The Chronicle | Fall 2020

MMXX

THE CHRONICLE fall 2020

THE CHRONICLE MMXX

STAFF senior staff Editor-in-Chief Managing Editor Literary Editor Art Editor Copy Editor Layout Editor & Webmaster Social/Promotional Director

Elizabeth Marvin Caroline Morales Hannah Skinner Nicole Ammerall Abigail Johnson Allison Killinger Kelly Evans

general staff Gil Altman Erik Antonio Acacia Bryant Xavier Charlot Maille Gray Manning Holmes Holly Hower Katherine Kaczmarski Heather Motro Alana Revels Madison Wakefield

Covers by Nicole Ammerall

FROM THE EDITOR It would be an understatement to say that this has been a strange semester, or even a strange year. We have had to entirely redefine what it means to be a student. We have been told to stay away from each other instead of coming together and meeting new people, but our workload and academic responsibilities only continue to grow. This has created a need for the world to kick itself into high gear and produce more online products and ways to connect with each other. That is why the Chronicle and everyone working on it have spent countless hours and days producing a magazine that would reach as many people as possible.

We wanted to emphasize each other’s safety and well-being by having almost all communication be online, but there were some things that were difficult to hold on to, and we had to cover for that as well. We tried to do our best to bring people together even though some of us are very far apart. We wanted to create a support system where students didn’t have to worry about academics or pandemics and could instead all come together to create something more than just a magazine.

These pandemics don’t just include Covid-19, many people today are experiencing a pandemic of racism and inequality that tries to control us and take away who we are. So many people have been hurt and killed in this time, and for some of us, there is little we can do but continue to support and work towards something better.

The theme for the magazine this semester was focused on mysticism, tarot, and the universe around us. In a way, this was a theme that could emphasize our togetherness even when we are apart. We are all in the same universe and we have the power to manipulate the energies around us by working with each other and reaching out when we need it. The world is a complex and difficult place, but it doesn’t have to be so terrifying if we know we can reach out and have someone waiting to grab our hands when we need it.

Know that the Chronicle will always be there to reach out.

TABLE OF CONTENTS Dreaming and Drowning 1 A Letter in a Bottle 2 Cosmic Conversation 3 Did Coppélia Ask for Life?

4 Ember 5 A Light to Ponder 6 Plausible 7 A Simple Melody 8 Adulthood 9 Rocky Road 10 April’s Creation 11 I Know You 12 Holding Youth 13 Prosthesis 14 Fishes 15 Retrospect’s Beauty 16 Fool for You 17 She is Beauty She is Grace 18 Speculum 808 19 Ignition 21 My July 22 Timeless 23 Nature Smiles 24 Between the Raindrops 25 Body Image 26 Pond Life 27 Child of the Universe 28 Botanical 29 The Small Things 30 Lovers 31 Gravity 32

TABLE OF CONTENTS Bugs 33 Little Lady 34 Fall in Blue Ridge (On The Edge Of Stormclouds) 35 Angel’s Landing 36 White World 37 In the Garden 38 Curiosity 39 In Pelican Beak 40 New Mexico 41 Lizard 42 Merciful Stars 43 Persephone 44 A Trio of Haikus 45 City Lights 46 Valley of Desolation 47 Legend Has It 48 Reclamation 49 Cyclical 50 The Prance of Sudden Temper 51 Combustion 52 Eternal Sentinal 53 Sonnet 5 54 Le Lion 55 Martyrdom 56 What a Superhero Movie Should Be 57 Chaos Bringer.

59 When Heads Roll 60 The Golem 61 The Last of the Kings 62 Blaze 63 Split in Two 64

DREAMING AND DROWNING sydney lykins

1

A LETTER IN A BOTTLE melina wallace

I wrote a love poem to myself. Wrapped it tight, tied with a lavender string.

Placed it in a bottle with some dried wisteria blooms. Pressed a kiss to the glass. I set myself free: Subconsciously waves turned into gulping ripples. Soothing and smoothing my edges.

Hoping the fingertips of my waves could bring to the surface the miraculous joys of deep excavations: Revealing whole conch shells and ceriths.

