Survivor

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I Pavan Postlap SarIan 1983 FOREWORD

Dear Reader,

Welcome to the Fostlap Sarian (Latin: After the Fall) issue of the Favan. Well, we couldn’t call it our Fall Issue could we? Anyway, once again, the Favan is proud to display the Literary and Artistic endeavors of some of Saint Peter’s College’s most talented individuals. We apologize that this issue is a little late but we hope that the delay has been worthwhile.

It may seem odd to you that we titled this edition of the Pavan “SURVIVOR” and then put a picture on the cover that depicts a tragic scene where there were no survivors. But then, we dedicate this issue to not only the dead but to the living. Yes, this one is for you. This one is for the survivors because it is you who keeps alive the memoiy of those departed. Let those poor passengers on Flight 007, as well as the soldiers dying needlessly around the world, be a constant reminder of what fools we all can be.

On a brighter note, we hope that you enjoy this issue of the Pavan and if you have any comments, don’t hesitate to stop by and tell us. The Pavan office is located in Dinneen, Room 231. Also, just as a reminder, the Pavan is now accepting sub missions for the Spring edition. Short stories, poetry, photo graphs, and artwork are all needed. Remember, this is your literary magazine, without you we cannot survive.

THOMAS J. KOEHL Editor INDEX OF CONTRIBUTORS (Literary and Artistic)

Addison, Cametra 9 Castellitto, George 1 9 Erbach, Kathy 8, 1 7 Fay, Maria 1 7 Gleason, Williams 1 8 Hambos, Anne 14-15 Hardy, Sharon 21,25 Howard, Rita Anne 5, 20 Johnson, Iris 5 Koehl, Thomas J. 26 Urn, Francis cover, 16,28 Meola, Mark 4 Mezzina, Patti 24 Moran, Jim 23, 24, 26 Moreno, Alan 10-11,13 Naranjo, Aimee 7, 20, 21 Patti 22, 23 Ramos, Irene 20, 21, 24, 25,26 Rosario, Mary 27 Serra-Badue, Daniel 6, 8, 1 2 PAVA N. . .The LIterary Magazine of Saint Peter’s College POSTI.AP SARIAN

Editor Tom Koehl

Sr. Associate Editor Graphics Editor Jim Moran Irene Ramos

Business Manager Typing Editor Debbie Borja Rosa Fuentes

Editorial Assistants General Staff Aimee Naranjo Tony Durkin Francis urn Mark Meola Donna Di Corcia Judy Capron Sharon Hardy Cynthia Boutista Alan Moreno Patti Mezzina Bill Stafferd Rita Anne Howard Ty Agosta Elizabeth Varrichio Kristin Connolly Kathy Erbach

