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Sink Hollow

Issue XI

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Letter from the Editor I’m sure I’ll be repeating the sentiments of most everyone when I say that this last year has been one of the worst of my life. The artists and the poets in this semester’s issue have beautifully represented the loneliness and the anxious overthinking that it comes with. But there is always a vibrance to life, even in the worst of its moments. It may seem distant, dimmed, but it may just be rising over the horizon to meet you if you are willing to be patient and look for it yourself. The staff members and the advisors alike all have my deepest gratitude for the effort and the love they put into this magazine. Everyone on staff rallied together despite facing, at best, uncertain odds, and they were able to showcase an outstanding issue for Sink Hollow. This is my final editor’s note before I graduate. The time I spent on Sink Hollow’s staff has changed me for the better. I am sad to leave it, but I am glad to leave it in such good hands. As you read this issue, I hope you all see that you are not alone and that, no matter how dark it may seem, there may yet be light just around the corner. Daxton Glover Editor in Chief

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CONTENTS Shine

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Al is on Thomas

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T h e S w a l l o w’s Ne s t John G af fe y

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Yo u L o o k F a m i l i a r Ju li a Reising

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“La Luna y El Hacedor” 7 Ti anjun L i

withered

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Aliesha C a ldwel l

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Never Neverland Genevieve Clark

eyeballs

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Reb e cc a Nark insky

IMG_7688_1

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Aliesha C a ldwel l

Mushrooms

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Joh n G af fe y

2745Final

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Aliesha C a ldwel l

After-Noon Thought

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Ju li a Reising

Uncouth

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Veronic a Nat ion

Next Generation

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Mel anie Mena

Cornered

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Mel anie Mena

collage-2_gvZPz5tn_2

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Kait ly n Whate y

H e a d _ To o _ F u l l

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Kate Stu ar t

Missed Call

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Nat assj a Nor wo o d

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a god a devil and me

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C olten McC ab e

a god a devil and me (2nd variant)

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C olten McC ab e

ARTIST SPOTLIGHT

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Anni ka C ar ter

AC_Solitude_1

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Anni ka C ar ter

AC_Solitude_3

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Anni ka C ar ter

AC_Solitude_2

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Anni ka C ar ter

Ponderosa

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Z o e Wi ls on

Wr in k l e s o f D e c ay

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Kate Stu ar t

i d o n’ t w a n t t o l o s e y o u

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C olten McC ab e

i d o n’ t w a n t t o l o s e y o u ( 2 n d v a r i a n t )

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C olten McC ab e

i d o n’ t w a n t t o l o s e y o u ( 3 r d v a r i a n t ) C olten McC ab e

Ta b l e f o r Tw o

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Er ic Suchy

Deep Red

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Er ic Suchy

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7AM Omelet Aliesha C a ldwel l

unnamed_6

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Kait ly n Whate y

“La Luna y El Hacedor” 2

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Ti anjun L i

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A RT I ST SP OT L IG H T Ti anjun L i

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“La Luna y El Hacedor” 1 Ti anjun L i

Something about Soulmates or Loneliness or W h y I D i d n’ t Jo i n t h e B a n d

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Niina D ubi k

“La Luna y El Hacedor” 4

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Ti anjun L i

“La Luna y El Hacedor” 8

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Ti anjun L i

“La Luna y El Hacedor” 12

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Ti anjun L i

“La Luna y El Hacedor” 3

Cover Art

Ti anjun L i

Growing Old

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Z o e Wi ls on

On the Horizon

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Ju li a Reising

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BIOGRAPHIES

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Shine Alis on Thomas

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T h e Sw a l l o w’s Ne s t John Gaffey

Lying askew on a grey rock wall Is a swallow’s nest. Dislodged on a June Holiday, The boule of straw and spit Keeps three granite speckled eggs. One alone moves. Shell cracked open By curious fingers. Motherless, A blind beak Reaches out, Gasping, Silent.

