Encounters Spring 2007
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Encounters Spring 2007 I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going “ over. Out on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can’t see from the center. −Kurt Vonnegut 1922-2007” © Encounters 2007 Baruch College, CUNY letterfrom the editor The amount of work and dedication put into this publication is reflected in the quality of the works we have this semester. In this issue, you will read themes that range from the most common feelings of love and hate to the deep, dark desires from the underside of human nature, and even something about a ninja’s compulsive buying habits. The art submissions were nothing less than impressive. Our extended art galleries feature great pieces, from black and white photography to charcoal sketches and blown glass. However, I have to admit I was terrified of taking over as editor-in-chief of Encounters. I had immense shoes to fill and only an idea of where to start. But I had the help from my good friend and self-proclaimed editor-in-chief emeritus, Dov Gibor. His guidance and involvement in the production of this magazine from beginning to end was invaluable. In his last letter from the editor, Dov wrote that he was not scared about Encounters’ future. He said that I would have many things learn, but that Encounters is a great place to learn them — I could not have said it better. Leading this team has been one of the greatest lessons I learned at Baruch, though it was far from the easiest. I had the support of my great managing editor, Dmitry Omelyanenko, who went above and beyond his editing and managerial duties, leading our large — and still growing — team of editors. I also appreciate the dedication of my art directors, Edward Drakhlis and Dustin Winegar, who literally did not sleep until this issue was completed. I would like to thank my staff and friends for their dedication, which made my last semester so enjoyable, with great company and good laughs. I hope this issue gives you some insights, whether it is from a poem, a short story or a series of photographs. So read on! Thank you, Natalia Diaz Editor-in-chief ii special thanksstaff Editor-in-Chief Special Thanks Natalia Diaz Prof. Roslyn A. Bernstein Managing Editor Ronald Aaron Dmitry Omelyanenko Vice President of Student Development Business Manager Maria Dorfman Luz Rodriguez Assistant Director, Student Life Creative Director Edward Drakhlis Carl Aylman Student Life Director Junior Creative Director Dustin Winegar Sakina Williams Coordinator, Evening Student Fiction Editors Services Maria Bardina Jacqueline Chancer Traci Espinet-Marquez Susana Gomez Macintosh Specialist/Webmaster Frank Marzullo Mark Kurlansky Poetry Editors Harman Writer-in-Residence Molly Felth Jana Kasperkevic Dr. Sidney Harman Andy Lawler Distinguished Alumnus Erica Schoonmaker Barbara Harman Copy Editors Executive Director of the David deLeon Harman Family Foundation Lauren Loeffel Shelley Ng Prof. Paula Berggren Heather Schultz The English Department Editor-in-Chief Emeritus Dov Gibor HighRoad Press Cover Design The Baruch faculty, “Beneath the Surface” staff and administration Bogdan Matuszczak who support our efforts Spring ’07 Cover Contest Winner All the readers of Encounters. iii For Piñero . 1 Stefan Malliet Spiked Collar . 2 Adrienne Rayski Exhaustion . 3 Jana Kasperkevic Cheesecakes . 4 Ken Tsé Borderline . 9 Dmitry Omelyanenko Gallery I . 11 Heroin Saints . 27 Johan Guzman The (Il)Logic of Love . 29 Dorin Rosenshine The Pen Swings in Pendulum Rhythms . 34 Igor Gorodetskiy Abuse . 35 Yvonne Erazo Summertime Executions . 36 Angela Melamud Heartbeat . 37 Erica Shoonmaker I am from Arizona (or Dustin’s Inferno) . 38 Dustin Winegar Buyer Beware . 39 Stefan Malliet Platform . 40 Lisa Chien The Duel . 41 Dmitry Omelyanenko You Water a Plant . 42 Igor Gorodetskiy Would Tight, Getting Pumped . 43 Frank Marzullo Gallery II . 47 iv oftable contents Monet’s Lemons . 64 Claudia Martinez Pardon . 65 Andrew Park Womb . 66 Robert Moran Sunflower . 67 Jana Kasperkevic Of Delis and Dweebs . 68 Frank Marzullo Flirtation . 69 Abra Morawiec Star Dance . 70 Erica Schoonmaker Midnight Thief . 71 Anna Medyukh Blood in the Flowers . 72 Robert Moran Salvation . 73 Adrienne Rayski I See the Wind . 74 Dmitry Omelyanenko What Are You Searching For? . 75 Lisa Chien For the Love of Coffee . 76 Yvonne Erazo A Sterling Record . 77 Molly Felth Bella Amazon . 79 Vanessa Strachan Fall 2006 Harman Student Creative Writing, First Place A Regular Customer . 90 Mark Atkins Fall 2006 Harman Student Creative Writing, Second Place Silent James Dolan . 