SPECIAL THANKS TO: Dr. Victoria Sullivan, who although she doesn’t know it, is the main driving force behind the Magazine. Dr. John Walsh for using “Three dollar words”. Anyway, we were as set as we were ever gonna be by the time the truck stopped. What we set up was this. One of us (that was Gus — he lost the toss) would hide in one of the crates with some of the nails QALLEY SEVEN pulled out so all he’d hafta do would be to push the side and slide out. Now, so that whoever was out there Mark Meolci would think he was in a different crate, I took his jacket and nailed it up tight in another crate but havin’ it stick out the teeniest bit just so’s you’d notice it. Hopefully they wouldn’t open it too quick, or at least give Gus a chance to sneak out and get some help. I don’t know how to begin no story, especially Anyway, when the doors opened we were in this one as unbelievable as this one. I didn’t go to high big old warehouse just lined with all sorts of crates. school. Hell, it took me long enough to get through The men who opened the doors wore coveralls but damn kindergarten.. But, I know how to tell the truth there were five men in black suits pointing guns at me and that’s what I mean to do and looking like they were gonna make me swiss Me and Gus was bootleggin’ this truck over the cheese and ask questions later, until they saw I was Alabama line late one night. We never know what alone. One of the guys in black suits, who was the we’re shippin’. It could be a bunch of jumpin kanga boss I guess, wasted no time and pointed the gun at roos for all we know or care. We just take the money my temple and asked me where the other guy was, they give us and ask no questions. while his buddies searched the truck. I was scared and nearly pissed in my pants. I knew he meant busi Now usually we don’t mix business with pleasure, ness and I nearly told him the truth right then and but since it was Gus’ birthday, plus the fact of us there — never mind he was gonna kill me anyway. gettin’ paid a whole lot of money in advance, we Just then one of his buddies yelled out and pointed to stopped off at Frankie’s for a few — maybe a few too the little bit of jacket. The boss-man smiled at me and many. Anyway, we finally head out, havin’ a good ole it wasn’t too hard for me to manage this real dis time, singin’ dirty songs and tllin’ stories about wo couraged look. Out of the corner of my eye I saw one men we said we knew but really only wished we did. of the guys motion his gun towards me, meaning did But I guess all that alcohol pricked our curiosities the boss feel my life should end just yet, but he said ‘cause Gus said since it was his birthday he wanted to to hold off and they’d “do us both at the same time.” take a look to see what was makin’ us rich so he could Luckily though, they decided to move the crates out thank it personally — meaning he wanted to find out first so there’d be more room to open them up. In the what the hell we was shippin’. mean-time they locked me up in this small room off to We pulled over to the side of the road, got out the side. About 20 minutes later there was a big com and tried to open the back but it was locked. But that motion and they dragged me out. Then the boss comes wouldn’t stop old Gus. He grabbed his shotgun from over to me and stuck Mr. Gun in my head again and under the front seat and blew that lock away. We told me to tell him where Gus was or he’d blow my opened it up and inside was about six of these huge head up in 2 seconds. To tell the truth I think this crates. In no time we had a crowbar and was openin’ time I did piss in my pants a little. But just then one one of them boxes up. It took us near an hour unwrap- of the cars behind us started up and startled every pin’ whatever it was. I figured it looked like a little body. Then before you knew it, it was coming straight blimp, about 7 feet long and weighin’ about 10 tons. at us. It was that boss fearin’ for his life then and he We looked at it a little closer and noticed stuff writ~ flew just as Gus collared me and pulled me over his ten on it like letters and numbers we couldn’t under lap and rammed through the door. We took off down stand. Finally I saw something I did understand the the road and I guess those guys thought we weren’t letters U.S.S.R. worth chasm’ cause they never came after us. We just stared at each other dazed and stupid for Me and Gus talked things over and finally we de a while since our brains were still under the influence, cided we’d take it to the cops. You could tell they until the doors slammed shut behind us and the truck didn’t believe us but finally they sent somebody to started up. Then we knew we were in a shitload of check it out. But when he got there all that cop found trouble. I guess whoever was shippin’ such secret stuff was this empty warehouse. We really got chewed out was keeping an eye out to make sure nothing went and spent the night in jail for our troubles. wrong, and they sure wouldn’t be too thrilled with All this happened about a year ago. Me and Gus the two half-drunk assholes who should’ve been mind- haven’t done much bootleggin’ since then. We haven’t in’ their own business and messed everything up. told no one about it either, but I figured I’d write it Yeah, we knew we were in big trouble so we started down and let people think what they like. That’s about brainstorming for ideas — though in our case it was it I guess. Oh, yeah, I got this terrible aversion to guns more of a brain-drizzle. We thought like we never now. I swear whenever I see one my heart drops down thought before until we came up with this one likely to my balls. And I think the whole incident sorta got idea. It wasn’t genius or nothin’, but hell, what do to Gus. He’s taken to readin’ spy novels and wants us would you expect from a couple of flunkies from some to go into business for ourselves. I tried to tell ‘em hick town in Alabama. We knew there wasn’t much of the only reason we’re alive is blind luck but once Gus a chance but it was so simple maybe they wouldn’t be gets an idea in his head gettin’ it out is like tryin’ to expecting it. draw water from a rock.

4 OUTSTRETCHED ARMS The outstretched arms on the cross Encompasssing the globe That old rugged cross The cross that points to all corners of the universe With those outstretched arms. Let me bend beneath those arms So that I never fail to feel their shelter Under the shadows of those outstretched arms Will I ever seek my refuge Where would I wish to go beyond those outstretched arms?

