Glassworks Apprentice Summer 2017

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Spring 2017


special issue featuring young authors and artists from Overbrook High School Pine Hill, New Jersey a publication of Rowan University’s Master of Arts in Writing

The staff of Glassworks magazine would like to thank: Rowan University’s Master of Arts in Writing Program Lauren Covaci and Overbrook High School of Pine Hill, New Jersey and The Glassworks Advisory Board: Ron Block, Lisa Jahn-Clough, Andrew Kopp, Jeffrey Maxson Cover Art: “Urban Sunflower” by Gabrielle Parisi Cover Design & Layout: Katie Budris


ASSOCIATE EDITORS Nicolina Givin Sarah Knapp Amanda Rennie ASSISTANT EDITORS Michael Fotos Gabrielle Lund

Glassworks is available both digitally and in print. See our website for details: Glassworks accepts literary poetry, fiction, nonfiction, craft essays, art, photography, short video/film & audio. See submission guidelines: Glassworks is a publication of Rowan University’s Master of Arts in Writing Graduate Program Correspondence can be sent to: Glassworks c/o Katie Budris Rowan University Victoria Hall Glassboro, NJ 08028 E-mail:

Copyright © 2017 Glassworks Glassworks maintains First North American Serial Rights for publication in our journal and First Electronic Rights for reproduction of works in Glassworks and/or Glassworks-affiliated materials. All other rights remain with the artist.

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Table of Contents Art Christina Morrison, Scene from a Scope | 22 Gabriella Parisi, Kaleidoscope Sky | 16 Gabriella Parisi, Urban Sunflower | cover Devon Tomasello, Emergence | 11 Cooper Schipske, Carnivore | 6 Ava Underwood, Living Paradox | 26 Fiction Caitlin McHorney, Camping | 14 Nonfiction Reina Garcia, Crossing the Border | 24 Poetry Raysean Brotherton, Paradises of Strangers | 10 Darien Brown, Ode to Tree | 17 Jordan Busch, Pride | 4 Nick Fritchman, These Trees | 8 Nick Furlow, Love Is | 20 Noah Iacono, Free World | 7 Julia Koener, Mime | 18 Thomas Milewski, Left Me Behind | 9 Matt Oorlog, They Say | 13 Leea Rosiak, Life’s a Dream | 27 Rob Rossano, To My Snowboard | 21 Ivannah Sosing, What is the Fourth of July to You? | 12 Justin Thistle, The Three Trinkets | 5 Chandler Wikander, Ten Things I Love About You | 3

Ten Things I Love About You Chandler Wikander one. the way you called me your baby at every single visit. two. when you would scoop me up and tell me you missed me. three. “not everything’s about you honey, shut up and look pretty.” four. how you told me that you would give me the world on a platter when you came home. five. the way you told me how much you missed us. how you longed to be home and be embraced by the safe haven that was the house of cards you blew down with a gust of your own breath. six. the way you handled a few cases of beer like a man, then tore the cape off my hero, like she was the tab to your next drink. seven. the way you held me when I sat on your lap after so long of not seeing you. eight. the time you told me I was your best girl, the way you told me you would never let communications die between us and the bars, but we are on month three of struggled hellos. nine. the way you spoke of my hero. how she was your muse. how much you loved her. how amazing she was at being a not-soamazing person. how much you yearned for her affection and for her to admit this was her fault. ten. the way you apologized. ten. I have lost track of all the sorrys you have not even mumbled. ten. I’m losing count of how many times you never said you’d make it up. ten. the way you have spent ten years wallowing in self-pity. and ten. the respect you demand is artificial in the ways that you are not a man of my life, but a mere speck of dust in the universe I am engulfed in.

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Pride Jordan Busch I am taken, I am absent, I am being remade. I am taken, I am messed with, I am the cause of craze. What am I? No--not a person or a thing, although I can be found, in both beggar and king. No, I’m not wealth, And no, I’m not faith. I’m the one thing, That you just can’t replace. I am taken, I am messed with, I am the cause of craze. I was the one thing you had, now the stakes are raised. I am your dignity, which you yourself should praise. I was taken, I was absent, I am now erased.

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The Three Trinkets Justin Thistle One made of silver, another made of shell, the other of bird. All three together make beauty. The fair maiden shines. Those that follow her, worship her like god. A silver charm shines, gleaming in the light, showing fame and wealth, making men chase her, for she too, shines bright. A shell for toughness expressing resilience, never been broken, hardened by nature. But it can be a home, to the weak and frail Lastly, a feather. Exploration shown, natural beauty like a bird flying, for the sky is hers, bound not by a man, but that of her own imagination.

