CAMBIA: Writers in the Schools 2013 by The Cabin Literary Center

CAMBIA Writers in the Schools 2013

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CAMBIA Writers in the Schools 2013

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This is a Log Cabin Book, an imprint of THE CABIN 801 South Capitol Boulevard, Boise, Idaho 83702 (208) 331-8000 www.thecabinidaho.org ÂŠ 2013 The Cabin All rights reserved. Book design by Jocelyn Robertson. Printed and bound in the USA in an edition of 250 copies. No part of this publication may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission from the publisher except in the context of reviews.

plural cambia, \- bē-ә\ from cambium \kam-bē-әm\ noun A thin formative layer between the xylem and phloem of most vascular plants that gives rise to new cells and is responsible for secondary growth. – Merriam-Webster, 2011

Writers in the Schools and publication of Cambia are made possible by generous support from: John F. Nagel Foundation, Steele-Reese Foundation, U.S. Bancorp Foundation, Keynetics, Charlotte Y. Martin Foundation, Laura Moore Cunningham Foundation, Inc., Weyerhaeuser Giving Fund, The Whittenberger Foundation, National Endowment for the Arts, Idaho Commission on the Arts, Fred Meyer Foundation, Harvest Foundation, Key Bank Foundation, Target Foundation, Boise Cascade L.L.C., Boise INC, Union Pacific Foundation and Idaho Community Foundation.

We extend our thanks to the faculty and administration of: Ada County Juvenile Detention Center, Canyon Springs High School, Cynthia Mann Elementary School, Foothills School of Arts and Sciences, Foothills School of Arts and Sciences CHOICE Program, Frank Church High School, Heritage Middle School, Marian Pritchett High School, Rolling Hills Charter School, Roosevelt Elementary School, Rose Hill Montessori School, Seven Oaks Elementary School, Southwest Idaho Juvenile Detention Center, and Victory Academy.

CONTENTS Introduction Index

• 1

• 3

STORIES & POEMS

• 5

Teaching Writers’ Biographies About The Cabin

• 63

• 61

INTRODUCTION On the first day of my very first WITS residency at Seven Oaks Elementary School, we read “The Delight Song of Tsoai-talee” in which N. Scott Momaday explores his relationship to the universe through lines like “I am the farthest star,” and “I am the cold of dawn.” I was intent on freeing my students imaginations and I asked them to write their own Delight Songs by exploring things out of the ordinary. I immediately realized that my students were already possessed the imaginations of writers, imaginations that were freely running wild through territories way beyond the ordinary everyday. By the end of the activity, the students had told me they were “the warm pancake at 9:00 at night,” “Pluto soaring in the galaxy,” “the green seaweed floating in the ocean,” and “the blue sun” as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Over this year these elementary school students have written stories with chapters, sequels and multiple points of view; and poems full of literary and cultural allusions that border on epic. They have continually impressed me and reminded me why writing is vital to being a person. In the middle of my residency at Seven Oaks my aunt passed 1

away from heart failure. My family is tightly knit and the death of Aunt Terry sent a quiet, blue wave of emptiness into our lives. About a week before I flew to Wisconsin for the memorial, I read a poem written by Gabriella, one of my fourth grade students. In this poem, Gabriella describes what she remembers from her grandfather’s room right before he passed away and how she felt at his funeral. Her poem captures the complex mixture of joy and sorrow we feel when we remember someone we have lost. While she describes crying at her grandfather’s funeral, she also recalls touching his chair, and the taste of his 96th birthday cake. At his funeral she looks for him, but he is not there; and within his absence the poem ends with her smelling his cologne as if he were actually standing next to her. The ending of Gabriella’s poem especially reminded me how much we still have from those we love and have lost. After my aunt’s memorial as I walked across her ice-crusted farm, a labor of love which she had cultivated with the energy that was so characteristically hers, I thought of Gabriella’s poem. Thousands of stories and poems were written in the WITS program this year and the following collection highlights just a few of our favorites. The work ranges from the wacky to the tragic and this anthology, (including Gabriella’s poem), illustrates that while writing is an individual practice; its value is in how it connects the complexities of human experience. We might write on our own, but because of writing we certainly aren’t alone. — GENNA KOHLHARDT Writer-in-Residence, Seven Oaks Elementary School 2

INDEX (by first name) A Aden O’Brien • 50 Alana Cronin • 37 Anna Allred • 22 Anna Melvin • 18 Annelise Jennings • 51 Ava Strand • 43

B Brieanna LeBoeuf • 8 Bradie Garven • 36 Bridget Brackney • 54

C Caleb Hart • 45 Cambria Gonzales • 14 Cassidy Boyce • 27 Clara Smith • 47

E Ella Ernst • 12 Ella Van Alfen • 21 Ellie Stark • 23 Emellia Doshier • 41 Emilie Eshbaugh • 34

G Gracie Garringer • 44 Gabe Becerra • 46 Gabriella Gonzalez • 55

H Harper Yee • 29

I Isham Farris • 17 Ireland Russell • 26

Jaden Hawkes • 40 Jake Allen • 42 Jenelle Hanson • 10 Jordan Segal • 32 Julianna Weinert • 39

Priscilla Latimer • 52

K Kyle Garner • 9

L Livy Madsen • 48 Luke Wilhite • 53

M Mckayla Davis • 25 Mike Ouwehand • 33 Monty Rutland • 58 Morgan Hinkle • 24 Morgan Frothinger • 16

N Nolan Hansen • 38 4

R Rachel Bachman • 15

S Sarah Neuhoff • 28 Skylar Mobry • 31 Sophie Anderson • 30 Sydney Heyborne • 7 Sydney Hicks • 49

T Tess Manning-Floch • 20 Thomas Jarvis • 56 Tyson Woods • 35

CAMBIA

HOW TO WRITE A POEM Sydney Heyborne Mary McPherson Elementary First you must climb to an eagle’s nest and find the star that you love best. Then ask that star why he floats so far to be with never-ending darkness. “To be free,” he’ll reply. You’ll write that down and you’ll have your first line found. To get your second line on paper, grab a pen and maybe a stapler. Then leap from a plane and land on an ox. Grab a fly and put it in a box. Then ride on your ox to the end of the world, and jump off with the fly as you fall and swirl. When you land in Eternal Glen, grab your stapler and your pen. Staple your feelings on a tree. Bite your pen and shout with glee, for everyone can now agree, you’ve chased your second line down. Forget any meaning, grief, or strife and you’ll see never-ending life. Expect the sun more often than tears and you will not have a single fear. Listen to beauty, be worthy, remember me and then you’ll open my gate. Fly to the top of eternal love, stay by the clouds and the indigo dove. Take all your sad thoughts away, ride a horse who cannot neigh. Go and drink of the fountain of youth, and you’ll have your third line, on the edge of your tooth. 7

MY PLACE Brieanna LeBoeuf Roosevelt Elementary I love that place in your mind that nobody else can see that place where smallest silence exists that place that is made for you. The place that flows only of heat not coldness, but heat. A peaceful place in my heart. A place where the beautiful vivid light shines bright. The black steel street that drives me to the right place That box of secrets that you hide for years then you just finally find. The place that will keep them safe Forever and always. Forever and always Such a funny saying Funny but strong Forever and always It is my place FOREVER AND ALWAYS 8

NAME Kyle Garner Seven Oaks Elementary School My name makes me feel strength in my body. The name Kyle makes me think of a bright tender colored green. Sometimes my name makes me shiver or tremble. My full name makes me feel stupendous. I think on occasions my name is extra cool. My name sounds like gentle waves crashing against rocky ledges. My name looks like a pile of sport supplies, like footballs, basketballs, baseballs. My name feels thick from the drifting syllables. My name smells like wild flowers in a far off meadow. It tastes tender. I would never change my awesome name. It has a lot of definitions. Yes, yes it does.

