Cantos

2020 1 “The chief enemy of creativity is good sense.” Pablo Picasso

Cover Art by Sophia Chung The Soul

Darren Jacobs

Quarrelsome, the lone, angry wave unleashing its frustration on the jagged rocks

Yet calm, the wind against an eagle’s wings as it soars the bright blue sky

Cold, the heartbroken widow in her first winter alone

Yet warm, the fiery red of a tree in the dawn of Autumn

Lively, the infant not yet affected by the trials of life

Yet dead, the crippled stem of a flower in the deepest winter

Controlling, the mother bear teaching her cub how to survive

Yet controllable, a tame horse running on the plains

3 Shoes Off A Short Film by Joshua Cisneros

4 Mike

Look, the best way to stop missing something is to forget that you don’t have it. Instead of thinking about how you can’t take your shoes of f, forget that you can’t take your shoes off. It’ll help you a lot. Just don’t think about it, I don’t and it’s gotten me this far.

Julia

I don’t think I can do that.

Mike

Well, if you don’t like it here, you can always just leave.

Julia

I’m considering it.

Mike

Just know that if you leave… THEY won’t let you back into this hotel.

Julia

But what’s the point?

Mike

Again, don’t think about it. It’ll drive you crazy if you do.

(Mike walks back into his apartment room. Julia turns around and sees Randy standing on the opposite end of the hallway.)

Randy

They’re not happy with the way you’ve been behaving so far.

5 Church of Bones By Brianna Miller

6 Mexico

Leslee Moon

The winds of change are here. I can feel them, stirring through the trees. Nothing lasts forever, except God, maybe the seas. If they don’t dry up from the abuse and pollution, degradation, and confusion. Water diverted to places it was never meant to flow. Rivers no longer reaching their intended destination. I’m speaking of you, sweet Mexico.

Where I’m too afraid to travel. Warnings of kidnappings and false incarceration. Prevent any well-meaning vacation. There’s a town I’d love to visit. I’ve heard it’s full of artists. Inland, not a place of tourists. Where the culture is rich and by all means inclusive. Yet I don’t go, too many routes turned abusive.

Mexico has a bad reputation. Drug lords seeming to control the devastation. How did that happen? Perhaps a deeper inquiry is required. I wonder if the dried up Colorado River, a vital element for life to flourish, has anything to do with their unpredictable economy, unstable families, and diminished personalities.

Mexico, you are not forgotten. I weep for your children. I pray that they won’t grow up in a world feeling begotten. A wall won’t solve the problem. Unless the wall is protecting them from the problem.

America claims to be the land of the free, but that’s just plain mockery. Using God’s name in vain, He doesn’t divide his people. All are welcome in His kingdom. Those making the threats have lost sight of where they came from. We are all guests on this planet. As I mentioned before, nothing lasts forever. Take inventory of your life, how much of it is devoted to God’s pleasure?

What can you do to heal the world? It’s as simple as smiling at your neighbor. They are your imagination manifestation. If you don’t like what you see, take your faith into question. Those with a pure heart, one anchored in God’s profession, find not fault in one another, they are simply a reflection.

Godspeed is nature’s inclination. His timing is perfection. Asking only your total dedication. You have been sold a lie with every iPhone edition. It can’t replace life, it is a phone-y misrepresentation.

7 Mothers

Kimberly Pitts

Cultures may have deemed this a man’s world, but the Lord has declared you to be highly esteemed or favored one

You can be seen as a wonder woman who I know can often feel like a worn-out woman

You do many things that only the Lord sees

In every meal prepared, mile driven, tear brushed away, prayer prayed, battle fought on my behalf, you are always more than what you do

Just as me, you are loved by the one and greater parent: our Savior and creator. Just as me, you are a sinner and make mistakes. Just as me, your unborn and present life was worth the ultimate sacrifice. Just as me, every payment of your past present and future sins have been paid in full. Just as me, you have been redeemed and fully known - loved - seen by our Lord Above.

In the beginning, the Lord looked down at what He had made and frowned because it was not yet complete without you

You, Mom, repeat many words. Whether with discipline, a kind hug, or many other gracious ways that abound... you don’t let a day or night pass without the sounds of “I love you” or “I love you more”

So, today, as well as any day, whether in word or deed, is one worth

repeating and reminding you too of the phrase “I love you”

8 Battered

Hannah Davis

I’ve grown tired of mistaking drunken slurs for sober cursive that talks of softness like wanting me like loving me.