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Carnivore Cooper Schipske

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Free World Noah Iacono A life of distraction A life in a digital age A life in need of escape Here is where I go The outer world A narrow road The great unknown No map nor compass No rules or regulations No one to judge or dictate A nonstop path of the realest This world belongs to everyone This is the outer world This world never stops or settles This is our world This is what lies beyond the constructions of destructions we call homes There is no glass ceiling Anything can be done Anything is possible No more being trapped inside This is the free world

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These Trees Nick Fritchman I watch the vibrant trees, oscillating in the cool, autumn, breeze. I attempt to suppress the memory of my sorrowed past. My soul, incandescent to my creator. The will of my sorrow depends on these trees.

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Left Me Behind Thomas Milewski The door shut before I could say goodbye. When I found out you were gone, all I did was cry, praying to see you again, looking up in the sky. It’s unfair because it wasn’t close to your time to die. For you, I’m going to win, never taking a tie. I can’t believe it, I really miss you Dad. Sometimes things happen even though it’s sad. You’re in a better place up in heaven, I’m kind of glad that you’re not in this awful world, it’s getting bad. We would fight, but I loved you, I was never mad. Now, untill I die, I’m screaming R.I.P., Dad! Without you here, it’s kind of scary. Mom told me you’re in a better place, dont worry. I miss our McDonald’s trips for a McFlurry. Mom started drinking her visions blurry. My love to you is like a monk with votary. I’ll see you again, one day, but I’m not in a hurry.

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Paradises of Strangers Raysean Brotherton My paradises where I get away from sinning, waiting to be looked at differently; a place that makes me versatile. I thought this was going be easy, like Sunday in church praising the man upstairs. A paradise of green lush grass where cheers of people echo through the stands. It’s where my sins are washed away, where I am perceived differently. I thought this was going to be easy, like stealing candy from a baby. A small paradise where I hoped I find who I was. Living across from Peter Mott House, feeling historic, walking around the corner to the barbershop, talking about basketball and music; Where there once were strangers, now there is family. The paradises where people get away from sinning, where they hear the cheers from the stands, where strangers become friends and hear the conversations of basketball and music. These are my paradises of strangers.

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Emergence Devon Tomasello

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What is the Fourth of July to You? Ivannah Sosing Pride, freedom, liberty, anguish, fear, anxiety, fireworks and people laughing, gun shots and soldiers dying. Cherished memories of laughter, triggers of unwanted flashbacks, tears of happy joy, cries of sad despair. Running in the streets with sparklers, trekking through the bushes with grenades, splashing friends with water guns firing rifles at innocent civilians. Flying in a plane to a new state, ready to see family again touring to a third world country traveling with an uncertain fate. What is the American flag? A banner of stars and freedom, or stripes of death and mourning? What is the 4th of July to you?

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They Say Matt Oorlog There is a place where you think that you know every face, but you can’t put a name to that face because in this place no one has names. They all have faint memories of others’ faces, and you try to figure out where you know them from. You spend all your time trying to figure out why you are at this place with strangers.

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Camping Caitlin McHorney It seemed like a good idea yesterday. Now, we’re lost in the middle of nowhere with barely any food or water trying to find some form of shelter. We drove out here in hopes of having a boisterous weekend: camp, have bonfires, hang out with the guys; I never would’ve thought things would turn out like this. Skylar and I have been planning this weekend for months now, but Jack and Carson thought it would be better to play video games in a dark basement for forty-eight hours. We finally got them to agree to the trip when we said they could plan the next trip. “So are you ready for this weekend? It’s going to be incredible,” Skylar says in the hallway on the way to my locker. “Yeah, totally. I just have to finish packing and load all my stuff in the Jeep. What time should I pick you up?” “Just come by around six,” she shouts as she gets washed away by the crowd of irritating freshman walking to class like a herd of sheep. I close my locker and head out to my car. By the time I get home, my mom and dad are already questioning whether or not they should still let me go. I reassure them that everything will be fine. “We’ll be with the boys, and we have our phones. No worries, guys.” “But what if--” my mom tries to make me second guess my decision to go. Right now, I wish I would’ve listened to her. “She’ll be okay, sweetheart. She’s almost an adult. Let her go out and have some fun.” My dad would regret saying that if he knew what would occur later that night. I ran upstairs to my room and tried to remember everything that I told myself I needed. “Hoodie, phone charger, camera, other clothes, etc.” I say goodbye to my parents. Little did I know it could be the last time I ever see them. I throw my backpack into the Jeep and drive over to Skylar’s house. When I arrive, she’s walking out of her house struggling to carry three bags, a case of water, and the groceries we bought last night. I jump out of the car and grab two of her bags and the case of water.