PAYETTE LAKE Jenelle Hanson Rose Hill Montessori School To be the Payette Lake you must look after Sharlie. If you are the Payette Lake you mustn’t cry too hard or you’ll start a tsunami. In the winter you finally get to rest.

If you become aggravated at a sailor will you wash him overboard or just cry.

SNOW WHITE: An Excerpt Ella Ernst Foothills School of Arts and Sciences CHOICE Program Once upon a time in a faraway land there was a queen, a dead king, and a princess. Just like in most stories, the queen was evil. She tried to kill the princess, but the princess got away. She ran into the forest, but she was pursued by a huntsman sent by the queen. How do I know this? Because I was her only truly loyal companion. I am an old, old raccoon. I was the only animal who stayed with the princess when the huntsman came. That’s where my story starts. *** Snap! A tree branch breaks above Snow White. She screams as it barely misses her head. She keeps running, trying to get away from the huntsman. She sees an HUGE abandoned tree trunk and runs towards it. She runs inside and sees six and a half dwarfs sitting at a table. “Who are you?” they ask in unison. “I’m Snow White.” “Snow White?” they all say. “Yes, I am Snow White and the queen is trying to kill me and I need to hide from the huntsman. Do you know a place I can stay away and hide?” 12

“No, you need to leave. We’ll all die if you’re here,” says the one with no legs. “Wait, can you cook?” says the red-curly-haired one. “Yes!” says Snow White. “Can you clean?” asks a scruffy bearded one. “Yes,” Snow White says. “Can she stay?” the six dwarves ask the half dwarf in unison. “Fine. But go hide upstairs so the huntsman doesn’t find you,” the half dwarf says. And as soon as Snow White arrives upstairs, the huntsman barges through the door. “Where is the princess?” the huntsman shouts. “The princess?” the skinny dwarf asks. “Yes. She was here. I followed her scent. She’s in here.” The huntsman starts sniffing the air and walking toward the stairs. Snow White jumps through the window, into the forest, and keeps running. She runs and runs. “She’s gone!” says the huntsman. “She was never here,” says the half dwarf. “Sorry to disturb you,” says the confused huntsman. 13

SOUNDS OF TIME Cambria Gonzales Roosevelt Elementary Like The Andrew Sisters singing to the President A frog croaking children asleep Crickets singing to an audience The buzz of a bee dancing in a meadow The drip drop of water falling The jewels sparkling in the ocean A treasure chest singing to the ocean A star sparkling in the sky A world with gems The shining of gold and silver The first sight of a flower singing A leopard sleeping in a tree The darkness chilling your bones The slap of someone hitting a beach ball The fifty stars of a flag waving in the wind The crunching sound of Popeye eating spinach An ice cream sundae sweet as syrup

NONE OF THIS MATTERS Rachel Bachman Eagle Middle School It was just an ache in my stomach repetitively throbbing as roses slipped out of my grasp. In the road cars were fiercely crashing upon the wet cracked ground. Things starting smelling of rotten leaves and moldy trees. These things I am unable to elaborate on. So I am sitting here waiting for nothing but love I guess. You see my life is like a triangle continuously churning on top the deserted plains. I feel like a Lilliputian in the strong wind but none of this matters because this is just an ache in my stomach.

GRACE Morgan Frothinger Seven Oaks Elementary School My middle name is Grace. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s like a scarlet lily floating away. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s like telling promises. My name is like the first laughter of a baby. My name is the high sea. I am a golden mystery. My name is an adventure.

ALL ABOUT CREEKS Isham Farris Mary McPherson Elementary To be a creek, you must be calm, accept the small minnows who feed there. Weather can be hard to encounter, such as snow that will freeze you solid. You must have open hands to animals in need of water. When being a creek, you will see beautiful colors in spring, and hear Sleepy noises like a frogâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s croak. If lucky, you will receive a special name. To be a creek, you must be calm.

THERE AT LAST Anna Melvin Roosevelt Elementary As I walk out, I see the grey sled already on the hill. I see my grandma waiting as I get off the giant white airplane, my friend Emma already on her sled, her pink bag flying all over the place. As I sit on the sled I feel the cold white snow my grandmaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s dog jumping around.

We push off I hug my grandma. The silver pole coming toward us, I feel a tongue on my face. Now where are we? I don’t see the pole. We’re not at the airport. We’re finally there at my house in Tamarack, in my grandma’s cozy house.

THE LYNX AND THE HARE Tess Manning-Floch White Pine Elementary The pale lynx padded softly through the snow, as soft as dew sliding off a leaf, stalking a snowshoe hare. Silently, he leaned back on his haunches and crouched so low, his stomach fur brushed the snow. Then he pounced, pinning the frightened hare to the ground. The lynx unsheathed his claws. The hare was gone with one swift stroke of his huge paw. The snowshoe hare died a quiet death, but the lynx felt remorse. â&#x20AC;&#x153;I wonder what he feels like?â&#x20AC;? the lynx questioned himself. He ignored the thought as he looked into the cold, blank eyes of the hare. He swallowed the hare quickly and streaked off, scenting another. He would always remember the encounter.

IN OUT OF ITSELF Ella Van Alfen Eagle Middle School I threw my regret out the window. It swirled in the wind, lifting with each gust. The wind probed it, pushing and bending it until it finally fell to rest on the cold dark pavement, forgiving itself. The regret flew out of itself. It lifted with each passing car and in that moment the pavement felt warm as the sun smiled down on it. As the largest car of all flew over it, regret came to rest on the grass. With a perfect view of the sky, regret became impractical. Clouds drifted over the sun and back again, like problems in a life. I threw my regret out the window. Right there in the grass regret was completely content, shameless and happy. Hopeful and satisfied I threw my regret out the window. 21

MY NAME Anna Allred Seven Oaks Elementary School In Latin my name means twilight, it means sadder times, like a foggy lane, like a black chasm, like an unknown master, a narrow mountain trail, terror, shadows, distant songs, queer elves hiding in slender trees, towers on fire, or hobbits trapped. Tales of old lords, arrows whizzing by, of unknown times, the terror of an ageless king, of pale lantern light, pillars casting shadows, but in English, it means ring.