I can’t decide between the Times New Roman or Sans Serif lines that they scribble with their tongues with their teeth.

But it feels better to be left with bruises than to be a stranger to touch. So leave bloody constellations behind before you go, so at least I’ll know that you were here.

I’m so fucking sick of people leaving me and having nothing to show for it.

9 Weight

Chase Fowler we drove down the road two vile things coursing through the veins of the city like poison rotting a virgin heart from the inside out your hands gripped the wheel- my leg- the wheel- my thigh- and I noticed your knuckles white and damaged with dried blood; the wounds of blind anger meeting drywall wounds from a pain easier to deal with than the burn of a kiss ‘cause you’d rather have a fractured hand than the weight of scarlet letters spelling fag carved into your ivory flesh dripping the real you onto that privileged foundation you built yourself upon i ask myself what weighs more: the weight of your hand on my thigh or the weight of society’s expectations for you and how next time you take a swing in anger it might be my blood on your hands.

10 I Got Here...

Yanira Cristobal

I got here thanks to them. The ones who traveled miles thinking there was never an end. Through multiple deserts without food or water to get to where they are now. Leaving behind parents, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles. Leaving behind everything they value for a better future. Two young adults risking their lives in search of opportunities and freedom. He, young and full of energy. She, young with a beautiful creature inside her belly. Hand in hand, walking through tough days. Night after night walking through cold winds. With hopes for a better future and the family they wished to have. He, working two jobs for his wife and for his first baby soon to come. She, working with her baby bump anxiously awaiting the day. Years passed by and they were progressing. Three kids enjoying their childhood filled with love and laughter. In the blink of an eye their children were now at the same age, mom and dad had been when they arrived. First child done with college, now working his dream job. Second child attending college striving to achieve her goals. Third child growing up following her siblings’ footsteps. All three working hard to make the tears and sweat worthwhile. I got here thanks to them.

11 Solution v. Pollution

Sophia Chung

12 It was good Alivia Barrier

From James 2:10 “Whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all.”

We laid down our burdens next to each other. Filled altars with pains and sorrows and headaches row by row surmounting sins rising above our heads. Holier than thou—than us. Than our agony afflicted by no one—other than ourselves.

We think of our torment and torture, of our own discomforted heads throbbing with the ideas that this world could get better. If only we had cared; our world burning, throbbing, destroyed at every turn.

Too late to rebel against our lifestyle, we comfort ourselves by asking for forgiveness, a grace which, we are taught, can be sought over and over again and again. Breathing World We lie. Jarod Large

To ourselves. To our youth. Ever wondered how trees work, To our God. stand tall, silent, givers of life. Guardians of the world His creation was good. sucking out the bad to expel the good. But, we are “guilty of all.” Never ask for anything in return, they exist to keep the world breathing. Millions of years, infinite breaths, they were always there.

They burn, die, they resurrect their own circle of life, one day it might all end, without our protection.

Continuously mistreated, they suffer, cry, scream. If we do not help, the day will come,

the world takes its last breath.

13 It’s Been Awhile

Jenna Foster

Since I’ve smelt the crisp scent of descending dead leaves or the fumes of soap infused within threads of cotton as I wipe a runny nose on my sweater sleeve. I haven’t felt the burn of a rope on my hands or its endless besetment between my limbs as I sit on its circular counterpart. What could take me away from the wind on my face as I bike through gravel alleys in attempt to escape? I don’t need the dirt on my denim anymore because I’ve been collecting dust inside on the floor.

The Red Tree

Richburg Canty

The most beautiful tree I have ever seen Leaves of crimson, bark of rusty oak Shook me to my roots, wasn’t even looking for it We spoke briefly as I had to go, A mutual appreciation of one another. She said she’ll be here next time I see her I knew this, but I must accept that those leaves may be gone The brown veins may wrinkle It is still the same. Thing is I wasn’t looking I saw right to the roots, and now I am writing this. Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall I’m with it, let me add to your branches Hopefully they don’t kill you for them Please be here when I return. She promised.