Under those outstretched arms I find — rest on the desert of my life. There is water to quench my thirsty soul There is ice to soothe my aching brow And there is peace to calm my troubled soul. Those outstretched arms Let me forever find comfort under those outstretched arms. Iris Johnson

HERE SHE GOES AGAIN I hate you. A cut-and-dried emotion, no room for doubt. I let you in and you cut me out. The look in your eyes said, ‘I could love you someday, The rest of you said, ‘Just walk on away.’ Cut me to the bone with each observation, Correctly you second-guess, to my consternation. The look in your eyes said, ‘I understand,’ The rest of you said, ‘Will you be my friend?’ So we laugh and we talk

with all pressure off . Your soft drawling voice said, ‘I really care,’ My attitude was, ‘I.ove me if you dare.’ We crash together like sea on the rocks Sharing with laughter complete lack of socks.

So easy together, so loving and free — We’re confusing the hell out of me! I love you. Rita Anne Howard

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Self-Portrait From an Old Photograph Daniel Serra-Badue That Was Never Taken, ‘1972

6 qualffication full humans always insist on knowing, The Grey HciIred PolIceman name! “I don’t know what I am, never mind who I am, Aimee Narcinlo so why should I classify myself,” Virginia replied. The policeman said nothing as Virginia went on “Why did you do it?” asked the semi-grey haired talking, “Entrap something no one has the vaguest policeman. Virginia looked up with no intentions of idea where it came from or where it’s going in a answering him. Why should she? Ever since the in simple name! The single one disease that is killing cident had occured, she hadn’t spoken a word. Why this human race is monomania and they don’t even the hell should she! It’s no one’s business why anyone know it. You all have to put to dormancy your multi does anything. To account for something you have farious whole. What damn fools! But I can’t blame done — what nerve! you, after all none of you has ever flown.” However, there was something in this entity, some “All right, that’s enough, just state your damn name,” unwanted familiarity which incited a response in her. said the policeman annoyed. “She was there,” Virginia answered. That was the “Virginia Paz.” replied Virginia without looking honest truth. She had no other reason nor did she care at him. to seek for one or two. “Kill the Evil Bitch. Kill that murdering devil,” A sadness overcame the policeman and Virginia someone had managed to sneak their way up to the noticed him silently walking away. She normally outside room and was yelling. The grey haired police doesn’t notice those things because she rarely looks at man re-entered the room and pushed Virginia into people for more than two seconds. They bore her so, another. His hard touch was alien to her. He had just like this whole situation was boring her already. acted quite different with her before. The room was She kept thinking why she persisted on looking at this pleasant to her human senses but it frustrated the bird creature — this grey haired policeman. That also sur in her. It had a light blue color which reminded Vir prised her, thinking that is, it’s such a waste of time. ginia so much of the vastness and nothingness of her His hair was about sixty percent grey and for flights. “Ah, to do nothing, to hear nothing, to think some reason Virginia became overwhelmed with the nothing; what an extrodinary feeling, what ecstasy!” desire to count them. It became an obsession. She Virginia thought. tried to get up and go over to his head but someone When the hairs re-entered the room some time later, shoved her down into the most indescribable hardest he found Virginia laying on her stomach, on top of a piece of contraption she’s ever sat on. Again someone table. He immediately inquired why she didn’t sit on was redirecting her energies. Again, someone was con the chair and what she was doing on the table. trolling her actions. It had been that way all her life. “The room so reminded me of the sky, I took a That’s why she treasured so much the times she had quick fly around it. I must say its dimensions are not the power to fly. Those times no one could hold her the best . . .“ he quickly interrupted her by saying back, and for only one reason, no-one was there to “Shut up and sit down.” hold her back. Oh, no one but the birds. The birds Virginia sat down without saying a word. The understand though, they understand freedom. As a grey haired policeman turned his back on her and matter of fact her best friends are birds. Don’t mis walked over to a small framed window. He dragged understand, we full humans have a talent for that. The his feet and shrugged his shoulders. Virginia remained birds are her best friends but they are not closer to motionless, looking at his head. her, they are the furthest away. Virginia has never flown side by side with anyone of them. None of them The grey haired policeman finally turned around have ever bothered with her, which is the true defini and in a loud voice, almost in agony said, “Why did tion of a “friend.” Birds are the wisest of all creatures. you do it, she was an innocent little girl.” If there was ever a feeling of admiration in Virginia, Virginia went over to him and carefully placed it was for the birds. her hands over his left shirt pocket and said, “Why Tonight she didn’t fly. Not because she wasn’t did you do it, they were only inocent little boys.” able to, but because she didn’t want to. Being still par The two stared into each others eyes as two lovers tially confined to the human race, Virginia felt the sharing a common thought, a common feeling, nurtur forces of gravity pulling her tonight. She didn’t go ing a common pain. At this moment two plain clothes far, she never does. It upsets her so to have to stop for policemen walked in the room. One walked over to green lights, red lights, walk signs, don’t walk signs Virginia and ripped her away and out of the room. and ail the other little proverbial games that one must The grey haired policeman turned around and walked play when one simply wants to walk. over to the window. The other plain clothed cop was Still curiously perplexed by the simple contrast busy with some papers and did not notice him or his of the grey and black hairs on that curious character, abrupt departure and walked over to the window him Virginia sat staring for what must have been a good self, still reading a paper. He placed his hand with half an hour. I lie, for it could’ve been a minute or a unintentional ease upon the window ledge. “Shit,” he hundred years. Time is one of those non-substantial pinched his finger with something and screamed. He securities that to it, one should put no mind. All of a was able to lick off two drops of blood running down sudden, she was invaded again with questions. This his punctured finger. A third drop however, fell on whole situation wasn’t just getting to be awfully tire top of a rusted war metal now detached from him some but also redundant. First, was that system of that never will be.

