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Dave Patterson · #30 North Texas Review 2009 Staff Editors in Chief · Bredt Bredthauer and Renée Lyons Fiction Editor · Nathan Boutwell Nonfiction Editor · Natalie Swindle Poetry Editors · Ed Casey and Renée Lyons Art Editor · Mary Chapman Designer · John Custer Faculty Advisor · Jean Roelke Readers · Steven Kilpatrick, Chelsea Miller, Sebastian Paramo, Joy Siu, JD Smith, Jon Forisha, and Heather Tipton Special Thanks We would like to thank our faculty advisor, Dr. Jean Roelke, for her guidance and support. We would also like to thank the Student Service Fee Committee, UNT Willis Library, and UNT Printing Services for making this publication possible. We would especially like to thank all students who submitted this year. Your work is an inspiring record of the excellence and creativity housed in the University of North Texas. Information The North Texas Review is an annual publication of the Department of English at the University of North Texas. It is produced by UNT students and exclusively features work by UNT students. Correspondence should be addressed to: P.O. Box 311307, University of North Texas Denton, TX 76203 The North Texas Review exposes and reveals the diverse For an electronic copy of this publication, visit ntr.unt.edu. literary and artistic hidden talents of the students at the Body copy is set in Driod Serif and Driod San Serif; headlines are Driod Serif and Driod San Serif. University of North Texas. Readers, it is our sole hope that you find much joy in discovering and exploring the minds This publication is funded by the students of the University of North Texas. and talents of these bright individuals. Contents Fiction Nonfiction 9 Lucas Strough · Soil 3 Derek Bradford · Brushfire Snowflakes 17 Yasmin Ramirez · Six 60 Brad Pike · Rob Jackson 31 Mandala Scott · Reptile House 46 Richard Arduengo · On a Prairie Drive 69 Brit Naylor · Watermelon Watermelon Watermelon Poetry Art 2 Octavio Quintanilla · Man at Carwash, Loop 288 1 Laura Long · Seven to Seven 8 Mandala Scott · Harvest 7 Traci Tisdale · Flow 15 Christian Worlow · Written While Looking out the Window at 12 Mandala Scott · Fairground Eye Denny’s (Denton, Texas, 20 February 2005) 16 Stephanie Garcia · George the Hobo Street Poet (Paris, France) 28 Christie Bingham · The Drowning Man 21 Michael Malowanczyk · Figure Study #7 29 Taylor Cook · Into the Gulf 27 Derek Bradford · Cerveceria 30 J.M. Bauge · Maggots & Motherhood 32 Taylor Cook · Noctum 42 Mary Bush · Faith 35 Laura Long · Water Bottle 43 Brad Pike · The Best Thing about Golf Courses Is That They Can 41 Michael Malowanczyk · Figure Study #11 Easily Be Converted into Cemeteries 44 Zachary Sprague · Footsteps 56 Aubree Blomgren · to be buried 45 Mandala Scott · Skyfell 57 Taylor Cook · Rabbit Foot 52 Laura Long · Highway 59 Christie Bingham · Tomboy 58 Johanna Perkins · Burka Mountain 66 Michael S. Judge · Four Entries from a Speculative Dictionary 65 Dave Patterson · #29 67 Stephanie Garcia · When the Clock Strikes Morning and the Eggs 68 Traci Tisdale · Untitled Are Waiting… 76 Laura Long · Small World 78 Taylor Collier · Spring Begins in Denton, Texas 77 Kris P. · Untitled Cover Dave Patterson · #30 1 2 MAN AT CARWASH, LOOP 288 Octavio Quintanilla Laura Long · Seven to Seven You have traded the land for a bucket full of soapy-water. Fifty cents for a tip— sometimes a little more when the wreck of your smile reminds someone of what they too have abandoned. Some do not see how your hands still grip the plow, how your tongue can’t find the tongue to say: Me muero. But we all die behind the wheel, inside the furnaces that run cold. We take journeys into mirrors thinking no one follows. We all end up in the same place. Some of us drink from where your lips touched the cup. 3 North Texas Review Derek Bradford 4 North Texas Review Derek Bradford the counter staring out the kitchen windows toward Thirty-Seventh Street. Cindy said, “They’re saying it started around three this morning and hasn’t let up since. So far we’ve had four inches.” “Great weather to wake up to, not so great to drive home in,” I replied. Denton was a good six hour drive with stops without weather delays. “Well, good thing this lets up in Childress then,” dad said. “The high in Denton is seventy-two; here it’s twenty-eight.” “Only in Texas,” I said. We all laughed. I went back to the sitting room to enjoy the view. Our front yard was dense with trees compared to the rest of the block, and each was covered BRUSHFIRE SNOWFLAKES with snow. The white blanketed the yard, no footprints