Revealing smooth sand dollars and spotted slipper snails. Revealing the beauty of the silent sea. breathing in and out,

Low and high tide,

Drifting closer and farther

from me.

Me, whom washed upon sea shore whole: An absolute oceanic beauty whom I am marveling at and collected in my arms like another shell. Camping where the earth falls apart. Making fire in order to warm my heart. Whispering I loves to myself in the dark against the sounds of crashing waves. Slowly, starting to fall in love with the sea again.

Still holding me. breathing in and out,

Low and high tide,

Drifting closer and farther

from me.

2

COSMIC CONVERSATION katherine kaczmarski

Unwind your heart tangled with questions Spill forth its ink unto the earth, then bathe it in moonlight to feel your veins murmur with life Unwind you heart Each doubt a strand Let its tendrils spiral into the midnight sky, then peel away your warm wax skin to find your star-speckled spirit.

3

DID COPPÉLIA ASK FOR LIFE? kelly evans

4

EMBER

timothy endredi

5

A LIGHT TO PONDER anthony jones

The mind is like a candle.

It harbors a low and vigilant flame, That burns at a slow and diligent pace.

It cradles heat through wicked frays, To spawn itself more layers to lay.

It sparks anew when others join, And hearkens to a peaceful void.

It tempts the night with a fiery sway, Yet leaves all sight the following day.

The mind is like a candle— And love, its ever-flame.

6

PLAUSIBLE

carson colenbaugh Balding professor, I heard him behind whispers of trumpet burps down linoleum hall. He said

“I think it’ll be good — it could be good — right now it’s beautifully plausible.”

Into the brine, the slush and weed, into the rapping, foaming mouth. Let water drip where droplets fall.

In dream (and so far staying in dream) your body was a pearly oyster shell —

I vision blueberries and the thought of you pinching from the stem and the syrup drips down your bleached and chilly scales.

Beautifully plausible,

cancerous pearls hidden in your chest and the tendril passion of the heart.

7

A SIMPLE MELODY melina wallace

Setting down my cup of tea, I can finally admit, I have no idea what I’m doing.

The almost silent vibrations of my voice fills the room.

I’m entranced in haze of dim golden light That’s how I find myself sitting at the piano.

My fingers, strangers to the wooden keys Tumbling and stumbling, dragging their heels, causing shricks!

My eyes squeeze shut as laughter bursts past my lips It’s worse than I thought.

Yet, the laughter in my lungs encourages an encore Setting a new rhythm to the pace of my heart.

Releasing a shaky gust of breath Inspiration comes from the depths of my mind; Landing on little bird who sang a song outside my window at midnight.

My fingers begin causing waves: Forming a body of music much like that of an isolated lake; That no one intentionally comes to but once there It’s a delightful escape.

8

ADULTHOOD whitney edgerly

A payment forgotten, an item returned I sit back and watch as the autumn leaves burn With colors of red, ashes of white It makes me remember my previous life When I’d climb up the staircase or run down the halls Throw lavish parties and imaginary balls Live in tall castles and be their one shining knight, Falling on the beach or flying a kite Watch as the wind brought in dark autumn rains See the sun set through my glass window pane, And even though most days I don’t feel the same I remember my childhood with a smile on my face Because adulthood taught me that cash credit cards Or houses in the Hamptons or bright shiny cars Will never be able to take you as far As a smile from a friend or a trip to the stars So I’ll work my day job, get my degree Find a new apartment and spend that money Because I know that somewhere deep down inside of me, There’s a place I can always return to rent-free.

9

ROCKY ROAD

gavin hunt

10

APRIL’S CREATION olivia solverson

11

I KNOW YOU hannah skinner

ÂżMe conoces?

Do you really know me?

I think I know you when we lay here And I feel your heart beat increase as the clouds pass Feeling a small sweat in the interlacing of our fingers I start to shiver in the thoughts of our past Te conozco I do

12

HOLDING YOUTH lauren neisser

Such an effortless task Holding youth.

Like water percolates through grounds; Expected so, A natural undertaking.

Bricks designed to enclose: Uniform and ordered are they, They who listen But shall never want to hear.

I finally recognize my own thoughts; Distilled and warm.