HOW TO ESCAPE SCHOOL Ellie Stark Mary McPherson Elementary Take a deep breath, and make, “lunch.” Go to school. Wait, wait, wait and wait for the lunch bell to ring. Go, wait, no, sprint to lunch! Forget everything and eat, eat, eat! Be eating the sock sandwich, rotten apples and soda you packed. Take the shoe and bite hard on it. Listen for the bell to go back to class. Expect to be sick, very sick. See the nurse dial your mom’s phone number so you can go home! Caution: There may be side effects such as going to the hospital or needing surgery.

LAZY CASHIER Morgan Hinkle Eagle Middle School My location is Folsom, CA. I am a Walmart cashier with a real dilemma. I can’t find a stupid toothpick! Let me explain: I was on my break and wanted some lunch, so I went to the deli and bought a ham sandwich. The ham was thick, the lettuce crunchy, the mayo creamy. It was so good, I ate it all. After I finished, I went back to the break room and realized I had a big piece of ham stuck in my molar. I tried to get it out with my tongue, but it didn’t budge. I tried to get it out with my finger, and it still wouldn’t budge. I headed out to the floor and went down the Walmart aisles, looking for some toothpicks to buy. I found some, but realized I didn’t have any money. I had to have the ham stuck in my teeth all day until I got home. Finally justice was served. The ham was out.

HAIR IN THE MORNING Mckayla Davis Seven Oaks Elementary School When I wake up my hair is as crazy as a purple crocodile wearing trousers. It is as poofed as a marshmallow that’s about to be blown up. As ratted as a sparrow’s nest As curly as a monkey’s underarm hair As wild as a fluorescent pink baboon wearing banana peels on its head As smelly as a grandmother sloth who hasn’t bathed in 2 years As abnormal as 3 kidnapped tigers riding on a dolphin As messed up as a rusty sweatshirt As weird as a green cloud raining gumballs As strange as a Gracie who likes pink As embarrassing as wearing my shoes backwards. 25

THE LEGS Ireland Russell Mary McPherson Elementary A black, dark city named Gotham is creeping death. When men come there their legs fall off and they crawl on their elbows to try to get anywhere, but Gotham. Then, girls glide gracefully, pick up the legs and dance with them.

THE SECRET LIFE OF BENJAMIN Cassidy Boyce White Pine Elementary I taste like metal and plastic. I have been used as a weapon and as a container. I’m two inches tall. My skin is rough. I have no arms, ears, feet or nose. I’m only two mouths and a little black top hat. My voice sounds like metal gears not quite fitting. I have always been thought of as a tool for typewriters, but that was only my part-time job. After I quit that I worked making receipts for Burger King. Now I’m an 82 year old man who wears old English pants and Courier Italic shirts with my little black top hat. My name is Benjamin. I was born in Kansas and I never married. My favorite thing to do is sit in my chair and listen to Beethoven. I am only happy when I listen to music. I’m undercover right now so don’t tell anybody about me.

BAD FASHION Sarah Neuhoff Seven Oaks Elementary School Your clothes are like a black hole, like a star hitting your head while you have a migraine, like being woken up to a cheetah on your back. Your clothes are like a period at the beginning of a sentence, like a glass door full of dirt, like a flag in 100 pieces, like a war between father and daughter, as if a scarf was tying you to the sun, like the school was on fire and you were in the middle.

BOOKS Harper Yee Roosevelt Elementary A book starts to jump up in the air It starts to fly It shoots in the sky But then it stops It starts to transform into a bird The pages turn into feathers The cover turns into a beak It flies right into a rainbow It turns red, orange, yellow, blue, indigo and violet Then it lands in water and floats away

WALL SECRETS Sophie Anderson Eagle Middle School What if you were a wall A wall that was between all secrets Secrets that could save lives Or hurt others. Unable to share the life-saving secrets You just stand there You do nothing but feel guilty. What if you found the secret The secret to a cure A cure for a million people The secret to stopping war Yet you are only a wall Unable to share what you know When what you know Could change the world.

SILVER RIVER Skylar Mobry Mary McPherson Elementary As a river you are ever changing, never still. Snow does nothing. You home the fish. The deer drink from you. You are not always blue, but silver in the moon. You shine with pride. You want to be a river? The silver river is ever changing, But you are loved by all!

THE MOON Jordan Segal White Pine Elementary The moon, white and glowing in the dark, so bright and warm in the winter night. The moon, so peaceful and quiet alone up there. The moon always watching and wondering, nobody really caring. The moon so sad and lonely and angry. The moon!

THE PERSPECTIVE OF EDGER Mike Ouwehand Eagle Middle School No one notices me. I sit and watch the cars go by. I watch people get to where they have to be. I sit and wait for someone to pick me up and take me home. But who am I kidding? I am a rock. Still, I wish to get up and do something, go to a restaurant, park, anywhere. I dream of the person who will help make it come true. A boy looks both ways, crosses the street, and runs to where I am on the sidewalk. He looks at me, turns, and walks away. I am just a rock. He turns back, comes over, and puts me in his pocket. I am not just a rock. I am a happy rock. I am Edger, the happy rock.

THE BAKER IN THE MEADOW: An Excerpt Emilie Eshbaugh Foothills School of Arts and Sciences CHOICE Program He stood among the blooming buds of happiness and let his misery shrink the flowers into death. His brow was furrowed with worry. His worn hand brushed his unshaven chin and his vision blurred as tears washed off the dirt and grime on his face. He just couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t go on anymore. The cliffs, the ocean, the sharp rocks that pointed menacingly toward a heaven he had longed for all of his life; all of it was so addictively terrifying. The Baker felt he had no choice.

RODNEY: An Excerpt Tyson Woods Seven Oaks Elementary School Rodney was sitting on his black leather couch watching T.V. He wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t exactly watching, he was just clicking though cartoons, the news, commercials and romance movies. When he stopped clicking he put down the Sony remote to watch. It was in the Amazon rainforest and it showed a rainbow parrot. It said that these parrots are becoming extinct. He sat up, grabbed his crutches and went to the red door. He turned the silver knob and grabbed his blue backpack. He went to his car, a Nissan truck, and got inside. He drove to the Boise Airport and got on a plane. It was an Alaska Airlines plane. He sat down, put on Skullcandy headphones and put on some music. Then he went to sleep. When he woke the plane was about to land. He grabbed his headphones and put them into his backpack. Just then the plane caught fire. Rodney sniffed the air. It smelled like burnt rubber. He started hearing a loud siren. Luckily he was by the exit door. He pulled on the door but it was locked.