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withered Aliesha C a ldwel l page 7

Yo u L o o k F a m i l i a r Ju li a Reising

previous page

“La Luna y El Hacedor” 7 Ti anjun L i

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Never Neverland Genevieve Clark

I still dream of flight and sometimes falling. I was in love with Peter Pan when I was five. I would only sleep in delicate, flower-patterned Nightdresses while fairy houses withered Under the rose bush outside. Dreaming of flight was not enough. I knew the way: second star To the right, straight on till morning. My babysitter, thinking we were playing, Helped me construct wings out of paper and glue. Later that night, I threw myself down the stairs. My mother sobbed; my father threw the wings In the dumpster. “It wasn’t high enough,” I explained. “That’s why it didn’t work.” They locked my window and put a Baby gate on the stairs. In the corners of the school yard, I scaled the jungle gym, trees, swing sets. I did not jump. I was biding my time. I want to fly so bad. There’s a massive tree at this garden party. There’s a platform in the tree, A silvery line running across the back yard And the boys scale the rope ladder to ride The line down, legs swinging in the open air. My mother is talking to a woman wearing a blouse Airy and puffy as a pastry. “Mommy, I want To zip line.” Her eyes scale twenty feet up. “No.” 12


I want to fly so bad. She disappears in a swell of pastel And I lose my t-strap heels With the rhinestones, hitch up the tulle skirt, And climb the ladder to the platform. Everything spreads below me; hollering boys, The fountain gurgling in the corner of the yard. The stop sign at the corner of the street, into Windows, where my mother is discovering My discarded shoes. This time it would work. My fingers meet cold metal and my mother chants, “No, no, no!” as my grubby little hands lose their grip and for five sickening seconds, I fly.

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eyeballs Reb e cc a Nark insky

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IMG_7688_1 Aliesha C a ldwel l

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Mushrooms John Gaffey

She shivers in revulsion. How could you eat such shit? I look inside my bowl. At porcini heads and salt. They’ll eat me too one day, There’s no harm to give them reason.

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2745Final Aliesha C a ldwel l

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Uncouth Ve r o n i c a N a t i o n

Dust of drab gray wings fluttering under dying dim dinner lights: summer season signals a reminder of that loss of a moth-hater who pulled knees up to chest and covered eyes with dry hands, who watched those small, ugly bodies writhe in blind frustration, who only unfolded after each moth was pulled into a vacuum-tomb, whose long hair became a tangled nest of a home for unwanted night-bugs, who began every summer waiting for moths to break their wings.

previous page

After-Noon Thought Ju li a Reising

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Cornered Mel anie Mena

previous page

Next Generation Mel anie Mena

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collage-2_gvZPz5tn_2 Kait ly n Whate y

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H e a d To o F u l l Kate Stu ar t

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Missed Call Natassja Norwood

I called my dad and asked him how to make cold brew coffee Because I knew the conversation would last longer than If I had told him I loved him.

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a god a devil and me C olten McC ab e

a god a devil and me (2nd variant) C olten McC ab e

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Artist Spotlight Annika Carter

My art practice focuses primarily on graphic design and photography. Although my work varies quite a bit from piece to piece, it has an overall focus on cleanliness and simplicity both in overall composition and color. I tend towards limited color palettes in muted/pastel shades or simply black and white. This collection of images I refer to interchangeably as Solitude or Big Places, Small People. This has been my favorite style of photography in recent years; a figure turned away, being embraced or swallowed by the landscape. There’s something quiet and mysterious in them that must come in part from the figures not knowing I’m there.

AC_solitude1 Page 25

AC_solitude3 Page 26

AC_solitude2 Page 27

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Ponderosa Zoe Wilson

I thought not of quiet or of dying but of the ponderosa pine which had fallen lengthwise over my trail. With it fell my reluctance to bend inward where now I reside to think of the purple-gray bark that smells sweet of vanilla. The tree’s branches were empty of needles, like the ribs of a great gray whale plucked clean by scavengers. I cannot explain it—how the ponderosa pine gave license to suspend the edge of becoming at which I found myself. The deferral of my choices harbored momentarily in bark that could be bone. I remembered then, that the ponderosa had not avoided the mark of gravity, but fallen. And when it did, I imagine it sounded reluctantly like courage.