7 Daniel Serra-Badue Roma Aetema, 1975

A SOUND IS HEARD IN ROMAH It was awful. there was blood and there were tears. There were dead babies In the streets Dead. Swords slashed unmercifully But precisely and with care And then was screaming And the sound Was terrifying! Then it was over Women collected their baby boys They scraped them from the stones and held them in their arms Not one was over two years old And no one understood Why? Except him and his parents And they got away in time

Kathy Erbach 8 MY GREATEST STRENGTH I admire you for all that you are; for all that you are to be; for all that you’ve been; and, for all that you want to be. I share all of your pain; all of your sorrow; all of your hopes; and, dreams for a better tomorrow. If I am weak when I should be strong, you are my strength to carry on. I respect you when you’ve been defeated; when you don’t speak up when you’ve been cheated; and, “where you lend a hand “when” you feel you are needed. You are my inspiration; my way to motivation. And you are for the reasons I am who I am, but sometimes not how I am. I understand you when you don’t with the world compete; when you don’t look at yourself with so full of conceit; when you don’t give in for the world’s way to succeed; and, when trouble arises, when you feel you have to, but you don’t recede. If you fail because your steps seem few, “Don’t give up, Renee!” I’m lust a step behind you. I believe in you when you’re in a bit of doubt; when lied on; when cheated; and, when also talked about. I see you in a million smiles, and in the tears of a little

child. This is the strength Renee, in my eyes — mind-and-heart, “My Greatest Strength,” that only comes from you.