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“Do you really need all of this? I thought we were roughing it.” “This is roughing it; I only packed three pairs of shoes.” I look at her and snicker at her definition of ‘roughing it’. We get her wardrobe into my jeep and head over to Jack’s place where he and Carson are supposedly waiting. When we get there, they fail at their attempt to scare us forgetting I have side mirrors. After everyone’s things are in the car, we take off on our adventure. Skylar turns up the music, and we all start jamming out until we get into a part of our trip that I’m unsure of. I turn down the music and try to use the GPS on my phone to find where the campsite is. No service. “Hey guys, does anyone’s phone have service?” “Oh no! No service! Looks like we’re going to die out here with no one to find us,” Carson says jokingly, never thinking it could actually happen. “It’s cool, guys. I have a map,” Skylar exclaims. She starts to read out directions, and it seems as if we are getting farther away from civilization and even further from our only hope for help. The road slowly starts to disappear, and we haven’t seen any cars or people in over an hour. We arrive at what seems to be a plain old forest. “The site is probably deeper in the woods,” Jack states. Nighttime begins to approach as the stars become more visible. We have been walking deeper into the woods, and I was starting to think this was a bad idea. The tree frogs are croaking while the wind roars past us. I can tell Skylar is getting apprehensive, and the guys aren’t doing much reassuring. “Maybe we should just head back to the Jeep and hang out at Jack’s for the weekend,” I suggest. “Nah, we gotta be close. How about we split up? We’ll cover more ground that way. We have our phones, so we can call each other once one of us finds the site,” Carson answers. The rest of the group agrees, and we split up: boys and girls. My phone says it’s eleven, and my battery is slowly draining. Skylar and I are completely lost, accepting the fact that we are nowhere near the site. We walk along a supposed trail hoping it leads somewhere familiar, or at least back to the boys. My phone beeps alerting me that my phone has died.

“I think I left it in the car. My bad,” she says. “Are you kidding me right now?” I exclaim. “We are lost in the middle of nowhere, possibly not even in the right town, because you can’t properly read a map, and now you inform me you left your phone, the only form of communication we have to Jack and Carson and any help, in the car? We are so screwed.”

get to go to college or decorate a dorm room with Skylar. Never get to get married or start a family. It was all slowly fading away, everything I thought was so important was becoming irrelevant. I question what happened to Jack and Carson but stop because it hurts too much to think about that. I question what our parents will think when we don’t show up Sunday night. I stop questioning everything because people say death is supposed to be peaceful. Slowly and then all at once, I felt warm in a safe kind of way.

Caitlin Mc Horney | Camping

“Well, my phone’s dead. Where’s yours at? I gotta get ahold of Jack,” I say, as Skylar attempts to grab her phone.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know I was supposed to be the responsible one,” Skylar screams at me then storms off. “Skylar, wait! You can’t leave. it’s midnight. We have no form of communication, the guys aren’t anywhere near us, and if we split up who knows what could happen.” It’s too late. She ran off in a different direction, the pitch black forest to swallowing her alive. I made the decision to stop trying to find the site and find one of my friends instead. Suddenly, I hear a spine cringing noise and almost jump out of my skin. I start to run, but trip over what I believe is a log and tumble down a steep hill hitting every possible rock, stick, and other forest inhabiting creature. As I hit the bottom of the hill, and I feel an enormous amount of pain. I pick up my bleeding head and look at the rest of my body to the best of my ability in this lighting. My foot is turned in the opposite direction, I have a huge laceration on my thigh, and my shoulder appears to be dislocated. I start to panic and scream for help. “Someone! Anyone! Please help!” I sob. The wind starts blowing heavily, and I become cold. Remembering I packed a hoodie in my backpack, I try to get it but realize my injuries are too severe for me to move. When I throw my backpack behind my head, I see something that would scar me for life if I survived this: Skylar’s dead body being feasted on by a pack of wolves. At this point, I want to scream for help even louder, but grasp the fact that if I make any noises, I would be the wolves’ dessert. I cry quietly to myself in hope that someone would hear me and rescue me from this nightmare. I now know the noise I heard earlier was the last noise I would ever hear come out of Skylar’s mouth. The goodbye I said to my parents would be the last. The kiss Jack gave me in the car before we started this downward spiral was the conclusion to what could’ve been the best relationship of my life. The conversations I had with my teachers would be all that they remember me by. I would never finish high school. Never get to walk across that stage with my parents in the stands crying tears of joy as I hold that diploma. Never

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Kaleidoscope Sky Gabriella Parisi

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Ode to Tree Darien Brown Oh Tree, how you have suffered when you fought your brethren for room as they turned green with envy for your every ring. Yet you refused to surrender your ground to the foliage who thinks only for himself. Oh Tree, how you have cried when Wind and Winter did show you harm by killing your leaves and branches. How you had survived for so long tells of your great strength. Oh tree, how you have pleaded when you groaned against the blades of the contraption that did slice you. You must have been scared to pieces as into fragments you were cut. Oh Tree, how you did change when you became a source of love and hope; so much more than a sheet without words. Now you have potential for anything and none yet know what your future holds.

