Green Eggs and Hamlet 2018
Total Page：16
File Type：pdf, Size：1020Kb
Green Eggs and Hamlet 27th Edition of the Southeastern Oklahoma State University Literary Journal Editors Noah Patton Rachel Childers Staff Dylan Candelora Colton Duehning Dawn Smith Kameron Dunn Lead Designer & Cover Design Michaela Jestis Faculty Advisors Dr. Randy Prus, Chair of English, Humanities, and Language Jack Ousey, Professor of Art Letter from The Editors Welcome to the 27th edition of Green Eggs and Hamlet. We have had the great honor of editing this journal two years in a row, and if you have seen last year’s edition, you know that we reimagined this journal as a cohesive representation of Southeastern’s very best art and literature projects. This year, we have continued the effort to breathe new life into this journal, and we are proud to present this year’s edition: Metamorphosis, a celebration of growth and innovation. We are so grateful for the feedback and support we received for this project and would like to take a moment to thank those who made it possible. To our faculty sponsors, Randy Prus and Jack Ousey, thank you for your endless support of this, and all your students’ endeavors. To all the other Southeastern faculty and staff who helped out, thank you for encouraging students to submit their work and for making sure we got the help we needed. To the students and alumni who submit- ted literature and art, we cannot thank you enough for your wonderful submissions, with- out which this book would be nothing. To our friends and family, we could not have ac- complished this without you cheering us on. To our amazing graphic design editor, Mi- chaela Jestis, and our incredible staff, Dylan Candelora, Dawn Smith, Colton Duehning, and Kameron Dunn, thank you for stepping up and doing whatever needed to be done. And of course, to all our readers, our hard work would mean nothing if there was not an audience to enjoy it, so thank you for giving this book purpose. We are delighted with the finished product, and hope you are as well. Illustrated by Elaine Rodenbaugh Table of Contents To Myself, at 21 | Misty Allsup | Illustrated by Elaine Rodenbaugh | 6 Friedenship | Kathryn Carter | 8 For There Can be no Bridge Without the Shore | Elijah Marshall | 9 mallory: a collection | Chance Eubanks | Photography by Noah Patton | 11 Arkansas St. bleak light, trafficky | Cullen Whisenhunt | 17 Crucifixion | Nicholas Zamir | Illustrated by Michaela Jestis | 18 The Way We Are | Salena Eckelhoff | Illustrated by Michaela Jestis | 20 Conscience | Mylaine Self | Illustrated by Stephanie Canaday | 23 Daisy | Kathryn Carter | 24 Ella Learns Compassion | Misty Allsup | 25 Switzerland | Stephanie Canaday | 26 I Should Have Just Read a Book | Sharon Scott | Illustrated by Savannah Mueller | 28 John | Reid St. John | 34 The Painting | Brandon Burleson | 35 The Butterfly Soul | Tayte Weatherly | Illustrated by Savannah Mueller | 37 The Ember That Sparks the Fire | Dylan Candelora | 38 Urban Isolation | Reid St. John | 50 Dark Thoughts in the Rain | Christian Potter | 51 Eutrophia [Necrosis] | Elijah Marshall | 52 Before the Storm | Kathryn Carter | 53 Relief Sculptures | Michaela Jestis, Samantha Brownlee, Anonymous, and William McCall | 54 Sir Walter Scott Gothic | Reid St. John | 56 Among Wolf and Man | Colton Duehning | 57 Trust | Mylaine Self | Illustrated by Elaine Rodenbaugh | 61 Spirited Away | Jaden Cotton | 64 Trudge | Dylan Candelora |65 Losing My Wings: A Journey into the Real World | Christian Potter | Illustrated by Savannah Mueller | 67 Primrose | Austin Duval | 70 Notes on Oklahoma | Cullen Whisenhunt | 71 This is How the Rookie Fumbles | Shalene White | Illustrated by Stephanie Canaday | 72 Snapshot of a Soldier | Stephanie Canaday | 78 Ballerina | Kathryn Carter | 80 Never Stop Standing | LaTressa Mapps | 81 introspectre: a collection | Chance Eubanks | Photography by Noah Patton | 83 Poet’s Eye | Tayte Weatherly | 89 Theresa | Stephanie Canaday | 90 To Keep or To Return | Salena Eckelhoff | 91 Uncle Eddie | Jennifer Stahnke | 93 To Myself, at 21 by Misty Allsup Saw a picture of you today, That faded five-dollar Yankee cap that you stapled together Because you couldn’t bear to throw it away; Those soft doeskin boots you loved, Scuffed and raw looking. Not an inch of you to spare, Lines cut deep through your forearms. I know: because you work, right? You could never be a board barn princess. Such a bright smile on so sad a face… Illustrated by Elaine Rodenbaugh I know you better than anyone But I wish I could have seen you As others saw you – Throwing a long leg over a colt, Settling into a deep seat like you were melting into those grooved leather crevices. Seen your face tighten as the world exploded beneath you. You and your bucking horses, I wish I could have seen that. And, I wish I could have seen you playing the executive’s girl. Your hair all done up, The result of an insufferable hour at a salon, In your favorite heels, climbing out of your big truck. Laughing with the guys at the bar, Watching your boyfriend look at spreadsheets, Sipping on a Margarita that lasts all night. Wish I could have seen you During all of those days you spent alone Working on problems no one else wanted to solve, Wearing yourself out. Doing work that made you strong Or Driving through the night, Never stopping very long, Trying to make a 22-hour drive in 20. Yeah, I know you better than anyone But, I wish I could have seen you. To Myself, at 21 7 Friedenship by Kathryn Carter For There Can be no Bridge Without the And I cannot speak the luminescence of Shore blackberry violet by Elijah Marshall into the eyes of the blind, Nor can I transcribe the tones of birdsong in the ears of the deaf. Tell me, can you speak the roar of the wind onto the skin of the stillborn child? or convince her that she lived in a world where sunrises and the moon are real things And make her to see the silver and amber of their morning and midnight sheens? I like to think of myself as weaver of words But words like to be unwieldy things: signposts wedged in the gap between Thing and their signifying Shadow, And I find that the thick rippling scars Where I’ve welded them together Cannot always be polished out And that I’m gracefully constrained To be not a creator But merely a re-arranger. For There Can be no Bridge Without the Shore 9 Words are bridges in need of a shore. Their burdens are keyholes In a bolted cedar wood door, And for keyholes, we have, for making more, poems for shotguns. But, no matter how many poetically gunpowdered keyholes I arrange into these doors, I cannot seem to say what I see — do you see what I’m saying? Of course, I know you do but do you see what I see? There is One whose words rumble with undertones of reality, swallowing that abyssal gap called blindness resounding visceral and honey thick, sounding more violet than the one on my lips and on this page. Let them raise beaches from the bottom of the sea. 10 For There Can be no Bridge Without the Shore mallory: a collection by Chance Eubanks Photography by Noah Patton 12 mallory: a collection mallory: a colection 13 14 mallory: a collection mallory: a collection 15 16 mallory: a collection Arkansas St., bleak light, trafficky by Cullen Whisenhunt Sun sets full beneath cloud bank, burns an aggressive orange dying light. Leafless, gothic trees twist inky veins up, screening a silhouetted smokestack steeple. Off-white water tower gleams like an early moon, dimpled by black hole buzzards. Arkansas St., bleak light, trafficky 17 Illustrated by Michaela Jestis Cruci- fixion by Nicholas Zamir For me to reach my full potential My old self must die This can only be done There can only be one No one but God can change me For God to rape me Maim me Beat me Bruise me Until my old self withers away A few splashes of water by a priest are not enough to truly change a person The devil is truly stubborn and will put up far more of a fight than that God must be more fierce To pierce the evil out of you Crucifixion 19 The Way We Are by Salena Eckelhoff | Illustrated by Michaela Jestis Tap . tap . tap . tap . I "Umm hmm." Comes the lifeless look down at the space between us to see response. Trent incessantly tapping his fingers on I groan inwardly and decide I am the jeep's shift knob. I cannot stand that too worn out to try and keep this conver- tapping. “Only three more hours and sation going. we will be there,” I keep telling myself. We both hadn't had a vacation I breathe in, breathe out, and close my in over a year and had decided to take a eyes. couple days off work to go on a little get Trent and I have been together away. We were headed to a little camping now for over five years. We have had our site at a canyon that we had been mean- ups and downs, like most couples do, and ing to go to for forever. We had already I love him, I really do, but lately it seems been on the road for three hours, and every little thing he does, that I used to with three more hours left to go, I was overlook or even find adorable, irritates really feeling the need to get out of our me to no end. It's not just the tapping; it's small confinement.