Complexity is solace To one inside transparent walls And beneath absent ceilings.

One mind is an influence As shelter grows to myth And independence becomes method At fresh nightfall.

Will I see you there, Satisfying a chronic pull In dense mist And dampened wood.

Or will your harbor Be forged in what exists yet Rather than seeking abstraction anew.

13

PROSTHESIS aidan rhoades

14

15

RETROSPECT’S BEAUTY kapreece dorrah

I’m reminded of my youth. When the sun only existed in the corner of my page. Reminded of when I learned what boundaries meant. Armed to the snaggle tooth with crayons crossing borders. To be young and naive. The air so crisp. Parachuting off swings. Bloody lips. Those young moments tattooed somewhere on my spirit. Scars somewhere on my body. Searching for the bliss somewhere in the ignorance. Searching for the discord among the accord.

I’m reminded of my youth. When the Moon was always new. When I learned what no man’s land meant. When there were chinks in my armor. To be young and bold. The air so frigid. Shattered mirrors. Those images branded upon my navy soul. Searching for innocence among the wastelands. Searching for the reprieve to breathe.

I wonder what Milton would think of this Paradise Lost.

FISHES

melanie tompkins

16

FOOL FOR YOU caroline morales

I am not your soulmate The love of your life Your treasure, your flower I will not be a fool for you A child for you I will not be less for you Weaker for you I am not anything for you at all I am the Converse in the back of my car The curls in my hair and the spring in my step The songs I am learning to play The poems I am writing The life I am building piece by piece From the wreckage that being “for you� left me I am the books lining my shelves Lavender bubble baths and too many pillows Christmas lights and flickering candles Glasses of wine and walks in the rain I am the strength of every woman I have known And on their lives and deaths I promise I will never be a fool for you or anyone else again

SHE IS BEAUTY SHE IS GRACE 17

sydney lykins

18

SPECULUM 808 kapreece dorrah

Will I only amount to my shadows?

Will my light never surpass the toll of those hidden battles?

Double agent vile vices masquerading as coping devices, Looking into the mirror wanting an introduction to the man behind the iris. I tried translating my feelings yet felt as if it were hieroglyphs on some forgotten cursed papyrus, I wonder what mask I’ll wear today as I let the pendulum sway, For I’m forlorn somewhere in the centrifuge, Swimming among-the-sirens that I can’t refuse, Regurgitating the navy water and advice I should use, A man full of cunning yet full of its misuse I will not allow my shades to be in control of any noose.

19

Pain is the excuse But I I know the truth.

I cannot wait for my stars to align For mortal flesh ages the opposite of sweet crimson wine, So from the desolate depths, I must pull myself before it is my time.

20

IGNITION

timothy endredi

21

MY JULY ashlyn bishop

Soft-nosed man, eyes beaming a blue-grey hue, stitched together from elbows of hooligans—he a hooligan himself—asked me, Why aren’t you over me?

Simplicity in a thought of estranged fabric, cutting freckled skin as sandpaper, smoothing a wrinkled dress—these are the fashion staples nowadays, no?—and it occurred to me in that instance that the five words—six, one a contraction—followed by an angry raise of tone: there is a firework exploding in its tube, unable to wait to grow to learn to change—to be changed—its impatience bubbling in its hollow—consequently the hollow it makes unhollow—no longer rising into the sky with its brothers and sisters who entangle one another under the waning moon; it skims the surface, a bottom feeder to the glow. My heavy blistered nose turned to him, and my lips spewed, Because I am an unsteady firework, and you are the tightened tube.

22

TIMELESS hunter staiger

I am a giant, watching an ocean with tides smaller than my finger flow from high to low almost faster than I can see.

I see an infinite plane, dwarfing me with its contrasts.

Its stark blues and blacks making the varied ingredients in the concoction of my Self impossibly bland by contrast.

A bug subsists on the dirt I carry, living a private life I will never be able to interpret.

And through it all, my companions float through gravity, lenses of consciousness capturing the world together.

It is time to go And although my mind may forget you, my soul is forever changed, your imprint a small paw mark on my scalp.