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Mime Julia Koener I’m trapped; trapped in this book but I can’t speak. Can you help me? Mimes losing time, pulling a rope of false hope. No matter how you move or pull, you’re in the same spot. Yet some people think you’re another street performer, another hot shot. Shots fired, you’re old man’s retired. Waves where you live in the streets, dirty clean, is a can of your earnings, constantly burning on how to survive. All you want to do is thrive, climb the social ladder, but it’s shoved down your throat that it doesn’t matter; Dreams: shattered. Back to mime, more lost time acting how you feel, barely enough money for each meal. Struggles to get up and put on makeup, black and white like an old film, a contrast to life, a contrast to the norms feelings demented, misformed-wrong for being silent having a disability of being quiet. I’m trapped, trapped in this box but I can’t speak. Can you help me? When speaking up has become corrupt. Where you have no evidence, yet where do you see my residence? Lost hope, left coping. Silent movements, zero self-improvements.

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Julia Koener | Mime

Mime full of lost time pulling a rope of false of hope. No climbing up. I’m trapped--trapped in this box but I can’t speak. Can you help me? You opened to close, you set me free from the trap to take it all back. Mime.

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Love Is Nikolas Furlow Love is a drug. It’s a drug we all fall victim to, we all need, we all want. It’s amazing how a word so small can have so much meaning. Love is painful. It’ll leave you hurt, upset, not knowing how to go on. Love is remembering the pain but being able to forgive. Love is accepting one’s past and looking forward to the future. Love is indescribable. Love is... well it’s Love.

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To My Snowboard Rob Rossano We glide along the top of the powdery white snow, my snowboard, strapped to my feet - we are one. Ode to my shiny snowboard that’s painted blue like the dark skies at daybreak. Snowboard sleek as a dolphin gliding along the top of an ocean wave. The way it skims off the snow, edges as sharp as razor blades as it cuts deep into the snow, leaving marks along the trail as it goes. My snowboard goes down the mountain like a bird flying high in the sky, catching the air that propels it along flipping, rolling in the sky. We land softly as one - just as we started. My snowboard and I ready to climb the lift to the top again. Together we ride.

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Scene from a Scope Christina Morrison

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Crossing the Border Reina Garcia The Promise of a Return

Thirst in the Desert

I was living a happy life, enjoying every single day of my life, until the day when my dad decided to emigrate to the United States and my life changed completely. I thought everything would be the same, and that living alone with my mom and my sister would be alright. Unfortunately, it wasn’t like that. After a while my mom decide to emigrate too.

Everything started changing as we were getting closer to the place where we were supposed to enter the desert, we started getting tired and hungry. I could feel the sun growing warmer. The heat was floating off the earth below my feet.

“Tengo que dejarlas mis hijas,” (I have to leave you my daughters), said my mom.

As we started to walk through the desert, that was the moment I realized my mom was right: this was not easy. Yet, I knew I had to continue on — well here we go, I thought as the sun beat on my back.

Well it didn’t feel as awful as I thought it would, not until the day when she said goodbye for real. I thought my heart broke. I did get to stay with my grandparents, whom I love very much. They are the best and I could not ask for more.

As we crossed a fence, the bottles of water broke.

As time passed, I held that promise my mother made close to my heart. The promise of her return. That she would come back for us after three years. She did keep true to this promise. When she returned, I was so happy to be with her. I hugged her. I was dealing with an emotional journey without my parents, but what I didn’t realize was that the physical journey was about to start.

In the desert nobody is friendly. Everyone is worried about survival and they would not share their water with us.

The Journey to my New Home “Daughters,” my mother said to me the night before we left, “get ready because we are going to go to the United States.” I thought it was going to be easy and that I didn’t need to get emotionally and physically ready, but I did not fully understand how difficult the journey was going to be. At this time I was in the middle of my journey about to finish eighth grade, surrounded by nice people and nice friends. As a fourteen-year-old girl, I didn’t expect what it was like to emigrate to an unknown country, having to leave my love ones, to be with all my family. As we started our journey I said, “Oh no this is going to be easy.” My mother just flashed a smile. She knew what I didn’t. My expectations were different from my mom’s, who had already experienced the way. At the beginning the people who were guiding us were nice. They gave us water and food.