Cametrci Addison

9 buy land in Texas. I was one of the first settlers you know.” “You don’t mean back in the twenties of course,” said Scott trying to educate the fellow; Ramsey didn’t APrLLI~ acknowledge. Jules looked at this middle aged man wondered what his business here is. iri~i~ “So you say you’re wealthy.” Alan Moreno “Did you lose it all?” The property seemed boundless. The house some “No. Just traded in all my assets for cash; I de where within seemed unreachable. But to Mr. Jules cided it be good for my health to retire.” Scott, a man of the eighties, nothing was unreachable. Mr. Ramsey went to the side of the house and He set out from his home and place of work, the picked up an empty wooden basket and a ladder and state of Pennsylvania to the southwest, Texas. The proceeded to the tree; he began to pick apples. railroad company he worked for was expanding that way. The owners had intentions of setting up lines to “Is that the only thing you do now?” asked Jules Mexico and the southwest pacific area, going through with a touch of mockery. Texas. He was in a high position in the company hier “Yep. Gave up the world for this.” Ramsey archy. This time he figured he’d do something for him slightly smiled. Jules didn’t believe a word. “So you self. gave up all your property and decided to become a He took out a loan and headed to Texas to buy recluse here at home is that it?” property which he knew would be of interest to the “Home? This is not a home. Home was New York. railroad. This eState he was on was the most reward I just told you this was an investment. It became more ing tract he (and the company) could use. He always later,” said Mr. Ramsey with a tone of regret. wanted to buy and sell acreage. “You grew to love it?”, conjectured Jules. The gates of the wall surrounding the estate’s “No!” barked Ramsey. ranch ranch house were locked. He jumped over; it looking abandoned convinced him no one would mind Jules was offended. “Mr. Ramsey, let me get to the trespass. No one knew of Mr. Scott’s presence in the point. I’d like to buy this land. You don’t take Texas, which is what he liked. He wanted to remain care of it so let me take it off your hands. You’d be a unseen until he was to purchase the land. The ranch fool not to accept my offer.” house was two leveled, built with timber, not from “Not interested.” Mr. Ramsey stepped down. He stone or clay. It’s front porch was decorated with an looked Jules in the face. “I can’t, sony.” He laid down old dirty white bench with what looked like a lady’s the basket by the side of the house and put the ladder fan resting on it. back in its place. Jules walked over to the porch. The shutters were falling off. The lawn was dead. “What’s your price?” he asked. Beyond the house, almost behind it there were a de lapidated barn or stable and the burnt ruins of some “Have none,” replied Mr. Ramsey. Jules observed structure; there was nothing more save dirt. It all the fan. “Why don’t you ask your wife? I’m sure she’d looked abandoned; so it seemed peculiar that from like a more pleasant surrounding.” the dried lawn would grow a large, bountiful apple “I’m not married.” tree. “Who’s fan then?” “What are you doing down there “It came from above, a strong demanding voice. Mr. Scott looked up “That was given to me by my fiancee’ as a re to a window. There stood a husky fellow with a long memberance.” Jules smiled. “We parted long ago.” brown beard with some grey in it and hair almost Something in his voice made Jules straighten up and feel sorry he mentioned it. He decided to change the shoulder lengh tied in a tail. He was in a tattered shirt with puffed sleeves. “Pardon me sir. I didn’t think any subject. one was living here.” “You built this house yourself?” “I can understand that. Wait there, won’t you?” “No. I had a group of Mexicans working for me.” The figure left the window and reappeared soon at Mr. Ramsey grew tense. the front door; they approached each other. “You let them go?” Ramsey looked annoyed with “My name’s Jules Scott, I’m thinking of settling the interview. here in Texas. I was passing this tract and thought I’d “Let’s talk about something else, about out there,” review the premises.” Ramsey said this as he looked out beyond the gate. “My name is Ramsey, Mr. Ramsey to everyone. “If you’re interested in what’s out there, why don’t you So thinking of buying land. I remember when I first see it for yourself?” asked Jules, Ramsey simply re settled here. I was a trader in the east, wealthy. Yes plied,. “Can’t.” There was a thick silence; Jules won I was good at my work. I always saw opportunity dered why this gentleman had turned hermit Ramsey before anyone. There was opportunity here. You know leaned on the porch post: by the time I was 35 I could retire. Then I decided to “You look shaken, are you all right?”