23

NATURE SMILES olivia solverson

24

BETWEEN THE RAINDROPS lauren neisser

From sea salt and cranberry chutney My life begins to brew, Dancing between the raindrops Coaxing the wind to come a little closer So the gusts might be stronger, And I can move about at the will of another But move free nevertheless.

It is in the liminal spaces Like the middle of a breath Or the moment right before a wick catches flame That my life exists, And if I stop to acknowledge a meaningful moment I’m afraid I won’t catch one Because they come just as they go, Brief and vivid Yet not worth a pause for observation

BODY IMAGE 25

melanie tompkins

26

POND LIFE morgan barnhart

27

CHILD OF THE UNIVERSE katherine kaczmarski

Do not despair, O moonlit child, Though the world is often cruel and wild You are loving, you are strong, For in your soul there is a song A song sung by every mountain and tree, Echoing on the wing of lofty birds and humble bees: “The stars above will be your home, So do not fear… for you are never alone.”

28

BOTANICAL melina wallace

I stare at my own forget-me-nots my jittering thumbs brushing dew droplets out from behind soft blue petals embracing each one gently whispering, “It’s okay to cry.”

Hushing and soothing them against melodies of clicking and clacking glass chimes (an imperfect ode) a genuine sentiment.

Joined by the cords of a fountain’s dripping that streams into an ocean encased by white cement.

A statue of a woman stares on at me from behind a series of wisteria trees.

She yearns to move her cemented toes and fingers, to drop down from her pedestal and cradle me, to whisper, “It’s okay to cry.”

By the time I leave my hands are soaked; I’ll blame it on tending to my forget-me-nots.

But, noticing the cemented woman behind the wisteria trees I swear, I saw her smile at me.

29

THE SMALL THINGS olivia solverson

30

LOVERS

ashlyn bishop

31

GRAVITY lauren neisser

And in the midst of my life, I hope you come back And wreck it all again, So we can start fresh Like the dew at our spot.

And we can dance between the raindrops Until gravity either draws us home Or releases us to the sky, Forever stuck in what is liminal In good company and unfocused.

32

BUGS

hunter staiger I was going to write about something different.

My hand was already in motion, prepared to write down yet another exceedingly broody line.

Then an ant bit me.

What ant rule did I break?

Was I emitting too much CO2?

Did my clothes reek of attack pheromones?

Maybe the tapping of my feet as I absentmindedly glanced at the stadium from my park bench translated to “Your antennae aren’t symmetrical”, a grave offense in Ant culture.

Regardless, I wonder what that ant is up to now.

I doubt they’ve noticed how strange things have been lately.

They’re probably just going to go home to their Ant family after a long day of Ant work.

I highly doubt there will be any mention of bigoted leaders, prejudiced governments, or a global pandemic.

They are Ants, after all.

In fact, despite their random Ant-agonism of (hopefully) innocent bystanders, They seem to have much more figured out than people do.

It’s probably the antennae.

33

LITTLE LADY morgan barnhart

34

FALL IN BLUE RIDGE (ON THE EDGE OF STORMCLOUDS) carson colenbaugh

Turning and turning —

down the river a salamander and old fisherman getting their feet wet and cold.

There’s mist in the hills now, clouds sinking through the cliffs and valleys.

It’s much darker than it used to be but even in the shadows the leaves are still green.

The old men are still here and so am I —

raising my hood for the forthcoming rain and lacing my boots so as to never stumble.

I might walk these woods forever, witching water from the mountain soil or drinking from the trickling cliffs —

building a fire and sitting in the dark until sunrise.

The light I lasso, the great love I raise

for you.

35

ANGEL’S LANDING melanie tompkins

36

WHITE WORLD caroline walpole

I stand in a wet cascade.

A shield of warmth around me, In a world of pure white.

I forget.

Forget about everything I must face outside.

I just stand there, Allowing the droplets to hold me for a brief moment.

But then, I step back, The water ceases, The veil is pulled back, And I must step back into the cold reality of life.

I remember my worries, my fears, my thoughts, That for a moment were alleviated.

No more warmth, No more shield, No more curtain between me and reality, No more white world.

Goodbye white world, I’ll see you tomorrow.