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Wr i n k l e s o f D e c a y Kate Stu ar t

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i d o n’ t w a n t t o l o s e y o u C olten McC ab e

i d o n’ t w a n t t o l o s e y o u ( 2 n d v a r i a n t ) C olten McC ab e

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i d o n’ t w a n t t o l o s e y o u ( 3 r d v a r i a n t ) C olten McC ab e

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Ta b l e f o r T w o Er ic Suchy

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Deep Red Er ic Suchy

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7am Omelet Audrey Fatone

egg runs down sizzles on the iron a fleck of hot olive oil twinges my skin a thin layer of processed protein hugs the farm-raised lox and the farm-raised feta cheese I am starting to dread mornings, your begs for sex so, I wake before you and bury myself into your breakfast I crack every single egg in the carton I peel every single clementine in the wire basket maybe it is impossible to love without using your hands I rinse the grease from my fingertips I let the water run my stomach used to growl at the prospect of breakfast but now 36


I take a Nutri-grain bar to-go I let the rolled oats and pectin inch down my esophagus and my gut is full

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unnamed_6 Kait ly n Whate y

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Artist Spotlight Tianjun Li

“La Luna y El Hacedor”7 Page 10

“La Luna y El Hacedor”2 Page 39

“La Luna y El Hacedor”1 Page 41

“La Luna y El Hacedor”4 Page 43

“La Luna y El Hacedor”8 Page 44

“La Luna y El Hacedor”3 C over Ar t

“La Luna y El Hacedor”12 Page 45

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Something about Soulmates o r W h y I D i d n’ t J o i n a B a n d Audrey Fatone

In another life I crack my head slipping on spilt water on the kitchen floor and I’m lying, dying, as I bleed out on the greasy linoleum. In another life it’s not so dramatic. I simply slip, and the fall hurts. But I’ll live. I’ll get up. Go check on my eggs, still frying on the stove. In another life I’m not in the kitchen at all because I’ve dropped out of university to play guitar in a garage band and I’m travelling across the country in a shitty van, trying to get by on passion alone. In another life I’ve already met you so my loneliness no longer keeps me awake and I’m safe and sound in bed, not driving around in a cramped van or frying eggs at 2:00 am. But in this life, I do not fall when I slip on the water. I simply wobble, then right myself, and think of what could have been. In this life I don’t know if I’ll ever meet you. And it is this thought that keeps me awake as my eggs burn and I spill my water and I wonder late into the night.

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Growing Old Zoe Wilson

Monday afternoon in the sunroom in the green-backed chair where he sat like the others. I noticed, then how he held his cup, a bit differently. As conversation overlapped: tides, a tree had fallen, property lines, the field. His focus—appeared directed at withstanding the earth’s pull on him. When he smiled. It was almost painful. Finally, they rose, to make their way through many rooms, on planked pine floors. He too, rose, dutiful. Eyes privy to the meaning of laughter. Slow, a step behind the others, not too apologetic. He tucked his tremoring hands farther into the pockets of the red down coat, as if before a crossing over. Like one, who in a moment might slip out the back door into the field with light rebounding off tall bunches of frozen grass.

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On the Horizon Ju li a Reising

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BIOS Aliesha Caldwell is a third-year Fine Arts major at the University of Cincinnati's DAAP (School of Design, Architecture, Art, and Planning). She mainly works in oils and creates surrealist dreamscapes with ties to her personal life.

Annika Carter is a student at the University of Wisconsin-Madison pursuing a

degree in Graphic Design. Beyond academia, Annika experiments with multiple medias and particularly likes photography. She believes photography opens her to seeing the emotional tug of imagery in her surroundings. Annika hopes to capture it to share with others.

Genevieve Clark is a sophomore Creative Writing major at Agnes Scott College. When she is not reading or writing, she can be found listening to true crime podcasts and crocheting. Someday, she aspires to be a successful enough author to provide for her cat, Freddie.

John Gaffey is an Irish poet studying writing at the National University of Ireland Galway in the west of Ireland. His poetry focuses on the apathetic observance of the past, present and doubtful future.

Audrey Fatone (she/her) is a senior at SUNY-College of Environmental Science

and Forestry, where she studies Environmental Biology. She is a proud plant mom and avid hiker. Her work has also appeared in Unearthed and The Voices Project.