THINGS WILL NEVER HAPPEN Bradie Garven Seven Oaks Elementary School Colorful like ice cream on a drowning rainbow. Pink like a pink marker that is wet. Blue like a person that is holding their breath, running like a super dog, like a blue sea swirling black in a tornado, like a brown bear having black bears. Yellow like breathing grass on the savannah, like eight seahorses jogging in mid-air.

MOI Alana Cronin Roosevelt Elementary I live under the sea with hair of pearl with eyes of gold my servants as dolphins and guards as eels. I have a wonderful world well not when I get angry because I create a tsunami no one could live through. I make fireballs and throw them into universes, but I am usually quite a pearl. I am Alana who has feelings, hopes and dreams.

THE ELF Nolan Hansen Mary McPherson Elementary An elf has little feet with wooden shoes that make him dance. An elf has hair that if you eat it you will be an elf. An elf has teeth that chatter when they want to bite someone. An elf has pointy ears. If you get poked by them, you will turn into a unicorn. An elf will chew on his old hairy leg to make himself grow. Elves pick flowers to fly. Elves will climb up bushy trees just to fall out and die. But they can come back to life as manly man-eating monsters, big hairy monsters. Elves have beards that you can pull a huge indoor arena out of.

FLICKER Julianna Weinert White Pine Elementary I have always been thought of as a speck of dust, but really I am a house nymph. I zip around the house unseen, helping out the mistress. Mistress Red Helm is her name. She is the only one who can see us nymphs. She is always nice, but she has never really talked to me. I want to be noticed. I was just summoned a day ago so I am about one centimeter tall today. I’ve got red hair and always wear leather hunting gear. I am the one who keeps the magic forest behind her first gateway safe and I feed her dragon Meakrix Redcrown. My name is Flicker just for that reason. I carry around a knife and a bow. That gives me an idea, I’m going to go hunt unicorn. Unicorn meat is a great prize. If I get it I will be remembered and rewarded so I run into the forest. It is silent. I creep around. Then suddenly I hear it, unicorn hooves! I whip out my bow, aim and shoot, and it hits square between the eyes. It is dead. I am alive. I did it. I skin it and run to Redhelm. She looks down and ses a unicorn skin, picks it up and sees me. She says, “Flicker! I have waited for you for a long time. Thank you.” Then there is a ceremony. She gets out a small glittering circle, a crown. Slowly and gently, she places it on my head. I am the queen of the nymphs. The leader. 39

HOW TO MAKE A PINK SHEEP ARMY Jaden Hawkes Mary McPherson Elementary Forget the normal sheep. Go get sheep of all colors. Go hire a sheep trainer. Expect hoof fights. Wait until they behave. Take them to Boston. Take over Boston. Be awesomely powerful. See the sheep get more sheep. Listen for a train so you and your army can jump on it. Drink lots of water. Make the army into super sheep by giving them a giant potion. Rule the world and then the galaxy and then the universe! Finally, give them a bath.

MR. EVEREST Emellia Doshier Eagle Middle School After a long day of running, you discover that your finger has grown into a mountain. Your doctor told you not to run, or else your finger would swell up and look like a mountain, but you refused to listen to him. You told him that you were going to run a marathon. Your finger throbs now and you are having regrets. Your doctor is mad at you and won’t return your calls. You call your lawyer. He doesn’t answer. You have to find another doctor. You aren’t sure what to do. You try to call your old doctor. Your new doctor ends up giving you ibuprofen. You take it and realize that you are allergic to ibuprofen. Your whole body grows into a mountain. No one can help you. You stay a mountain, and now people call you Mount Everest because that was your old doctor’s name.

1D v. 2P Jake Allen Eagle Middle School A music producer went to the mountains for inspiration. When he got there, he lost his pencil. While he looked for it, he was abducted by an alien mother ship. “Take us to your leader!” the aliens shouted in metallic voices. “I guess I could take you to my music company?” the producer said, and gave them directions. When they arrived at the studio, the music producer walked in casually and said, “You are my next big boy band, Two Paths.” The aliens went on to become the most famous boy band in the universe. One Direction tried to sue them for copyright infringement, but the aliens simply obliterated them with their rayguns.

A SINGLE TREE Ava Strand Seven Oaks Elementary School I am climbing and climbing until I am about to pass out. The prickly needles pierce me until I am ready to howl. The atmosphere grips my throat but I still climb, and finally there it is. The branch bursting with flora and fauna. I perch there and make melodies with robins and grin at the world below. A single tree can give me peace. Crack, Crick, Creech, please branch! Donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t fall! I guess I need a new branch now. The trees frosted with sugar like sea foam. Time for dessert.

AMAZEMENT Gracie Garringer Seven Oaks Elementary School Shock running though me like electricity A cloud sprinting away from the sun A hole in a blanket growing to be huge A mile wider than a rushing river Eyes growing bigger like a young tree becoming enormous A face as white as paper returning its original color A stone statue being able to move A volcanoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s lava devouring all in front of it A zebra running though a wet, dense rainforest A roseâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s thorn tearing skin Surprises that make jumping A ghost out of hiding Joy prancing in your heart as in mine A peacockâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s feathers painting rainbows in the sky An eye of two colors This is my amazement.

BACKWARDS Caleb Hart Mary McPherson Elementary I was at a wedding when a giant storm came by. The crystally diamond on the ring became coal. The coal then became tomato red, hot lava. The lava became rock. The rock then suddenly became chicken noodle soup. The chicken noodle soup became the chicken. The broth evaporated into a cloud. The cloud became dinosaur slobber. The dinosaur slobber became Travis. Travis became baby Travis. Baby Travis became a super tiny noodle.

HOW TO WRITE A POEM Gabe Becerra Mary McPherson Elementary First of all buy a journal and pen. Hold your pen like a rattlesnake tail. Write a story. Get angry and then eat it. Climb Mount Everest. Change your name. Hibernate in a cave until the bear scares you away. Meditate.

DEW Clara Smith White Pine Elementary Last night it rained in the meadow. This morning the sky is not yet blue. Now there is dew. It slips off the leaves and petals. Plip, plop, plip. Animals start to drink, for water is best mixed with a drop of the first ray of sunlight. The sky turns blue now, and I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t see it, but I hear the laughter of children, the flutter of butterfly wings. I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t see, for sight is as useless as television. I see a sight pleasing to the heart, not the eye.

HOW TO BE UNFORGIVABLE Livy Madsen Mary McPherson Elementary Forget how to escape. Go into every cell. Stay in a lion’s great cave. Expect to erupt from a thorn. Listen for the taste of sweet love. Make a violin sing. Be a caring hug. Drink from the cup of friendship. See the fog in the shackle keeping you from you. Wait, you’re amazing! Jump on a train.