14 Rain

Samantha Miller

There is no need to hide from the rain Let it fall on your skin cultivating shrieks of joy and laughter

Let it nourish the child in you when you wake to a dreary day and it tucks you back into bed while it lulls you to sleep with its pitter-patter lullaby

Let it remind you of its power when it turns the sky from blue to black then cracks open the heavens shaking the world with its thunder

You do not need to fear the rain Let it call to you with promises of new life and new starts Let it wash away the old the dead and the dying

Photo by Alexandria DeLaTorre 15 Flakes of Peace

Wilson Martin

Opaque skies menacingly move heavy overhead stopping here breath seen on cold morning shiver shoots through me sound of stillness; fill the wood dry leaves crunch under step cold wind blows through leafless trees winter of wonder upon the world at last; heavy clouds loose their hold first flake drifts down followed by fellows lazy blown by wind greenery of pines brown leaf litter gray birch branches disappear under falling f l a k e s

16

16 Snowy Fence Emma Throneburg

cover green brown gray watch wood fill up with snow frost frozen in brief moment serene silence upon my world

close eyes

breathe in

this moment

of peace

17

17 Photo by Lily Laramie

Photo by Summer Lackey The Doldrums

Lily Laramie

Dismal skies. Crows, color of midnight, scream from invisible airborne perches, Fields, colorless as the rest of the purgatory-esque landscape. Then there is The Man, The man in the moth eaten hat, with the white mangy hair, squirming about his shoulders. And his cane, charred, split, ancient thing with a raven's head that watches with wolfish intensity as you move. Black eyes violating, slithering over your skin. The Man. Ruler of the Doldrums who eats your dreams as if they were chocolate covered candies. The man in your dreams, who lives in the floating house with the warped, twisted ancient boards look as if they knew the time of earth's creation. House with alien pulsing blue light oozing through windows. The only color in this grey dismal world. Calling to the unwary like a siren's song. Feel the tug of this demon’s song as you look upon that house, that man who dwells in those ancient walls. You call out to the man, but as everything else in the Doldrums your voice is nothing. As dead as the grass beneath bare feet. Then, the old man jerks his head, and creaks around to look at you, his face, his face is nothing. Blank as slate that has faded and cracked over time. Try to scream, mouth gaping like a cave opening, and all you hear are crows. He walks toward you, joints cracking and popping as if he has never moved until now, house at his side. Doors shudder open, preparing to take one last victim into its shattering depths.

19 Home Through Feelings

Kaynmon Maddox

breathe in fertilizer with an ocean breeze worry- free, like nothing can bother me

new construction mixed with hot winter temperatures this is Home over highways and pastures

through bright lights of the city fighting through traffic racing to your dreams heart racing even faster

towns that not as they seems land surviving and thriving California

20 Ocean Sunset by Landra Mohler

Siesta Key, September 2019

Michael Gebelein

We sat together and the moon broke up the waves

And washed sand and tiny broken pieces of shells over our feet

She pressed against me there and I felt it

Tiny shocks across my back that flashed endlessly

21 Focus

Aurora King

Driving through the rain as it pours. Floating through the atmosphere, tears, but much more.

Sliding down my windshield, blurring my vision. A caution to pull over, stop and listen.

I watch as it penetrates the mud, seeps into the roots, like emotions through my body.

I listen as it bounces on asphalt. Creating songs of nature, attempting to calm me.

Rain is my outlet, releasing my feelings, impacting those around me.

Focus on nature, emotions of the earth. Our natural surroundings.

22 Panic

Delaney Dewey uncontrollable gusts sweeping across once calm and serene terrain rain beating down like a stampede horses racing inside my chest funnel clouds forming like stirred up foam frothing and foreshadowing more is coming. bushes uprooted thrust from sedentary life frantically flipping and flying caught in a storm of whirling wind a chaotic choir of singing- no screaming with no escape stuck in my own body. thumping has moved to my head now terror forcing its way out from the core of my body the beating, a crescendo, hurricanes within me peaking, no eye in sight. all there is to do is breathe and wait and breathe and ride out the storm.

23 Some get Stronger, Some get Weaker

Hannah Lassiter

Dear friend, Some will get stronger In life Some will get weaker I mean this as a speaker Be rather in the former Than in the latter Life is not easy It is a test for souls How much do you believe? What do you believe? Things quickly unfold Everyone that lives has to get old Some will get stronger Some will get weaker I pray you will not cease Living life and seeking peace Be strengthened instead of accepting defeat Love, Someone like you

24 Atlas, Astronaut

Lily Oetting

When you first looked to the stars, did you ever imagine you would walk among them?

Setting your sights above Mount Olympus, you climbed the cosmos in rockets built for Titans.

From up there, mortals are nothing, Zeus but a speck, and Olympus no more than an anthill.

There, amongst the cosmic deities you hold the world, the expectations of mortals, Zeus’s self- imposed, pseudo- power. Because you know gods are only worshipped by men on the ground.

Yet there, as you walk in sync with the universe, all rests firmly on your shoulders.