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“Oh God,” I said to myself, “what are we going to do now? We will die in the desert if we don’t have water.”

As the day became hotter and my thirst grew, I became angry. I started to blame my mom because I thought it was her fault. My sister Ana did as well. Time passed and we kept walking, the hardest part for me was when the guide said that we were going to sleep during the day and walk during the night, it was impossible. I got so frustrated that I couldn’t sleep during the day because the steam coming out of the earth was exaggerated. It was impossible to sleep in such heat. I started to get frustrated and ask my mom, when we were gonna get there? How much is left? She answered, “Ya casi llegamos hija, no te preocupes” (We are almost there daughter, don’t worry). The truth is, and she knew it, that we were only just starting our journey. As the time passed, my frustration increased more and more. The only thing I seemed focused on was water. That was pretty much the only thing I started to say, “Mami quiero mas agua” (Mom I want more water). The only thing I had on my mind was water, but there was no water for me drink. I started to get very weak; I could barely walk, my strength was over, I recognized that my body could no longer take the steps needed to cross the desert. I had not slept well during the day. And when night came I was so exhausted, hungry, and thirsty. My condition was affecting my mom and my sister and the

The Miracle Then finally my body, my mind, my soul could not take the journey any longer and I fainted. I believe that everything in life happens for a reason. God has a plan for everyone and everything. He places us through hard times so that we can understand struggle. He gives us help when we need it. He walks with us through the desert even when we can’t see him. I recognized that my struggle was all part of God’s plans. God sent me water. From that moment I got water from the others and a minute later I woke up. Then another miracle happened. Not many people would perceive this as a miracle, but as something everyone fears on the journey. The migration police appeared. They were doing their duty, which was looking for immigrants in the area. When the group I was in saw them, they started running away. Because I was so weak and could not move my family and I were left alone. At the moment, I did not feel afraid. I welcomed the police. I just thanked God because I knew I would survive, and that I would be fine.

Now that the time has passed and I remember being in the desert, I realize that everything was under control. That if I was not found by the police I would have kept on going and I would have died. My dream was to be reunited with my family, but that part of my victory was incomplete. As we were on our way, my father had an accident and unfortunately he was deported. I have faith that one day I will see him again.

Reina Garcia | Crossing the Border

others as well. They were tired and having to help carry me across the desert was putting a strain on everyone.

The police took us to a shelter. Then we were transferred to another place. At this location I got food, drink, and sleep. Everything I desperately needed God provided for me through these people. Later they did a whole documentation and after that they decide to give us a chance to stay in the country instead of deporting us. At this moment a reading from the bible came to my mind, Romans 8:28: “And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.” When we thought everything was over, God started working. When we lost hope he showed us that he was there. And now I celebrate a victory that for years I thought would never come. My Victory For the past five years I have lived in fear. I have been afraid of being told I have to leave. That this place I call home will be taken from me. But with almost five years of being in this country as an illegal person, on February 2017 that all changed. I got approved and I got all my documents, and now I am not an illegal person anymore. Now I can dream big because I know everything is possible in life. Everything happens for a reason. I suffered in the desert so that I may live the life my parents planned for me.

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Living Paradox Ava Underwood

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Life’s a Dream Leea Rosiak A dream can become a nightmare at any minute. It can start out as beautiful as a spring day and then turn into a cold, dark winter night. Or it could be the other way around: a cold dark winter day to a beautiful sunny spring day. A special wedding on a warm summer day turned very dark and a big creature came; The creature was big and grey with wings, horns, and a tail. He broke through the trees. You can wake up in a panic thinking it is so real, but it turns out to be just a dream. Relax, child, a nightmare can never hurt you. A dream can always be a beautiful thing, a nightmare means nothing. Sweet Dreams.

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contributors Raysean Brotherton Darien Brown Jordan Busch Nick Fritchman

Matt Oorlog Gabriella Parisi Leea Rosiak Rob Rossano

Nick Furlow

Cooper Schipske

Reina Garcia

Ivannah Sosing

Julia Koener Noah Iacono

Justin Thistle

Caitlin McHorney

Devon Tomasello

Christina Morrison

Ava Underwood

Thomas Milewski About This Issue This issue is a collaboration between the editors of Glassworks magazine and students from Overbook High School in Pine Hill, New Jersey

Chandler Wikander