RAIN STORM Sydney Hicks Seven Oaks Elementary School A rain storm is like an army of soft snakes, like a blue Golden Gate Bridge during rush hour, like the alphabet coming down on top of you, like thousands of glass windows breaking, like 60-year-old ladies at a 50% off yarn shop. It sounds as weird as 1000 birds. Sounds as loud as 100 slammed shut cabinets. You heard it, my idea of a rain storm. 49

SAND Aden Oâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;Brien Rose Hill Montessori School Powerful robust mountains fall to soft silky sand. The black volcanic sand cascades through lifeless deserts. It caresses over lush green forests full of royal blue and hot pink plants, and ladybugs of all colors and sizes to land on the crimson sunset lit beach. This is the black sand beach of New Zealand.

ME Annelise Jennings Roosevelt Elementary I am a piano. The soft swift sound and music comes from me. I am the spirit in a ghost the feeling, the floating. I am the deep color blue sapphire and oceanâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;the sky. I am yowls from a hungry bear cub looking for food. I am the shining snowflakes on the ground. I whisper to you. I am the time that goes by so quick. I am the morning mist and the frost on your window.

I amâ&#x20AC;Ś

MY FAMILY Priscilla Latimer Roosevelt Elementary My family is like an imaginary friend because they’re not there. They’re imaginary because their voices sound faint. It is just me in the wind. They’re imaginary because they leave. I’ll go home later.

HATE Luke Wilhite Eagle Middle School I punched my hate in a shed. My hate carried itself to bed. My hate has a messed up face. My hate is glad my fist isnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t mace. My hate had five terrible nightmares. My hate has no cares. My hate probably hates me right now, But here comes a cow, A colorful, happy joyous cow. My hate takes its fun. Now the cow does not feel great. Now the cow is full of hate.

FROM A DRAWING Bridget Brackney Seven Oaks Elementary School It is a beautiful day, when the rose dies. A lone rose dies alone. The sun beats down killing it. As it dies the flower petals fall, as if it were crying. The trees fall and the birds do not sing for the lone rose is dead. The people cry as the last silky red petal falls. Even the sun who killed it cries.

THE RETIREMENT HOME Gabriella Gonzalez Seven Oaks Elementary School I smell Doctor Alex cooking dinner. I taste the homemade spaghetti. I see my Grandpa Theran. I touch his old chair. I hear him laugh at my jokes. I also smell the old lady perfume. I also taste Grandpa Theranâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s 96th birthday cake. I see him happy. I touch him and try not to cry when I say bye. I can hear him crying. I can hear me crying at his funeral. I see them take him away. I touch him last. I can hear him cry. I smell the air, no, he is not there. I see he is not there and I cry. I saw him that day he died. I see him looking down on me. I smell his cologne. 55

PANGEA RETURNS Thomas Jarvis Rose Hill Montessori School North America becomes Canada, United States of America and Mexico. United States turns into 49, 48 and 47 states till just 13 colonies. The 13 colonies become nothing and just Indian tribes, tribes called Mohawk Spear 56

Buffalo Peace Pipe. Then all humans leave or seem to vanish with an ear deafening boom! All, every living thing gone into the dark brown mud of Earth. North America, Europe, Asia, Antarctica, Africa, South America,

all join in a streak of lightning followed by not thunder but music from an instrument like flutes with a chime. And an earthquake, not lava and sulfur, but love and peace spills from the light. And

sun become cold and dark but itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s quietly forming into Godâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s loving hands. All the work set to place and rest in a world of darkness in heaven. It.

MY DADâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;S BEARD Monty Rutland Seven Oaks Elementary School Prickly as a porcupine Rough as a chunk of iron Like a monkey screaming in your ear Like nails scraping down a chalkboard A crying baby biting your back Stiff like a steel rod Like an old rust ball Like a backpack full of sharp rickety nails slamming on your back Like the sharp corners of a deck of cards scraping across your face when he gives you a kiss A slug that always sleeps A bag of chips being crushed My dadâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s beard is all of these weird things, until he shaves.

TEACHING WRITERSâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; BIOGRAPHIES Amanda Bennett grew up in Connecticut. She double majored in chemistry and creative writing at Hamilton College in upstate New York. She received her MFA in fiction writing from Boise State University, where she now teaches composition and writing. Her most recent published work can be found in the Spring 2013 issue of Confrontation. She is currently working on a novel (of sorts) set in Portland, Oregon, and, of course, Connecticut. Amanda is the 2013 Writer-in-Residence at Foothills School for Arts and Sciences CHOICE Program and Eagle Middle School. Adrian Kien grew up in Elko, Nevada and Missoula, Montana. He received his MFA at Boise State University. He is the author of Look Up, a collaboration with the artist, Kelly Packer, The Caress is a Letter of Instruction (Strange Machine chapbook winner, 2011), An Anatomy Lesson, translations of Christian Prigent (Free Poetry, 2010) and Who is There (Blazevox, 2008). Adrian is the 2013 Writer-in-Residence at Mary 61

McPherson Elementary School, Rose Hill Montessori School, and White Pine Elementary School. Genna Kohlhardt was raised in Colorado and received her MFA in poetry from Boise State University, where she has been teaching various forms for writing for four years. She has also taught camps through The Cabin for three years and is currently in her first WITS residency. She is the co-editor of Goodmorning Menagerie chapbook press and you can find her work in Strange Machine, H_NGM_N and Fact-Simile. Genna is the 2013 Writer-in-Residence at Seven Oaks Elementary School.

ABOUT THE CABIN The Cabinâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s mission is to inspire and celebrate a love of reading, writing, and discourse throughout Idaho and the region. Each year, The Cabin serves about 750 members, more than 2,000 children and youth, and about 30,000 people through educational and cultural programs. Programs for young people are the largest part of The Cabinâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s work. The Cabin has transitioned from a young literary organization to a cultural anchor in Idaho and serves diverse constituencies through:

Readings & Conversations an annual lecture series featuring world-class authors.

Writers in the Schools (WITS) which places professional writers in classrooms across the state.

Idaho Writing Camps offering creative writing adventures for youth and adults.

Writers in the Attic an annual publication opportunity for local writers. Read Me Treasure Valley an invitation for the community to read the same book.

Literary activities such as visiting author workshops, readings by Idaho authors, and other programs for readers and writers of all ages.

CAMBIA Writers in the Schools 2013

SIDE B

CAMBIA Writers in the Schools 2013

SIDE B

CAMBIA Writers in the Schools 2013

SIDE B

We extend our thanks to the faculty and administration of:

Ada County Juvenile Detention Center, Canyon Springs High School, Cynthia Mann Elementary School, Foothills School of Arts and Sciences, Foothills School of Arts and Sciences CHOICE Program, Frank Church High School, Heritage Middle School, Marian Pritchett High School, Rolling Hills Charter School, Roosevelt Elementary School, Rose Hill Montessori School, Seven Oaks Elementary School, Southwest Idaho Juvenile Detention Center, and Victory Academy.