Melanie Mena is an undergraduate at California State University Monterey Bay. Mena enjoys portraying the inner conflicts that people face and displaying these conflicts with eerie undertones.

Colten McCabe is an undergraduate student at Bluffton University. He enjoys taking pictures of the moon, creative writing and playing with his two Great Danes.

Veronica Nation is an undergraduate Creative Writing major at the University of Colorado Denver. When she is not writing, she is drinking an absurd amount of iced coffee and working on her digital art.

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Rebecca Narkisnky currently attends Radford University and is getting her degree in art education. She specializes in multimedia work.

A junior at the University of Minnesota Twin-Cities, Julia Reising is an interdisciplinary artist that works with salvaged and reimagined architectural features to approach an understanding of the home. In her free time, Julia enjoys collecting rocks, literature, and internet objects.

Kate Stuart is a freshman at Utah State University. She believes the wind and rainy weather is a lovely gift just for her.

Erik Suchy is an undergraduate student at Metropolitan State University in St.

Paul, Minnesota. He loves writing genre fiction, creating digital art, and taking photographs of all the greatness that his home state has to offer.

Alison Thomas is a senior at CSU Monterey Bay majoring in Visual & Public Art. Alison developed her artistic perspectives growing up in Morgan Hill, CA and Kihei, HI. She is applying to grad school in the hopes of advancing her skills as an artist, and growing connections to her community. Her socially engaged art installations broach topics of darkness & light, consciousness, and the duality of the human spirit.

Li Tianjun (Timjune) has been exploring the diversity and creativity of photog-

raphy and attempting to create a new visual dimension between reality and illusion. Li’s art practice currently focuses on the possibility of coexistence of multifarious photographic subjects in both nature and human. In Li’s images, a new visual order was formed by superimposing, reorganizing, and intermingling various objects. Tianjun Li has cooperated with many famous artists from different parts of the world and his works have been exhibited successfully worldwide. He’s an officially recommended photographer on many platforms such as 500px and Tuchong, and his works was published on Art&Fashion magazines worldwide. He was a selected artist in BOBOSNAP Young Power Project and Tree Art Museum “Stars Project 2021”. He is also one of the youngest artists to hold a solo exhibition in South China.

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Niina Tsuyuki Dubik is a student at the University of Manitoba. Her poetry has appeared in Boston Accent Lit, The Bitchin’ Kitsch, Ink in Thirds, and BALLOONS Lit Journal. She is currently pursuing a major in microbiology and enjoys writing in her free time.

Katie Whatley is a sophomore at Louisiana State University in Baton Rouge pursuing a BA in Political Science with a minor in Painting & Drawing. Her work has been featured in a number of art shows in her hometown in Florida.

Zoe Wilson is currently an undergraduate student at Bowdoin College. Zoe grew up in Missoula, Montana and has lived most recently in Ljubljana, Slovenia.

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E ditor in Chi e f

S TA F F

Daxton Glover

Manag ing E ditor Dara Lusk

G e nre E ditor s

Stephanie Pointer--Poetry Jay Paine--Co-Editor Poetry McKayla Jex Beauchamp--Co-Editor Poetry Alexandria Jensen--Co-Editor Poetry Jordan Forest--Nonfiction Anne Schill--Fiction

Fi c ti on Team

Madison Harris Dara Lusk Deren Bott Madeline Mortensen Lexie Keller

Nonf i c ti on Team Mya Bethers Sandra Edwards Janae Ollerton Ky l e r To l m a n K e e g a n Wa l l e r

Po etr y

Jay Paine Isabelle Scott Jenni Cooper Hannah Lee McKayla Jex Beauchamp Alexandria Jensen Stefani McClanahan Claire Atwood Daxton Glover

Fac ult y Adv i s or s

Amber Caron--Fiction Anne Stark--Fiction Shanan Ballam--Poetry Russ Beck--Nonfiction Robb Kunz--Art and Design

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Profile for Sink Hollow Undergraduate Literary Journal

Sink Hollow Issue XI  

Sink Hollow Issue XI  

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