was the love that made the ring possible and for all
Digital Photography
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Juxta-Spot Adan (AJ) Gomez Digital Photography
Eye See Qaiyoom Olanlege Digital Photography
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LOCKS Qaiyoom Olanlege Digital Photography
Snake and Skull Eric Mayorga Digital Photography
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Inside My Mind Aaliyah Ridder Inside my mind there are thoughts that seems to pace back and forth The unlit corners of my mind is where some of my thoughts tend to wander from time to time Those places are dim and often times forgotten about My thoughts and memories sit on shelves and collect dust But my mind never forgets to dust over them Sometimes there are dust bunnies inches thick But other times my mind remembers to dust every day Because her favorite thoughts to dust are always the ones I hate the most
Good Photo Brooklynn Bauer Digital Photography
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A Letter from a schizophrenic Ulises Lopez Dear Mr. Deene
-
I am telling you this because you are the only person I know ignore it. the beginning.
-
-
-
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-
my imagination nothing on this
-
like that.
the bulbs upstairs are gone now. lights on.
is it breathing. I want this
ery bulb shatters in the rooms
-
that its making the lights go out. nearly an hour. I was moments
me. It must be all the lights I must be it.
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ing. I think it knows what
-
not take me while I still breathe. -
Small but Big Eh Kler Paw Digital Photography
again. Please
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N1-k0 Sophia Marin It was raining when Jacklyn found it. She had left a convenient store of the nearest food district by her two-bedroom apartment that she and her roommate,Yazmine, share. It was nothing fancy; just some take out sushi and a koupou fruit before hopping on the bus. But upon getting off, there was
blanket toward herself and unpin the blanket. She climbs back down and wraps the android with it nobody will miss it since the droid was literally in the trash, but she would have to remember to bring the blanket back later. That is‌ if she could remember.
popular since the Newcomers came to Earth. Jacklyn likes to avoid people as much as possible, so she took the alleyway that cuts into the next street. Walking past a garbage bot, Jacklyn notices something sticking out of garbage bags. She watches as the bot picks up the bags on top and Jacklyn realizes someone had through out an android. A child android. When the bot grabs a leg, Jacklyn
on her desk chair before tossing her dinner and her things on her bed. Just as she reopens the head panel,Yazmine walks into her room talking on her viscreen.
its semi-auto tune voice.
back at Jacklyn. The garbage bot lets go and returns to its main priority. The remaining garbage that was littering the alley. Jacklyn sighs in relief and lays the android on the concrete ground. It is an old model of an android in perfect condition. But Jacklyn knew that there is no such thing as perfect. Jacklyn lifts the android in a sitting position so she can open the head panel. Jacklyn sighs at the sight before her. The panel behind the head was body to move, but the entire compartment is fried except for the Power Core. That part is missing. forcibly remove the core and fried the entire brain in the process. Jacklyn holds out her left wrist and does a quick scan of the droid with her vi-screen. Everything outside was left in good condition despite the recent Jacklyn scratches her head when she looks up to see a blanket hanging on a clothesline two
usually a good sign. Jacklyn manages to quickly take her shoes off without falling over, which is an accomplishment on its own considering she bears the weight of a machine on her back. She then walks down the narrow hall that was the entrance before going into
from the head of the android.
have legs.� crosses her arms over her chest in defense. Jacklyn picks up a pair of plyers and begins to pull being careful, an expose wire manages to shock her making her pull back. She curses under her breath as she waves her hand in the air. Yazmine sighs and walks into the kitchen to get some ice. She then returns to the room and
more than willing to give you one of their newest models considering that you are a survivor of the
escape. From there she pulls the line to bring the
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Camps.” Jacklyn returns to the android and pulls out the but a Power Core works with the repair parts. Jacklyn watches her vi-screen for three sections to light up green. She holds her breath as she waits for the third to light up, but it lights up red.