CONTENTS Introduction Index

• 1

• 3

STORIES & POEMS

• 7

Teaching Writers’ Biographies About The Cabin

• 51

• 49

INTRODUCTION There are few writers I know who are as brave, bold or creative as the writers you will meet in these pages. Whether they are turning screams into the Taj Mahal or sending continents into darkness, these writers are sharing their voice and their vision with audacity. I am new to The Cabin but in the few weeks that I have been here I have already been awed by the talent and passion expressed by our WITS students and teachers. But maybe you won’t be as awed as I was when I first read through these stories because you know these writers, these teachers and this Cabin. You know how talented and passionate they are. You know that Idaho is full of storytellers, monument makers, poets, life-changers and dream sharers. I’m learning and I’m so thankful to be a part of this team. — BRITT UDESEN Executive Director, The Cabin

INDEX (by first name) A

Alan • 44 Alija • 15 Antonio • 9

Hector • 29

Joey • 42 Jonathan • 31

Bailey • 35 Blake • 38 Brady • 14 Braxton • 24

Caleb • 32 Caleb B. • 27 Chance • 16 Cloe • 34

D Derek • 26 Destiny • 33

Katie • 20 Kirra • 23, 36

Lexi • 28 Luis • 19

M Mackenzie • 30 Maddy • 45 Maggie • 46

N Natasha • 12 Nathan • 18

O Olivia • 22

P Patrick • 43

R Rukia • 17

S Sallie • 40 Sarita • 11, 13

T Tennaya • 10

V Vika • 39 4

CAMBIA

EATING ARTICHOKES AND SMASHING VIOLINS Antonio Southwest Idaho Juvenile Detention Center I danced and kissed eating as many artichokes as I could. I saw a violin in the distance, heard the hammer-smash of strings and the sky fell to pieces. A leaf from the heavens dropped through a suspicious door. When I opened it, bubbles flew, more leaves, green sky and the clouds were fierce. I sank to my knees. I saw through a window the outside. It was going to be a good day.

LOST IN NOAH’S ARK Sarita Ada County Juvenile Detention Center Maybe I’ll be a marsupial, something I never had embraced in a pouch and never let go. I’m scared of it now. If every shooting star that brought me back to reality was only mine, where would I be? Lost in Noah’s Ark without a pair, what I still am. When I walk into the library, I don’t see you. I never see you anywhere anymore. I never did.

JOHN WAYNE Tennaya Canyon Springs High School At 15 I lived for freedom how a few minutes alone were like a new road stretching and looming like a wild cat over its prey. How it tasted like skittles. I lived for my grandpa who smelled like cedar and whiskey. How he held my hand when my grandma died. How he still tucks me in when I feel alone. I live for home for the smell of cedars for helping my granddad in the shop. How we sit in a dark room and watch John Wayne.

MY SECOND SCALY SKIN Sarita Ada County Juvenile Detention Center I deceived Adam and Eve with my charm and my lies. The tree of knowledge is my safe haven. I feel an itch tight in my skin squirming to break free from limitations. When the dark sun rises again I will be rubbed raw without scar or flaw. A new me will emerge and an egg will be smashed. When I swallow things they sit in my stomach unable to move. I swallowed a boulder, a heavy weight to carry. This strike is self-defense and my venom is intentional. 13

GRANDMA MARY Natasha Victory Academy With fire and flames she rose to heal her familyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s pain. She roamed streets and neighborhoods and even states to help them, but none of them were lost. They just didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t care. One night she came to a little house where someone was more than lost. Winter nights, sitting alone. I will never forget, the bright light in the fire, the phoenix beautiful and free.

MUSIC Alija Southwest Idaho Juvenile Detention Center Does the sound of music matter? Do dreams matter? Does a nut matter to a squirrel? Does my mom matter to me? Do I matter to my mother? What matters about life? Do tattoos matter? Do ears matter? Does your child matter to you? Do friends really matter? When the beat drops you feel no pain. Is anything the matter with me?

ONCE SAID Brady Canyon Springs High School I was born in grass fields. I made wild horses to travel across the land, and then tamed them. I traveled through the Wild West. I was faster than Jesse James and Billy the Kid. Moving East I became thirsty so I dug the Great Lakes. On lonely winter nights up north, I shaped clouds with colors and made the Northern Lights. At a bus stop in Alabama I taught a kid named Johnny to play guitar. I once gazed at a ship and thought of more. The next day the Titanic was built. I have been so angry that meteors have fallen from the sky. I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t feel bad for the dinosaurs. A man named Chuck once said he could punch with his chin. So I punched him with my mind.

THE OLD ME Rukia Marian Pritchett High School I was purple flashes and red petals, soft and smooth as rain. Blue sky and sand, I was the smell of afternoon of white moon and the sound of trees at the edge of a forest. I imagined salt water and single, yellow flowers. I’ve changed. Now I’m hard, cold, dark gray metal. I’m too busy with you, to be the old me.

THE FAKE TREE Chance Frank Church High School It is just my mom and I, no dad or brother no dad or brother walking in a blur, towards brown stairs. Towards brown stairs Step by step, more characters show more characters show a memory of a movie, no it’s real. no it’s real We are here again, now with a sister. now with a sister The blur is filled, it’s Disneyland. it’s Disneyland Here then, here now here now the great big fake Tarzan themed tree!

THE SLEEPING CIRCLE Luis Canyon Springs High School The stone hit the water and sounded like a knock on the door. Time in the desert makes you feel like you’re walking in circles. You have to splash the wind as if it were the river— My eyes circle into a bowl of sleep.

ROCKS ACROSS THE RIVER Nathan Victory Academy From across the river Words get translated Music is backwards A message about a war From long ago Leaves no one Because of the rocks Across the river

Age 10: I did my first back handspring on a mat for cheer and made the level 2 squad. Age 11: I led the IC3 Jags down the floor at our first competition in Orem, Utah. Age 12: I broke my growth plate trying to do a stunt and was told I wouldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t be able to play sports. Age 13: I tried out for lacrosse. Age 14: Freshman year, I made the varsity lacrosse team.

MY LIFE IN BITS AND PIECES Katie Southwest Idaho Juvenile Detention Center Age 1: My foster parents know how to make me smile. Age 2: I remember hearing the sound of the judge finalizing my adoption. Age 3: Falling out of the two-second-story window, Preston was there to catch me. I felt myself falling. Age 4: I flew to California, then Lima, Peru. Age 5: I thought I was Spiderman so I would duct tape my little hands and feet to the wall. Age 6: My first year at kindergarten, I had two best friends. Age 7: I started soccer and ended up running four laps around the track for talking. Age 8: I had a black cocker spaniel named Beauty. She wore a pink bow. Age 9: My brother was in a severe car accident. He quit wrestling and lost his scholarship.