But even the titanic rockets that carried you beyond mere galaxies all burn eventually. After all, Icarus’s wings only killed him in the end.

For now though, as you stand between planetary light and stars combusting, men look to you to carry their cosmic aspirations- you, Atlas, Astronaut.

Milky Way Galaxy Daniel Kiser

25 An Excerpt from “The Li Fonti Job”

Hollis Miller

I grew up in a rough neighborhood. A couple of blocks filled with nothing but pork and liquor stores right smack in the middle of Queens. There wasn’t a time when the police weren’t lurking around the corner waiting for some kids to make a mistake and rob a convenience store or jack a lady’s purse. That is, until Jackie Belluci came around.

Jackie was a high-ranking member in the Genovese family, and I’m talking caporegime high. Cocksucker had power like you wouldn’t believe. He showed up, and the police started wearing shades so dark they might as well have gouged their eyes out. The neighborhood loved him, right down to the nuns and priests. He was a superhero.

Jackie and I eventually became good friends. I was always a troubled kid, had a temper like the Tasmanian Devil, and was constantly in a pinch because of it. But this one time I really fucked up. I was about thirteen years old and had just saved up enough cash selling papers to buy a bike. To a kid in my neighborhood, a bike was like a brand- new Cadillac with white-leather seats. I was proud of that shit, and I earned it by my own doing. Until one day this kid, much younger than me, named Greg Bufano, took it right off the rack and rode the thing right out into the street. My bike got smacked by a two- ton delivery truck which turned it into spare parts. I beat the fuck out of the kid. He was only like six years old, but I thought he needed to be taught a lesson, so I did him good. Broke a few things, cracked a few more.

The next day I was having an ice cream with my friends when Mr. Bufano, who we called Big Boof, barged in the joint talking like he was gonna kill me, a thirty-year-old fucking guy mind you. Lucky for me, Jackie Belluci was hanging around back and stepped in, told Bufano he lacked respect and I was just a kid and kids will do what they do. Jackie knew what had gone down the day before, so he took me under his arm and walked me to the bike shop a few neighborhoods over, a pleasant place so to speak. He took me inside and told me to point at whichever bike I liked best, and with a quick handoff of a few bills I had my Cadillac with white-leather seats back. Jackie told me that if I stuck with him, there was more of that coming, and that people like Greg Bufano’s father would think twice about laying their hands on me, or maybe they wouldn’t even think about it at all.

And fucking a did I stick around. At first, I did menial things like grabbing coffees and sandwiches for Jackie and his friends, but as I got older, I was upgraded to kicking Irish ass, and eventually taking out the trash for Jackie, if you know what I mean.

26 I never enjoyed taking anyone’s life, but that was the only way to survive once you got involved. You were expected to obey orders, and you’d be the one chopped up in a few dumpsters if you didn’t. That was the way things were, and without Jackie Belluci I probably woulda gotten pinched pushing heroin on a street corner. I owed him a lot. Like I said, I never liked it, but the way I saw it, we all signed a contract when we joined up. We knew the stakes, the risks, and we took them. That’s how I made my peace with what I did. The life wasn’t for everybody, but we had a good thing going, until one day, we didn’t.

27 Hart Square: Mixed Media Artwork Mason Strother

Teague House

28 Punch- Seitz House

Kahill- Dellinger House

29 The Tree

Wilson Martin the Tree the Tree planted lightning after Pop married Maw struck leaving in front yard of old black tear scar White farmhouse before aunt cried no inside for cousin plumbing and potbelly killed in rice patties wood stoves. Yellow ribbon tied to remember. the Tree sapling the Tree when Momma played kissed by Maw beside as child kneeling on Green grass cradling baby before coming doll, one having to live with us Blue blinking eyes. after Pop’s stroke and heart attack. the Tree where aunts the Tree uncles said vows pushed down professed love by yellow bulldozer smoked making unfiltered Camels black parking lots talked sports white concrete strip-malls sipped iced tea blue business parks signs shared noisy green apple clouds church gossip square red brick blocks Red sauce recipes. of meaningless trees. the Tree For What? under which family dinners amelioration took place; technologization shade from noon industrialization Sunday summer; socialization after lunch capitalization raced cousins or climbing like Gray squirrels before just some city’s I broke wrist manifest destiny. fingers slipping from branch.

30 Like They Said

Yer Vang

I am strong. I can even fly, but I sat and watched life pass by. The waves are calling, the winds are pushing and I stand unmoving; I stand unchanging

I am not strong. I cannot fly. My world came down when you said bye no one knows that night so cold we were so bold, but now we’re old.