memory core is supposed to be shining a blue light the Newcomers or did you forget what they did to
she recently acquired at the Yard across the room, and it shatters against the wall. Jacklyn releases her hair from its ponytail and tosses the goggles on the bed before storming into the kitchen.Yazmine sits at the small table next to the window, drinking a cup of coffee, but Jacklyn
Yazmine sighs and places her cybernetic Jacklyn spins the chair around and presses two buttons just below the collar pipe on the chest plate. The chest opens, revealing the inner parts that are model off the remaining humans. The Heart
for the fridge and takes out the last bottle of melon cider, not even bothering to pour it into a glass. your melon cider and frustration if you want it.” Yazmine says. Jacklyn gasps for air as she sits the bottle on looking at her. going to forget to take of yourself. So, tell me what to do that I can help with.” parts from newer models.” something.” Jacklyn pulled up her vi-screen and swipes Yazmine sits in silence for a moment before normal android from Intech runs and the one on the left is Niko.” Wires. Needles. Monitors. Screams. Jacklyn squeezes out to reach for the voice box. After a long moment of silence between them,Yazmine leaves to her room to begin her part of the project for the little android. Jacklyn quickly pulls up her vi-screen and taps in four digits: N1-k0. From there on, it is nonstop working and
a power core that can keep up. The problem is the only place that has them is…” Jacklyn leans against the counter, thinks
her vacation time from work, weekends, holidays, and
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coming so close to making an imperfect version of
gen three, I only got this small container left.” counter and pulls out a small container. He rolls back
hated both options. Jacklyn groans and hits the counter with her
says it is a small container, but he forgets to mention that they were all cracked making them useless. Jacklyn glances up at him as she holds one of the cracked cores in her hand. He shifts in his chair from
out how to make a functioning android without the parts.”
the Newcomers would reinforce them by now
you are a genius.” Jacklyn quickly ran into her room to grab a jacket and her baseball cap before running to the front door to put her shoes on.
Jacklyn tosses the core back into the container.
calls after her.
makes it a hobby of his.” of these on an android will fry the entire brain.”
think about it sooner. Jacklyn hops onto the next hover train and rides it all the way to the south part of the city. bots and androids alike. The store is like a miniature version of a supply store and it has everything pertaining to old models and Jacklyn hopes that this place has what she needs. sectioned by the type of model a customer is looking for. Jacklyn looks for the gen three parts and found everything but Power Cores. There was a container missing, so Jacklyn waltzes up to the front counter to disturb the shop owner. There is a man sitting behind the counter with his vi-screen open to various grid pages, eating a bowl of arcane rice and jelly. Jacklyn waves her hand in the air, moving the vi-screens out of view.
around the counter. allowed back here.” Jacklyn gives him a smile and places a hand
your shop rips its customers off.” mouthful of rice. arm and walks past him to the back. Jacklyn raises an eyebrow not amused by the nickname. Jacklyn holds up her hands before slipping
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her a sideways glance before pulling out a set of keys and unlocking the door leading the storage room. The storage room is basically a garage, but knowing best parts for himself. The room also serves as a mechanic shop for taking apart androids that are sold or abandon. In fact, in the disassembly chamber in the far corner, has an android already hooked up. make small talk. Jacklyn stops at a work bench to the right. Blueprints for gen one and two model androids hang all over the wall and across the desk. warns from some crates on the opposite side of the room. He holds up an android arm in his hand and points at her with it as if it was an extension of his body.
for more.” Jacklyn ignores his comment as she pulls the
Jacklyn leaves before he gets a word out. # Waiting for the people on the train to get on and off from every stop from the store to the stop near her apartment is the most painful and tortuous experience she had to endure. It was like waiting in line for the next vi-scanner to come out and she knew how painful that is alone. runs to her bedroom and shuts the door and her only window. Realizing that Yazmine was in the living room upset, Jacklyn made a mental note to check up on her after she starts up the android. Jacklyn opens her vi-scanner and runs the diagnostic test once more before pulling out the Power Core and inserting it in the head. Jacklyn
up and down like a chicken, but she moves from the bench. these parts come from the Yard. I scavenge what I can, bring them here, and then resell them.”
would take the new Core. All three sections of the Jacklyn presses the waking sequence and watches the grid strips slowly light up throughout the body from head to toe. A small chime comes
to the android that was connected to the machine.
chance to examine it yet.” and holds out her wrist for a scan of the android.