POEM OF WHISPERS Kirra Canyon Springs High School A scarlet poem burns with cinders. Ripples of smoke kiss the night sky. Trembles spiral down and string together the whisper of chants. Trumpets dance in the music drowning with a violinâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s hiss. Bones break in the night, a flash of ribbon spiraling toward sleeping faces awaiting dawn. A book of stone broke the windows, opened the clouds, burst through the velvet wind. The clang of glass rings, shakes, opens umbrellas to swallow a rainy day. Purple fingers poke the eyes of fish, snap at music waving in the breeze ready to swallow tigers whole.

I INVENTED LOVE Olivia Marian Pritchett High School I was born on Mount Olympus. Who needs love? I invented love. My tears of childbirth made Niagara Falls. Strands of my hair fall and create threads of Egyptian silk. Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m beautiful and strong. My eyes are so blue the Greek goddess Aphrodite fainted in jealousy. My skin is so flawless even the most gorgeous star wants to be me. My breath is so chill, frost covers the leaves. My laugh calls all the birds to me. I smile and lightning strikes. I think of snowflakes on a hot day and it snows. When I cry a river forms. I gave my daughter her heart and she made it her own. She screams and from those screams the Taj Mahal is built. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s the two of us against the world. We made the world. 22

I remember when I was little, my grandmaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s dinners were better than going out to dinner. I remember my first real snowstorm. I pulled my sister with the fourwheeler. I remember not wearing socks and my grandma yelling that we were going to get pneumonia. I remember swimming and the feel of being in water.

CATCHING TOADS Braxton Southwest Idaho Juvenile Detention Center I remember my first tree house. My grandpa built it for my birthday. I remember when I cooked my first egg. It didn’t look edible. I remember the first day of school. I cried. I didn’t want to eat breakfast. I didn’t want to catch the bus. I remember sleeping in front of the furnace at my grandma’s house. I remember her apple pie. Now I don’t even like apple pie. I remember my first two dogs. My grandma ran them over. I remember playing with matches. I remember my grandparents’ backyard. I would take flashlights out and hunt for toads. I remember my first and only dirt bike. I popped the clutch and ran into the garage wall. I remember, on my grandma’s farm, we would get chicken eggs to cook for breakfast. We took them from right under the chicken. I remember the last time I drove a car. We broke down in the middle of a storm and were stuck for three hours.

LYING IN A BED Caleb B. Frank Church High School Lying in a bed Hours on end Legs shaking and heart rate dropping A constant beep Slowly lowering Deep blue eyes turning dark Just you and me Now Just me

UNDERNEATH Derek Ada County Juvenile Detention Center Sitting atop a stump in the ancient woods, the moonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s silver smile touches all things. Silence, but not silent all creatures being almost, feeling life in my fingers. Salty sea air swirls the sounds of all the things underneath.

LIKE THE LATE NIGHT SKY Hector Canyon Springs High School Fear. Pitch black in an empty room with nothing to see or no one is even there. It feels like only you and your conscience, black like the late night sky like a slowly moving car. It happens when someone you love is in danger, when I open my eyes and the thick, green water surrounds me, when you feel like youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re floating in mid-air with your feet off the concrete. It sounds like the rhythm of your heart beating, like an explosion, like non-stop sirens. Fear smells like hard breathing, like smoke, like the smell of fresh water. Fear.

LEXI IS Lexi Marian Pritchett High School Lexi thinks too much. Thinks deeply. Thinks about herself and others. Lexi has no filter. Lexi has a kind heart. Just doesn’t walk around with a smile on her face. Lexi is a jokester. She likes to make people laugh. Lexi was abandoned. She doesn’t trust many people. Lexi is in a relationship with Kosmo the Victorious. Lexi will be 17 in May. Lexi weighs 160 pounds and is five foot two inches tall. Lexi is expressive. Lexi is an addict. A victim of social media. Lexi speaks her mind. Lexi gets lost. Lost in her own thoughts. Lexi believes she will be somebody someday. Lexi loves the smell of warm skin. Lexi worries a lot. Lexi thinks it’s cool that our president is black. Lexi likes to dance. Lexi believes in forgiveness. Lexi has been broken and put back together. Lexi isn’t perfect. Lexi is human. Lexi tries to please everyone and keep the peace, but her uncensored mouth and irrational thinking are ahead of her. Lexi’s tired. Ready to start her journey. Her journey to adulthood. Lexi B. accepted your friend request.

I MADE THAT Jonathan Southwest Idaho Juvenile Detention Center I was born in a puff of white clouds above the hills of Los Angeles. I sat with Jesus and looked down at the city as if we were watching T.V. It was hot, so I stretched my wings and flew around the city. I flapped them twice and created wind. When I spun around, a tornado appeared. When the world was dark, I opened my eyes and gave it light. I cried and my tears formed oceans. I wished for it, and it became real.

LOOK AROUND Mackenzie Victory Academy Everything nailed to the floor A wood chair, centered Orange walls, dark brown floor A carpet full of stains I abhor A window, all panes are grey “She Looks to Me” on the radio A book on the floor, half read Six string stick in the corner Weeping, but only the ears cry

DID I FORGET TO LIE IN THE GRASS Destiny Frank Church High School Did I forget to lie in the grass? To watch the sunset? I think to myself? Where does the sun go? The remains of a dandelion scatter to the surface. Do they land on the grass or do they perch in the tree? How do the roots seep into the ground? Is it for strength? The tree protects us, gives us Oxygen. Why do they want to cut down our forests? Why canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t we save the trees, water them with roses, make peace in our veins? Do we all want an endless recipe for salvation? Do you even know why the sky that I watch acts like a mood ring? I wonder does it rise like it sets?

HOME Caleb Ada County Juvenile Detention Center Driving through the desert Lost in the night Flat darkness for miles Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s just my mom and me Driving toward the lights. Hills in the distance Blocking out the glow Flat turns to hill climb Lights illuminate the valley A familiar feeling of stress and despair. Pain and pollution fills the air A few miles earlier we were careless. Now back in the atmosphere I had forgotten why we left, but once again itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s clear. We can run for years But we always end up here.

LIVE IN PEACE Bailey Canyon Springs High School I want long, flowing hair that goes down to my feet. I don’t want to be stuck in a Potato State for the rest of my life. I want to be happy and outgoing and leave behind my quiet, shy ways. I don’t want to be tired all the time and sleep life away. I want to jump in the clouds and be surrounded by bliss. I don’t want to be poor anymore and so picky of everything. I want to dream of a time before all the rain. I don’t want to envy anyone or hate again. I want to love everyone, have hope for better days and live in peace for the rest of my life.