Remember all the smiles and laughter? We all dreamed of what came after, but what is the use without you? I pray and hope that you miss us too.

Now I have to be strong without you here, It’s hard without a fallen tear. Not a photo or your voice. I’m sad. We had no choice.

They all say one day at a time, my heart cries out it’s a crime. You’ll learn to live without them it all becomes an offset rhythm.

31 You’ll Find Your Time

Sarah Cross

I miss the sidewalk/ the familiar smells/ sometimes I don’t feel real//

Feels like I was just taking my dog out/ talking to you in the closet/ to keep me grounded/ counting until I could comeback

I’m not sure if I ever came back

Fear finds me/ entangles me in its web/ I wish I could be free from it/ speak without it ruining my confidence// Breathing makes me nauseous/ nights make me wake up with a sweat

My head says I don’t belong here/ the web feels more like cords/ and they tighten

You write well

But I’m just trying to put all this pain somewhere/ all this fear/ the thoughts that say I shouldn’t be here

Telling me no one actually cares

If I knew how many times I’d want to give up/ how many poems I’d write until I’d no longer felt sadness/ I probably would’ve quit/ If I knew how many times I’d be forgotten/ I probably would’ve given up on making friends

That’s why the future is dangerous

32 I think about all this sadness/ crying in bathrooms/ begging in hallways/ sitting by myself

Thinking about being a kid/ wanting friends/ but disregarded instead/ so I looked for them in the books I read/ found one in a deflated soccer ball I played with// Thinking about when my mom crumbled/ the first time I saw my dad cry/ these things imprint on me for life/ the past seems to follow me/ want me dead

Inspires these poems that will be read

My therapist says I should trust more but I’m scared/ my best friend feels distant/ I hate feeling so separate

I apologize a thousand times/ I often hate how I am/ you always tell me it’s fine/ fixing my rings/ fixing my trust issues/ maybe one day I won’t be so scared to ask for help

You show me what it means to be kind

Hickory Square Clock Daniel Kiser

33 Listen Sophia Chung

34 Glass Landra Mohler

35 Eliseo Miles

Sydney Moulton

Eliseo Miles looks at his hands when he starts to feel weird about life and existing and all that dumb shit. When he has a miniature existential crisis, which only happens sometimes on Sunday nights, with the bedside lamp still on, the air polluted with the burden of the last seven days and the even heavier burden of the seven days to come, he listens to Drake and looks at his hands. He doesn’t really like Drake and he isn’t even sure if he really likes girls, but it makes him feel more normal to be pissed and upset at a girl that never existed because Drake is pissed and upset at a girl that probably did exist. It is 2016, and getting sad to Drake is the most manly thing that Eliseo Miles can do. Eliseo is looking at his hands and they aren’t his.

Try going a month without looking at your face. Go to a mirror and get really close to it, take your glasses off, get closer, until your breath fogs up the glass, and look yourself in the eyes like you were meeting them for the first time. Stare for a good while because everyone needs to have an Eliseo Miles identity crisis at least once in their lifetime. Gaze deep into the stalking black abyss of your pupils, try to make out the face of that voice narrating your thoughts, and ask yourself, “Am I really in this motherfucker?”

This humid and uneventful Sunday night, Eliseo is staring at a spoon, or at least that’s what you would think looking at the angsty, bored teenage boy on the couch, head propped on the arm rest, twisting the spoon back and forth in the air, probably thinking about girls. That's what anyone with eyes that aren’t his would see. Eliseo is studying the distorted reflection of his face on the back of it, moving it back and forth to make his features twist in and out of proportion. “Marvin’s Room” by Drake is playing on repeat in the back of his mind, but it isn’t a girl that he is thinking about. He is coming to the crushing realization that this reflection looks more like Eliseo than any other reflection of himself that he’s seen. It has no specific shape or characteristic. It can not see or hear or smell because it has no definite eyes or ears or nose. It can’t be defined. It just experiences things. It doesn’t exist to anything or anyone but itself, and Eliseo is satisfied with that.

36 Anonymous 37 Constantly

Alexandra DeLaToree

I constantly wonder. Constantly worry. Constantly walking….. egg….. On………….... Shells…

Constantly... scared, Of o p e n i n g up to you about my pain. The message must not have gotten across, you did the same thing again.

Constantly... doubting, Whether or not this relationship is real

Constantly... searching, For you, to see if you’re really there for me like I need you to be.