99 Bhuwen Gadtaula Fall 2006 Harman Student Creative Writing, Third Place v vi fiction poetryart FOR PIÑERO Stefan Malliet la bodega is still selling dreams little nickel bags of futures picking Big Red Apple numbers countless papis, nameless mamis store kittens and children in the aisles among the beans and over-priced bags of azúcar la bodega, still selling dreams on every corner from sunrise highway to midwood, to sunset park bedford to broadway ¡baila mami! baila conmigo mi candy mami ¿como se dice “newports” en boricua? la bodega is still selling dreams veinte in a pack for 65¢ off ¡bachata! in the cookie aisle with the store owner’s wife ¡¡AZÚCAR!! la bodega is still selling dreams four for a dollar en pequeño bags half full of air la bodega’s dreams are only COBBLE WOBBLE half-empty or Victor Chu half-full depending on which corner you stand on 1 THE SP IKED COLLAR Adrienne Rayski They say it’s ironic to put A spiked collar On a half Chihuahua, half Who-knows-what. Sterling silver spikes Barely ward off teacup furballs. The rough, pointed edges warn: “Proceed with caution” Yet, melting into sleek black All but the very last notch is Left open, fitting loosely. Rugged, swaying metal clanks Against the tough exterior, Dancing to A sudden rush of wind Or a pat on the head Attracting sticky slobber from the Spotted chestnut neighbor In a hot pink, rhinestone-studded SE LLAMA LAREN MA tt ZA Collar. Gustavo Mattza 2 fiction poetryart EXHAU st ION Jana Kasperkevic Feel the failure, of the strings, Hide me smell it in my sweat. dropping me to the from what I really am. Bask in the misery floor that reflects upon my face. I lie there Numb me against the helplessly, truth, Mind over matter, you say. without purpose. save me from the Can’t win them all, voices whisper failure, inside my head. Against my will, from the reality drowned within of the helpless being They lie. my failure that is me. I beg you The endurance they told me I had, to own me again. not real the strength that kept me going, Rule me. an illusion Delude me. leaving me gasping for air. Take me. Testing me is what you do well. Waking me from dreams I thought were real. You pull the strings, dear puppet master. You turn the knobs, spraying me with cold water, numbing me wholly. The pain, unfelt spreads throughout; hidden, waiting. I move, function knowing that you call the shots. You awaken the pain, you numb it away, and when you let go DUMMY TOR T URE Dustin Winegar 3 CHEE S E C AKE S Ken Tsé It was about an hour before closing time at the café and Chan and Omar were locking up tonight. Omar was at the register while Chan was on barista and back bar. Chan was going through the refrigerated pastry display, counting what was left of the pastries when a young couple walked in. “Hello, good evening. What can I help you with?” Omar asked. Chan peeked over the display case to get a look at the couple and await their orders. He saw the gentleman was a tall, athletic black man in a suit. His lady friend was short, slim, Asian, probably Chinese, and also in business attire. Chan felt just a bit sick. The black gentleman wrapped his arms around his Chinese girlfriend and said, “Your choice, honey.” “Okay, we’ll have two slices of cheesecake to go.” “Absolutely. What flavors would you like?” Omar responded. “We’ll take one slice of chocolate and one slice of cherry.” “And a mocha latte and green tea,” the black gentleman added. Chan gave the couple the evil eye as they turned around, walked over across the café and took a seat by the windows to wait for their order. He watched as they held both their hands together and giggled to each other quietly. Chan turned back to Omar. “Separate containers or together?” he asked, away from earshot of the couple. “Put them in the same container.” Chan felt sicker. “No, I think it’s a better idea to put them in separate containers.” “Why would you put them in separate containers?” “Because they belong in separate containers.” “They’re probably going to eat them together anyway.” “They’re different flavors. You don’t mix two flavors of cheesecake together. How the hell would that taste?” “You’re not mixing anything; you’re just putting the cheesecake in a container.” “But by the time they get home, the chocolate’s going to melt all over the cherry and the cherry sauce is going to be all over the chocolate. It’s nasty.” “They probably want to eat it together.” “I’m going to put them in separate containers just in case they want to eat it separately and they can put it together later if they want.” “What’s the big deal? You save space with just one container,” Omar objected with palms out and a look of confusion. “Because it’s a mess and disgusting to have the two cheesecakes touch and melt all over each other.