CARSON Cloe Marian Pritchett High School Carson with eyes the color of root beer Carson with uneven features and alligator skin Carson whose name is called out too often in a silent classroom A boy whoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s worried mind twists images of the dark Who crawls under a cloud of duvet and prattles on with his dramatic hands About things that only make sense to him Carson, slayer of the dead and the undead The boy who remains unchosen for muddy football at every recess Carson, the half bacon eater, stares off into an empty pasture of fallen snow.

Saying goodbye to my fluffy cat, wishing the dog next door would go away and never come back Thinking life is great, then cops came Squeezing through tiny fence gaps and trying not to get bit by the meanest dog in town Getting medication for unknown sadness, tasting chalk daily Getting dinner started, chicken smelling oddly like fish and eggs Sleeping with my cats on my face and the smell of chocolate in the air Fighting with my mother, wishing I hadnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t

AUTOBIOGRAPHY Kirra Canyon Springs High School Spilling spaghetti all over my little sun dress Waving goodbye to my grandma after getting scared of the dark Carrying my rainbow blanket and my one-eared bunny down the walkway Holding my sister’s hand while eating ice cream, messy fingers Laughing with my father at the faces he makes Playing zombies with the boy next door, a clumsy little toddler Getting my fingers smashed by a hammer, crushing pebbles with childhood stupidity Riding my bike, playing cars with friends Kissing my mom goodnight after dinner while my sister put the compression socks on my mother’s feet Kicking teens’ shins because they picked on me for my clothes

CAR Vika Frank Church High School It moves and breathes and even talks. It hums, it roars and tells you what it wants. We give the car many names: Honda, Chevy, Corvette. It burns its fuel, it’s always ready to go. It sits there waiting for your attention. It becomes a part of your life and soon even your family. You depend on it. You can’t live without it. But there will come a day when it won’t wake up and you will be sad. You will get a new one and it too will become a part of the old one. From time to time you will remember your old friend even see its ghost.

DESOLATE Blake Ada County Juvenile Detention Center The outline of a city in the graying, charcoal sky. The city, still and silent, as it slowly crumbles to the depths below. Looking for movement, and listening for life beyond this desolate mind, he waits.

The twilight of a Japanese garden The sleepless soul again Waves soothing a lullaby. A refugeeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s camp On a bench in the park of Boise I havenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t slept in my dreams.

THE MIDDLE OF THE LAKE, FLOATING ON AIR Based on Kerri Websterâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s poem, Places I Havenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t Slept Sallie Marian Pritchett High School An airplane In the splash display of the red and blue of Sin City In the middle of the lake, floating on air On the roof of the deserted house in town. A train With the penguins, on the frozen field of ice in Antarctica In the reality of Dean Koontz, the horror and suspense of just one night In the WalMart with Natalie Portman. Too numb to relax in the dense fog of the room With the drip of my IV on the hard and never-comfortable hospital bed The boom and crash of a thunderstorm Clinging to the golden stuffed animal on my bed.

CRASHING ON THE FRONT OF ABSTRACT REALITY Patrick Frank Church High School As of right now, tomorrow, the past is everything as well as nothing. The present and future as well. Take a mental picture and study this. It is necessary. Letâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s look to the future in search of yesterdayâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s answers to the questions we have today. I dare not define what is an abstract symbol of reference. Perception does this for me. So somewhere in a different dimension, nowhere near our own, a similar universe runs on this conception of something that is all relevant and relative to the physical properties of the mirror, of the mind.

SNOWSTORM Joey Ada County Juvenile Detention Center The sparrow flutters and flashes through the crisp dawn air, constantly changing directions, carving a winding path, cutting the air with the blade of its wing. Dipping and diving through familiar branches, the rush of its feathery presence ever so slightly brushes the layers of settled snow off the spiny, knotted branches leaving them ticking like a wildly disfigured metronome. A contrast to the dead stillness of the harmony between the pale slate-gray sky and where it touches the horizon. The cold grasp of the claws visits many familiesâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; perches, each with a different view of the surrounding trees and ground. The bird speculates the branch, turning its head with a tick-like cocking, inspecting the fingerling tree, and then, without warning, takes flight.

HERE Maddy Marian Pritchett High School Here in the room of my life, out my window colors change, leaves fall, it looks different. The wood on the walls starts to get eaten away as years go by. Paint fades pictures change things get rearranged, added, and taken out. Everything gets transported to a new room. Freshly painted new walls, that single bed became a king size. A baby crib gets added on. The room grows full and crowded with newly added things.

KNOBS Alan Frank Church High School Doorknobs are small, but a big help to us. Without them doors would not open politely. We must feel bad for them. They take the most crap such as hands that have not been washed. Those hands that touch the stuff, that touch and smother the nose. Those hands that touch everything, some may be sticky, some slimy, but most are dry, yet never clean.

WALKING ON SUNSHINE Maggie Frank Church High School Turning the black to different shades of red orange yellow green blue and purple. Giving life to the trees and the animals and the world. 93 million miles away, and it lights the whole solar system, forces sweat to seep from pores and drip down your cheeks. With a surface temperature of 9,944 degrees and a core temperature of 24,479,540 degrees it never moves from one spot. Making visible the moon and from there the earth. It’s the reason we sleep and wake. It’s the reason we breathe. It’s the reason we exist. Without the sun, there would be nothing.

TEACHING WRITERS’ BIOGRAPHIES Malia Collins first children’s book, Pele and Poliahu, A Tale of Fire and Ice won a 2006 Ka Palapala Po’okela Award for Excellence in Children’s Hawaiian Culture. Her second book, Santa’s Hawaiian Holiday, was a best seller. She is a teaching artist with the Idaho Commission on the Arts and is currently at work on her third children’s book. Malia is the 2013 Writer-in-Residence at Canyon Springs High School, Southwest Idaho Juvenile Detention Center, and Marian Pritchett High School. Daniel Stewart, a teaching-writer for The Cabin’s Writers in the Schools and Summer Writing Camps Programs since 1999, is the author of a collection of poems, The Imaginary World. A variety of print and online publications have featured his poems, most recently Prairie Schooner, Skidrow Penthouse, Educe, and Thrush Poetry Journal. Danny is the 2013 Writer-in-Residence at Ada County Juvenile Detention and Frank Church High School. 49

Readings & Conversations an annual lecture series featuring world-class authors.

Writers in the Schools (WITS) which places professional writers in classrooms across the state.

Idaho Writing Camps offering creative writing adventures for youth and adults.

Kerri Webster is the author of two books of poems, Grand & Arsenal (University of Iowa, 2012) and We Do Not Eat Our Hearts Alone (University of Georgia, 2005), and is the recipient of a 2011 Whiting Award. Kerri is the 2013 Writer-in-Residence at Victory Academy.

Writers in the Attic an annual publication opportunity for local writers. Read Me Treasure Valley an invitation for the community to read the same book.

Literary activities such as visiting author workshops, readings by Idaho authors, and other programs for readers and writers of all ages.