insight. There was Derek Bradford something about cold days and coffee. Before coffee, college, and coming home, my typical reaction would have been to trample the yard with my tracks, to let someone know that a boy lived here. The temperature inside the house chilled me through the instant I tossed The coffee warmed me as it always did. In our world where the only the covers over the edge of the bed.I got up and peered out the window. certainty is change, knowing the comforts of coffee were constant was Last night was the first time to stay in my old room since leaving for col- always refreshing. lege two months ago. Work held me for part of the break, and was calling I had everything packed last night so that I could enjoy the morning. me back a lot earlier than I had hoped. As soon as my hands touched the After my first cup, I brought my bag to the entry way. The first car of the curtain to draw it back, the chill worked itself over my body. My eyes were day passed by, streaking the solid white blanket with its tracks. Nate and skimming over a perfectly white neighborhood outside my window. Child- his car’s tracks followed soon after. Both my parents stood in the entry- hood memories raced to my thoughts quicker than the memories of my way and wished us well, demanding that we pay attention to the road. dreams disappeared. They ranged from earlier years of bibbed snow suits Around eight-fifteen Nate and I drove toward Denton with two fresh cups and snowmen to teenage snowball fights with balloon launchers. of Cinna-Doodle coffee to sharpen our early morning wits. It took about Nate was picking me up in about an hour; he was a newly found friend an hour or so into the drive for either of us to become mindful enough for that, as it turned out, had lived close to me my entire life. It took a univer- conversation. My friendship with Nate was obvious after one conversation. sity core physics class on the other side of the state for us to meet. After normal introductions and finding a common tie to Amarillo, Nate and Sick of the cold that was forming inside me, I made my way to the I discovered a similar taste in offbeat music and on-beat literature. What kitchen in hopes that coffee was already brewed. The cold had taken fascinated me the most was that he was an accounting major. I had never the house. After walking through the carpeted hallway barefoot, the tile met anyone who dealt with numbers and logic while simultaneously har- entryway sent a shock through my lower limbs. The kitchen was connected boring one of the most random and appreciative spirits. He was as capable to the entry way by the sitting room, which had a wonderful set of floor to of carrying on conversations about Kerouac and Vonnegut as he was with ceiling windows perfect for contemplating such a morning. When I turned the jargon associated with accounting and macroeconomic theory. My first the corner into the kitchen, both of my parents were standing there in college English instructor, Dr. Huber, always told me to spend my time with faded cotton PJ’s, given the holiday, grinning at me. the people who were smarter than me because intelligence had a tendency “Looks like you slept pretty well,” my dad said. I picked up the first cof- to rub off if you were patient enough. I had a feeling it was people like Nate fee cup that I saw. that he was referring to. “What blend do we have?” I asked. The Bagel Place in Amarillo cre- Just before entering Childress, heading South on 287, the snow started ated their own blends of coffee and these were the only type my parents dissipating. The opposite end of town hadn’t even seen snow. Half the bought; and it wasn’t until coming home for Thanksgiving that I appreci- town was under a blanket, and the other half had cloudless sky. Those ated this uniqueness as much as I should have. who came to Texas only needed to spend a season here to understand the “Cinna-Doodle,” Cindy said. This is a great mix of hazelnut, cinnamon, phrase “Only in Texas” and why most of time we were only talking about and chocolate, a perfect companion for a snowy morning. We all sat at the weather. Another hour down the road was another roadside attraction 5 North Texas Review Derek Bradford 6 North Texas Review Derek Bradford I hadn’t experienced before. “Nate, after spouting off something like that without much thought, can Just outside Chillicothe, Nate and I noticed a line of gray-green on the you honestly tell me that you want to spend your life working with num- horizon that grew as we approached.

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