37

IN THE GARDEN

morgan barnhart

38

CURIOSITY olivia solverson

39

IN PELICAN BEAK carson colenbaugh

A liter of seawater holds a billion bacteria —

I learned this on the chair feeling April breeze bite my cheeks as seabirds exploded into the open ocean.

A pelican mouth holds eleven liters, which is eleven billion bacteria tucked deep in the folds of its saline gullet that wobbles, gobbles mackerel should her aim be true.

A pelican holds universes between its raspy teeth —

shits eternities.

40

41

LIZARD

caroline morales I am lying in the sun Surrounded by books I don’t care to read Full of stories I am too tired to write.

There’s a breeze, that’s full of dust and smellsThe cut grass and the sound of Grandpa Driving his mower behind the house A premature cricket sings though the sun is high There are no clouds, no birds, no time Just me and the sun soaking into deprived skin The color returning after a winter inside.

NEW MEXICO

melanie tompkins

42

MERCIFUL STARS anthony jones

Night enslaves wonder, peace and time.

Darkness decays; it leaves behind, Like tides in sea that sway the mind To look down and not up, up at the stars.

The grace of the world can be seen Therein; pace of space slows and weans, And glows it then so clean a sheen That serene beholds there, there in the stars.

Light excites, reminds, reminisces.

Blackness is slaughtered, when abyssFilled room finds booming, bursting bliss: A kiss of freedom, ‘creed by God. Fortune delight spreads bright applause As night falls beneath the merciful stars.

PERSEPHONE 43

katie carey

44

A TRIO OF HAIKUS yana gudakova

Beams of light through blinds White stripes stretching on my skin Morning mastermind Heat waves of high sun Soft cheeks blushing likes roses Daytime sky undone Dark night scattered snow Eyes dipped under smooth pale light A midnight moonglow

45

CITY LIGHTS melanie tompkins

46

VALLEY OF DESOLATION gavin hunt

47

LEGEND HAS IT dylan hummel

Legend has it we are destroyers Just a quick glimpse through the foyers And you will see al we touched And everything we once clutched Once so splendid Now it is all bended Everything is now torn And all worn To the point where it is unrecognizable And our mark grows more sizeable The world we love so much Has been destroyed by our touch

48

RECLAMATION aidan rhoades

49

CYCLICAL hunter staiger

All around me a war rages.

There is a crayon on the concrete in front of me.

The wax melted into its wrapper, carelessness rendering both the same useless object.

To my right is a toppled fountain, disassembled out of apathy rather than intention.

Another brutal display of entropy and its persistence.

Persistence. Why can we not persist?

Why must we give up, lay down, and go to bed forever?

What cruel factor of biology renders us utterly helpless Against time’s onslaught?

Perhaps, in a past life, I thought the same thing lamenting my ephemerality, and the same in the existence before that.

An immortal being shackled by chains of his own construction.

50

THE PRANCE OF SUDDEN TEMPER anthony jones

The sudden temper of the world: Quiet buzz, a hum, a whimper— No, a whisper— Yes! A whisper.

Tiny voices hide in timber; Smaller ones shall guide, undiffered, To the march of sudden temper.

But from that sound a sight is born: A light outstretched, yet never torn, Adorned by all— Adored by few.

Radiant blaze ignites the view— No law transgresses its horizon.

Must grounded tyrant lay rest his trident, Lest the sounded sight is proof...

The sudden temper of the world: A will which thrills their makeshift mold— Archaic mold, not for mere gold, But for a golden field foretold.

And ancients dance— and nod, when old— To the prance of sudden temper.

51

COMBUSTION timothy endredi

52

ETERNAL SENTINEL gavin hunt

53

SONNET 5 dawson walker

Court is now in session, the bailiffs cry.

All please rise for their holy eminenceStand for the judge who will never arrive Accused rejoice the defense must relent The old gods had gone and none took their place Handshakes between the ruling ruinings But there was no innocence in this case Every guilty all the human being Humans, we could not hear our own planet Or did not stop to care think or listen In their avarice to hell they damned it Gave muted beauty for that which glistens Readers, I’m afraid there will be no turn It seems we are doomed to watch this world burn

54

55

MARTYRDOM anthony jones

Reconciling days of youth, Missing being small.