10 “Why ye. . . well, no. Pardon me Jules but I’m “There was an opportunity,” jested Jules, “tour afraid you’ll have to leave. I can’t keep you any longer; ism. and I’m sorry, I can’t sell the land.” Ramsey looked dis “Every word of this is true; and what’s more is tressed; he excused himself and rushed inside locking the apples seemed to have a healing effect. That’s the door. Mr. Scott stood there puzzled, then offended why I offered you the cider for your bruise.” Ramsey and his short temper stirred. He walked away from looked at the rejected offering and then gulped it the house back to his horse which was outside the down. “There was an older servant who was ifi; he gate, now watching him. He was passing the large took some apples and felt 100 percent better. I myself apple tree; Mr. Ramsey’s prized possession he thought, used to limp from a sporting accident — it has healed when he noticed a hatchet on the ground. He picked completely — I saw the opportunity, as well as the it up and was contemplating of angrily throwing it hazards. I gathered the servants together; there were at the apple tree. He raised his arm high, took aim about fifteen, men, women, children. They lived in the front door swung open, out came Ramsey there.” He pointed to the ruins. running toward Jules, holding something? Jules con tiriued to aim the hatchet; he thought he’d tease “I asked them to keep the tree a secret. I told Ramsey. them I could make them all rich. They told me it * * * * would be an offence to the almighty to make a profit from this gift.” Jules interrupted, “your servants all Jules awoke with a headache; he was on the dried spoke English?” lawn. When he became concious of all his senses he realized he was tied up, his hands behind his back. “No. There was a couple, married I think, they He looked around for Mr. Ramsey; it was dark out, spoke English and translated. I don’t know where they he called outloud for Mr. Ramsey. The elder man learned it. Why are you asking? Oh. Of course you’re came out from the house, meekly. “I’m sorry Jules; trying to catch me in a sort of a lie.” Jules nodded. I don’t know what got into me.” “Go ahead, forget I asked.” Ramsey annoyed with “Untie me Ramsey or I’ll have you arrested,” Jules’ skepticism continued. threatened Jules. “Tha± night . . .“ he choked on his words, “I “Please don’t Jules,” asked Ramsey calmly. Jules Eventually I convinced them to keep quiet until that was scared; he knew he’d offend Ramsey but did he Sunday when we would present the apples in church need to be tied? Mr. Ramsey came over to Jules, — like a surprise offering.” His eyes swelled with tears; helped into a sitting position on the ground and Jules watched wondering why. offered him a glass of apple cider he brought out “That night .. . “ he choked on his words, “I set with him. Jules smirked and refused it. He waited set their quarters on fire. I stood outside with several and then like a small child Jules said, “I’m sorry Mr. pistols and a club . . . I . . .“ He began to sob. Ramsey. You think you could untie me now?” Jules was terrified — he feared for his own safety. “You shouldn’t of tried to hurt the tree,” advised Ramsey continued, “I laid in bed later; outside it Ramsey. His eyes gazed outward, away. His face had began to rain heavily, putting out the fire. I lay there a daydreaming look. His tranquility made Jules gulp. with my pistol in my hand.” He wiped his nose with “Can I tell you a story?” asked Ramsey. “Sure, I his palm, blinked hard and wiped the tears from his got nothing to do except sit around all night,” said face. With a hard face he went on, “As I lay there, Jules with a forced smile. I thought I heard whispers. Suddenly my bedroom door was pushed open. I sat up. There were the ser “Thank you. This is the first time I’ve wished vants’.. . ghosts. The gun dropped; no, it was pulled to tell this; you can say this is like a confession.” from my hand. One spirit, the one who spoke for the Ramsey proceeded, “I bought this land soon after the others to me, said I was not to die just yet; instead, Mexicans allowed settlement; I had the servants erect I was to live, to live in good perfect health, on my this house. I was using it as an office as well as sleep property. . . . with only myself for company. I thought ing quarters, for visitors—prospective land buyers and of my fiancee’, like I had never done before; and just developers. I remember I was also expecting my fian then the other english speaking servant, the woman, cee’ from New York to come visit. One day a wan her ghost came forward. She told me my financee’ derer came with a proposition for me. He said he’d would arrive to see me — there had been an accident plant an apple tree in my front lawn if I let him stay — a candle in her hotel room stayed lit after she fell the night; he was supposedly tired from traveling. asleep; somehow a spark caught on to a curtain. As I didn’t trust him for a minute — the servants liked they faded away I felt faint, nauceous — the tree — him, he was Mexican. I guess I could’ve let him stay in damn that tree, I forced myself out of bed and rushed their quarters; but anyway, I had blown a business downstairs, found a hatchet, the same one you held deal earlier that day and me being angry, I told him and made for the tree. As I approached it I saw a to go away. He left, but before he did he planted little girl leaning against it. She was almost six; she some seeds anyway; I said nothing. Three days later was dead. She told me to kill the tree would mean a full grown apple tree stood in front of my bedroom my death; I decided to run away. She told me to leave window. it would have the same affect. I collapsed; I was The servants thought it was a sign of some sort; fainting. The rain felt cool; I began to think it was they began to pray under it, hurried to pick apples a nightmare. I heard the woman’s voice, “What my from it and they scolded me for being rude to the child has told you is true.” I then heard the man’s, stranger.” “Forget the east, your business, your friends; tend