Constantly… hiding, How I really feel, unsure if the wrong move will push y o u a w a y

Constantly... watching, Your every move for a sign that you want to leave me.

Constantly... overthinking, Everything I said to see if I made you too uNcOmFOrtAblE to stay.

Constantly... talking, to make sure you HEAR me.

Constantly... reminding, You, to make sure you don't forget me I’ve been told I’m easy to forget…. … ...... constantly.

38 Give Me Security

Jasmine Thompson

It wraps around me like thorns on a rose Perfect smile, pretty brown skin. Can a girl just get picked from that?

Give me security Wrap me up like my thighs do my shorts in the summertime, The way my love handles hug in my jeans Give me security, please. Instagram models show you the life. Money. Perfect hair. Golden hour. but give yourself the love you need.

Dancing, becoming an alter ego of myself Pretending to have it all Secure her in everything. Padlock on my precious heart While walls arise at the sign of something good.

My soulmate around the corner. Give me security? Find security within yourself, but Give me the ability to love you.

As I start to unwrap, That flower girl, chocolate skin beauty girl, Confident state of mind. Affirmations find me every day, That Cancer woman has a beautiful shell of her own. She finds security in herself. Security has found her. It wrapped around me like thorns on a rose. But all comfort spaces come to an end.

Give me security? I now have it within myself.

39 If Only Dogs Lived Forever Charlotte Tester

40 Love’s Embrace

Sheri Moroe

Come my love and sit with me Now we are older, time flies by, Let us rest here under this tree, Come sit with me love, as I weep and cry

For we are young and have so much But you cannot sit here by my side, time, For you have gone on to the other side Sing to me a silly little rhyme I remember your touch and day gone by, Of knights in armor and ladies so fine, I see your things and I start to cry Of days gone by ...another time Don’t worry my love I’m coming soon, When love and honor were the natural My heart sings out our favorite tune way, Not like the world we live in today Of love’s first kiss and the romance we shared, You laugh and hold my hand to your No other’s love story could ever compare lips, Your kiss is such a tender wisp Death is only a part of life, And soon my world will have no strife So time has flown now, years gone by, My head on your shoulder, a tender sigh I’ll see you waiting at heaven’s gate, Your arms open wide, in love’s embrace. Come my love and sit with me, Here on the bench, under our tree

Let us watch the children laugh and play, And hope that they will want to stay

For children grow up and are soon on their way, And one day bring their children to play

41 Rise and Fall

Rachel Blake crickets chirp calming beating beneath my rib cage fueled by fear. sleepless nights heaviness lifted by morning fog and carried away on golden lined cotton candy tensions rise and fall with a cool breeze carrying the crisp smoky smell of extinguished rage. the beauty of autumn and anger, neither lasts forever.

42 Pieces of the Void

Samantha Cleveland The void that surrounds me when I am alone. Follows me endless, Wherever I roam. Room to room, featureless faces. Ex- cept for their eyes, floating in space. Such mass- ive glowing spheres reflect the sun’s light. Like golden harvest moons in the night sky. Where they silently lurk, hiding in the dark. Watch- ing me patiently, while on dreams I embark. Their feet move quietly to leap on my bed. To watch me closely, perhaps wondering if I am dead? In the darkness they wait for my conscience to stir. Screaming in chorus while loudly they purr. Scrambling away, as I rise to my feet. Moving towards the kitchen, gat- hering food for my glaring to eat. Claws re- a -ch to sink into my skin. Tearing my jeans, the frenzy begins. The void hungers for food, they climb towards the bowl. Le- a -ping when placed upon the floor. The void en- gulfing it whole. Agile bodies, like a twisting black hole. Absorbing the light, content with their feast. Small insatiable creature, my onyx furred beasts. Preoccupied, grant me a moment of peace. Before the void returns, to play at my feet. Dancing weightlessly, on tiny toe beans. Six loving kittens so sweet.

43 Leviathan Toriana Smith 44 The Heart Eater

Lawrence Cook

I’ve summoned a monster. The moment it had fully appeared it had escaped out into the world, and I fear that because of me we are all going to eventually die. It was supposed to be all fun and games. Nothing that I was reading felt like it was real, but it felt fun to carry out. Walking into the forests late at night, dressed in sky black robes, and chanting out half assed Latin learned from library books and internet sites. Yet, that thing that came bubbling out the ground was far from just childish illusions and make believe.