Flexible, naive, expressive.

Now I possess a stiffer shell And expectations that falter.

Why grow to exchange Freedom for riddled Constraints?

It is to think and to question— Not to forget, or to be naive.

Then I wouldn’t know the pain of being older: Just the wonder of being now.

An element lies within those memories: For begetting wisdom, and yielding strength— Not for me, mind you; But for someone better— It demands will and sacrifice.

To kinship I shed my life— Knowing that when I do, I do with purpose.

LE LION

morgan barnhart

56

WHAT A SUPERHERO MOVIE SHOULD BE elizabeth marvin

When is a superhero movie more than just a way to kill time?

What makes a superhero movie more than just two hours of staring at explosions and hearing lines that would sound out of place in real life?

A superhero movie is more when it tries to be more.

When someone makes an effort to save not only the world, but the individuals that live in it too.

When you can show kids the movie and know that they will be able to watch it and know that they too can be a hero, not just in a movie, but in their own lives.

When people can honestly look an actor in the eye and tell them that their role meant so much more to the world than just a body in a skintight suit on the screen.

When the fight is more than just good vs. bad, but between people who are trying to understand who the other side is.

It’s hard to see that when you can be whoever you see on TV or when you don’t have to worry about you and your friends dressing up for Halloween.

57

Ironman can save New York, but it means more to see Black Panther believing in himself.

Hulk shows us that there is balance inside us, but Mirage and Monet show us strength in adversity that comes from outside.

Robin can help Batman, but Cyborg and Static Shock help those who aren’t in Gotham.

Heroes can be more than someone who gets bad guys off the street, they can help people see that there is more than the whitestraight-wash that follows use through childhood.

Heroes can be us, we can show each other that we come in any form and are allowed to show ourselves to the world. You can be the hero someone needs by being yourself.

A superhero movie is more than what it ever could be when you’re there too.

That is what a superhero movie should be.

58

CHAOS BRINGER. grace miller

I lurk in the shadows in the lull of the dawn Waiting On the crest of a poor fool’s lawn.

I come in the night Chaos I bring Stealing from my neighbors One little thing.

The unlocked door Is my happy place I sneak in uninvited And leave no trace the ‘one little thing’ I plan to win are socks shoes earrings anything with a twin.

Got a double?

I’ll bring trouble.

But I’ll only take one This chaos bringer separates pairs For jolly good fun.

Missing a sock? That was me My only goal: to bring anarchy Silly humans never want to take the blame So when their sock disappears They shout my name.

CHAOS BRINGER.

59

WHEN HEADS ROLL sydney lykins

60

THE GOLEM s.d.

Your body was hewn from stone Centuries ago And the mountain mines call home To the ore of your bones And the mineral of your blood You will is of iron Your resolve is of steel Your tongue is of silver Your heart is of gold The earth draws you in An embrace and a cage You long for what you know to be above To leave the safety of the caves You see it in your dreams That distant place With grass like shards of emeralds The sky like sapphire The sun like a diamond Then one day your dream comes to pass And the world is even more glorious than you had imagined For how could the endless sky be compared to even the most precious of rock You finally see the suns rays and the world shines so bright But you were born and made for the dark And crumble to dirt in the light

61

THE LAST OF THE KINGS olivia solverson

62

BLAZE

timothy endredi

63

SPLIT IN TWO natalie rinehardt

Take out my brain and in your soft hard hands, split it in two Take all I am and leave the trash on the garbage heap to burn Take the left side and put it somewhere new Take the right side and plant in the ground Watch as two new people become me Which is evil, which is good, where am I? I am nowhere, and everywhere, and everyone My blood already running down this page Under your fingers and through space Frozen droplets of stardust remain Just like the mirror, I see myself clearly For the first time, I see everything.

I see evil, I see people.

I feel like a brand new person.

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ABOUT THE CHRONICLE Established in 1897, the Chronicle is Clemson University’s first student art and literary magazine. Twice a year, our staff promotes, produces, and distributes a new issue representing the best artistic and literary work that Clemson students have to offer.

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