She rolls her eyes, ignoring his warning. completely… different from the other droids that
creds should do it.” credit account and sends the units before working the disassembly machine to pull the core out herself.
Let There Be Light Osvaldo Morales Digital Photography
known how badly you needed it, I would have asked
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Green Alector Lozano I like it because I close my eyes and . . . ...They are memories of my loving mother,
my room painted this color. ...it is nature I see great animals living in a pack. I think of the dew of a forest, with tall trees, the cool hug of its breeze, and the incessant bustle from inside alive. ...They are feelings
Indecipherable and incomprehensible, but deep and pleasant, feelings of attachment, for the color, ยก
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Monument Calen Moore Digital Photography
Bubbles Sophia Marin Watercolor on Paper
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Dreaming Annette Meza Death unfathomable perplexing mystifying With your absence began mine time passes by im absent Dissociative a year goes by without a doubt the pain is there Photographs are left memories of you reside some days i dream always bittersweet never otherwise
Untitled Adan (AJ) Gomez Digital Photography
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Minotaur Eric Mayorga Pen and Ink on Bristol
Swirl Qaiyoom Olanlege Digital Photography
CatsPocoKing Brooklynn Bauer Digital Photography
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Beautiful Sonata Dulce Perez Acrylic on Canvas
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Beautiful Sonata Dulce Perez
struggling to comprehend her, and I did not like when being together, it began to make sense; she was the most precious thing ever given to me. My violin… so brown, harmonious, and rich in tone. When I play, I fantasize about where I want to be. I dream about a great, big audience behind me while I wave my arms up and down, conducting my orchestra. My knowledge and skills being passed down to the instrumentalists in front of me who are desperate to my dream by the sounds of crashing cymbals. In my hand, I hold a triangle. I can hear the drum beside me sizzle from how loud the band is, and I could not be more miserable than this.
In the second week of school, things started to feel good. The band plays great and I have gotten the hand of several instruments in the percussion section. I arrive early and have my music in order to show my dedication. As I am practicing my counting on a jazz song, a trombone player approaches me. I
only percussionist that gets here early when there is starts to play.” I stared at him with a straight face, and I did not respond. As he walked away, I did not feel hatred, but I had so many questions. As the band was doing their scales, I look at
Liberal…a town that is not only small but home and where I have planned to study to become an orchestra music teacher. I was lucky enough to have moved to what might be the second college in Kansas to not have an orchestra program. I tried to keep calm and look at the bright side of things. I realized that I have been given the chance of learning something new. Sadly, it seems like the only thing I have learned so far is how to properly hold may consider: an outsider. My classmates seemed to be aware that I was never in a band, and most importantly, am a violinist. I was sarcastically asked a few times if I was going to play my violin in band. I could not help but think that I did not belong there. home to my ridiculously small and overpriced studio apartment; as I entered, I could see my violin just peeking from under my bed. Though I craved its tone and tranquility, I felt as if I betrayed it. My thoughts overwhelmed me with anxiety and overthinking. I kept remembering how my classmates set me aside in music theory, and when I would answer a question right, I received looks of disdain. I set it all aside and told myself it will get better as time goes by.
beside another violinist, leading the orchestra, and hearing all of us combine into one sweet symphony. In high school I would receive compliments on how I played in the orchestra; but in college band I am just a lousy percussionist hidden…in the back. I just wish someone, or something would help me. I arrived home that day after band rehearsal and just wanted to rest. I was walking towards my around, and I see that my violin case was still sticking out from under my bed. I curiously pull it out and place it on top of my bed. I unzip the case, revealing all the dust sitting on top of my violin, and I gently wipe it off with a rag. Then I pluck the strings to see if it is still in tune–it sounded perfect. As I was turning it in different angles, checking for other shambles, I see inside the sound holes and discover Sonata, 2010” is what the label read. With a joyous smile, I rosin my bow and play one of my favorite concertos by Antonio Vivaldi, an Italian me and every tone. My eyes are closed, and I feel an
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Telolith 2020
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