There was a crack of lightning when it first happened. Wiping the shit eating grin off my mouth I had stood shell shocked waiting to see what would happen. Then the fresh spring leaves started to flee from their trees. A torrent wave of green leaves floated down to the ground and rode on the swirling wind laying low on the rough forest floor. The newly bloomed trees had shaken themselves bare, and their bark grew darker as they seemed to rot with each passing second.

Part of me was excited to see what I had done. That is until it started to rise from the broken ground. Like thick, black boiling tar it pooled itself and from the center a skeletal figure rose into the glow of the moon light. It was human in shape, but far from normal. It lumbered high into the sky. Its back was arched in a nautilus shaped hunchback. The creation of the beast filled the air with snapping sounds as it set itself right.

I had closed my eyes to try and snap myself awake. It had to be a nightmare, but even as I tried to will myself out of the dark, I could hear it continuing to grow. The liquid rushing sound of flesh winding up its figure, and the horrid smell of its century old muscles reversing its petrification.

Only when it had started to move towards me did I open my eyes to the horror towering above me. Its skin was pale and white, stretched taut over its coiled and knotted bones. The tar around it had stopped bubbling, and it was free to move. It had taken a couple steps toward me, before bolting into the shadows of the forest.

My heart was beating too fast, but I ran home as fast as I could push myself. By the time I had made it home and bolted the door behind me I was seconds away from passing out. My body felt heavy, and my heart was flooding my head with blood. I don’t remember passing out, but it couldn’t have been long after I had taken off my robes and shoved them under my bed like dirty secrets.

45 There was a possibility that I could have grown to accept that it was just a bad dream. I would have loved nothing more than to believe that, but the next morning I had woken up to my mother screaming. She was standing on the front porch, the remains of her coffee cup shattered around her feet. I didn’t even try to ask her what was wrong because I saw it immediately.

Three corpses were strung by their feet from the roof of the front porch. Their blood collected in a large puddle under that seeped into the white wood of the deck and seeped down the stairs into the gravel walkway. It was all too much to handle and I had vomited almost right away. Despite it being so horrible I couldn’t look away. Worst of all they were all missing their hearts. I knew that it was the monster that I had summoned. It had killed those people, torn out their hearts, and then strung them up to me as a gift.

It’s been twenty-two years, but I know it's still out there. I can hear it in the night howling for its creator. I still find the gifts it brings me yearly. Sometimes it’s people, other times it’s animals. Eventually, I know that it's going to come for me, and I want it to. I want to be the one that puts it back in the ground. Even if it takes years, I will stop playing its games and kill it. I won’t let it take my heart alive. That much I can promise.

46 Drug

Alannah Thomas

I should have listened Voices in my head Scars on my heart wide and deep Should have paid more attention To you breaking me Fixated on the high

High off emotions. The butterflies you gave me. Your Confidence. Your sureness. I was being fooled And I noticed too late You had me captivated.

Your words played games in my head my mind always racing always on my toes But I couldn't let you go I was addicted To the heavy drug you were

You were the air I breathed The love I needed The root of problems And I couldn't get away I wanted to leave all along But you were my addiction

You numbed my pain, but I was blind to what you were doing My mind was a mess That drug broke me. You were the drug that broke me. Years later Still broken, pieces scattered.

47 New Life in Decay Hannah Wright

Photo by Lily Laramie

48 Sailors Never Sleep Alexandria DeLaToree

Port Brianna Miller

49 Silent Tears

Amanda Johnson

My heart is pounding, My brain is out of wack The Anxiety is giving me a heart attack

Red feet and rushing blood I can feel my heart beat with a thud

Mind is numb and the pain makes my faith wane I just might break because the headache is more than I can take

Silent tears are falling down I pray for a life raft so I won’t drown

The pain is daunting and the fear is numbing, but I have to think about the light that is coming

Horses Running Along the Parkway

Michael Gebelein

There are very few lines left to cross The stories told all end the same way I sat smoking on the stoop in Baltimore Just waiting for the sign that the world was ending But then I got up and walked away I walked down the block and turned a corner And turned back to find my car I got in and drove back to the mountains

50 My Mother Lately

Jillian Peterson

Lately my mom’s eyes are solemn, vibrant blue now dismal stone. Lately my mom is tired from trying to hide her fears, trying to stay hopeful. I know- I can see her spinning, overworked mind Trying to fix the past, spur The progression of the future. There is no hurt like the broken Heart of a mother. Her happy mask falls Apart every time the phone rings, every morning when he won’t get out of bed.

My sisters and I distract her with our busy lives and constant needs, but it is never enough to bring her back to the way she was before. She knows she can’t prevent it, a slow disease. It outsmarts us, and more importantly outsmarts him. The doctors say it’s not contagious, but how can you look at my mother, permanently sunken in defeat and say my brother’s burden is not shared? His depression, a mutual suffering.

51 Jacob Severens

52 The Most Significant Grain of Sand

Spencer Welland

If you do some math, You will find that there are roughly Seven quintillion, five hundred quadrillion, Grains of sand on the earth. That is seven with one five and eighteen zeros behind it.

But there is one grain That has the audacity to think it matters. There is one grain that Out of all the grains Thinks it has the chance to make a difference. It doesn’t exactly know what that difference is yet, But when it finds that particular crevice to get in, That particular person to stick to, Or that particular gust of wind To get picked up and blown into someone’s eye, It feels like it will know what to do.

53 Tinker Bell

Adam Gast

Tik tok tik tok. It’s all Hook hears. As he searches for the one he fears.

The alligator follows close waiting for his next meal.

Peter Pan hides with the lost boys in the woods. It wasn’t much Having fun, of a fight. like little boys should. After all it was men against boys. Tinker Bell finds love in the wrong place, The gator was fed. and is quick to give up secrets just to Hook raised his head. keep him happy. With a smirk for the dead.

Hook sets sail, And all thanks to Tink, and with Tink Hook will never by his side. have to think of He is sure that dreaded tik tok he won’t fail. again.

Within hours Hook arrives. Thrill in his eyes. He and his crew creep up like thieves do.

Caught by surprise. Peter tries to fly, but Hook follows with a not so fast.

54 Plans

Hannah Price

“What do you want to do with your Human and Community Service Degree?”

“I plan to save the little prince or princess from the evil stepparent That locks them up in the tower for long amounts of time and slowly tortures them Through beatings and starvation Or through the lack of love and education.” “I plan to be the last saving grace for the soul who never had it The one person who will listen to them while their shouting into the wind The person they can lean on when every bone in their body collapses from the weight of the entire universe I plan to be the person who is there when they make the life altering decision To step away from that ledge, release that trigger, flush those pills, or to put down that blade.” “For once in my damn life I’m going to make someone proud of me I am going to prove everyone wrong I’m going to prove the high school teacher who said I wouldn’t amount to nothing wrong I’m going to prove the dance instructor I had freshman year wrong I’m going to prove my mother wrong and not grow up to be like her I am going to graduate from this place, with this degree.”

“Honestly, I don’t fucking know.”

It’s okay to just not fucking know sometimes...

55 Daniel Kiser

Annoyed

Andy Ngo

This man, boy if I could, I'd smack him and teach him how to live his life, But, instead he'd rather be misunderstood. He smiles and changes his persona to fit in, He is fake, He lies to himself and others to get away. He'd rather help others than help himself. He wishes he can cry, swear it to be so hard but doesn’t realize he can Just not the way he thinks He surrounds himself around others who he believes can change his demeanor. His friends want to hang out and he makes them think he is eager. His presence, the way he walks, talks, the way he takes a seat, and the way he stands, All to show he knows he knows what he wants and isn’t afraid. Truth is, he is really afraid. He doesn’t know what he wants. Indecisive, unsure. Everything a facade. He says he wants to help others achieve their goals And yet he doesn’t even know where to find his road. Music displays a person’s personality pretty well, Toss that out the window because with him you wouldn’t even be able to tell. He listens to music a lot and does appreciate music but uses that to hide his true self. His heart is scarred, it aches for some kind of attention. He knows he needs help but doesn’t ask for it. I'm annoyed, Why is he like this? He wants salvation. He seeks it. But yet denies it. Just off yourself dammit. I'm annoyed...why am I like this?

56 Flowering Soul

Morgan Musumeci

few are not bound to constraints of this world

constant struggle against the grain

starvation of individuality for the sake of sustainability

so many deprived suffering with dullness and normalcy

conformity is demanded by society rejected only by the Strong

many are not strong they cave and bend

a special flower is required to break the mold

beauty in the difference

lone blossom striving for light

the singular Sunflower in a field of kudzu

demanding to be recognized fighting simply to be

never change little Sunflower you are what you yearn for.

57

Cantos 2020 Team Hollis Miller Editor Caroline Sweeter Assistant Editor

Editorial Board Jenna Foster Sarah Helfert Ashley Hinson Alexis Romero Mason Strother Kelyn Thornton

Faculty Advisors Dr. Dale Bailey Dr. Julie Voss Design Assistance Annette Schwiebert