11 —

I

Imprisoned Shopping Bag, 1982 Daniel Serra-Badue 12 only to the tree, pick its apples and live on them... all ~control. He began to crush apples with his two forever . . . or take the hatchet and . . .“ I was un hands and stomp on others with his boots. Meanwhile concious; but I know what he’s going to say. Ramsey, leaning against the house for support, pleaded I never kept company again; my fiancee’s family and cried, “please don’t Jules, no more! Please Mr. tried to contact me, I never got back to them. Mean Scott, please Mr. Scott. You’ll kill me.” His voice while I sold everything. I had no family of my own lowered from loud pleas to soft whispers and groans. so I was never really missed. I never spoke to anyone Mr. Scott had his back to Ramsey. He studied an other than various tax collectors again. apple, broke at his feet. He pressed it into the infer tile ground with his boot. “Look Rams, look I’m Jules wes strangely puzzled; he recalled some planting my own!” thing trivial. “You settled here when? Ramsey was dead, his mouth wide open, his eyes “In the twenties, I was about 43.” Ramsey’s eyes frightfully staring . . . staring. gazed outward towards the gate, the horse, beyond. Jules couldn’t believe his ears. He concluded that * * * * Ramsey was mad, driven crazy by his crime. Either that or Ramsey was the healthiest centennerian he’d Mr. Scott spent the next two days alternating ever seen. Ramsey got up and began to walk to the between the solitude of his hotelroom and the comfort porch; he turned. “I’m not going to kill you in case of the saloon. On the third day, as if nothing had that thought entered your mind.” occurred he visited the tax collector; he stated he was interested in a tract of abandoned property north “What do you intend to do?” of the office and wished to know who owned it. To Ramsey turned away. “I have been so lonely, so get out of the office the collector offered the courtesy desperately lonely. I wonder if you can appreciate of a formal introduction between Mr. Scott and Mr. that.” Ramsey. Mr. Scott asked some questions pretending Jules was chilled to the marrow. He realized that he was not acquainted with Ramsey. How long had Ramsey been the owner? Since he’s been collecting, this crazy man was going to keep him for company — forever. Jules was to die in the vain effort of keeping ten years. Before that? The property’s been in the Ramsey company eternally. He began to weep; then name of Ramsey as far back as the records go — with a child’s sincere curiousity, he asked, “have you sometime after annexation. When did Mr. Ramsey given up on killing yourself?” inherit? He didn’t know; he only knew he had to go to Ramsey’s to collect the taxes, it was arranged that “I’ve grown too scared,” replied Ramsey. “Of way some time in the past. Mr. Scott had asked these what?” asked Jules. questions also to know mor eabout Ramsey’s past. “Of Hell, of meeting God and experiencing his They reached the gate; dismounted and called wrath.” Ramsey looked down at his feet and shook for Ramsey. No answer. They scaled the gate, reached his head in disbelief at what he was even thinking. the porch and the tax collector knocked on the front “I’ve chosen the better of my two fates; I have eaten door—no answer—he then thought about going around the apple and I had from his punishment.” the side of the house. Mr. Scott sat on the porch Jules, trying his best to influence Ramsey said, holding the fan looking at the dying tree — smiling. “living here, like this — it seems like Hell to me. Ram “Hey! Hurry up come back here!” The collector sey went to bed disregarding Jules opinion. had discovered the corpse. Mr. Jules Scott sighed and Mr. Scott sat there a long time with his hands stepped off the porch and had just made the turn . behind his back, hopeless. He then noticed something He let the fan drop. which made him feel — delighted. Apparently Ramsey “What are you waiting for? Come here!” the never knew how to tie a taut knot. He freed himself, collector ordered. He stepped back. regained hope, sprang up and again grew angry. He looked for that hatchet, found it and then began the “Come here! Help me with this guy. What are assault. you looking at? What’s the matter with you? He stood before the tree; after a little bit he Jules stood motionless, like Ramsey. He stared, began to hack. Again and again he hacked at its trunk, like Ramsey. Jules then, remembering that he wasn’t Its bark flew off, its woody matter exposed to every Ramsey, turned quickly around scaled the gate got blow. The scar widened and deepened; its life robbed on his horse and rode away, eastward. from it. Ramsey had come back down, awakened from The collector had vainly tried to call him to stop; his sleep. Ramsey’s body stunk, was hard to handle due to rigor “No! Stop! What are you doing?! Please, stop!” mortis and the collector really didn’t know what to do. With his hand over his nose he looked observing Mr. Scott circled the tree making a scar eight the expression on Ramsey’s face. Heart attack? Con inches wide all around. Once he had finished he sumption And his eyes, what was he staring at, if marched to the side of the house and began to toss that’s what he was doing? Just then the collector out the contents of the baskets; he then broke the noticed a breeze blowing from the west; he listened baskets to pieces. He began to throw the apples at to the pleasant tranquil sound of it blowing through the house and at Ramsey who had followed him. the leaves; and out of the corner of his eye he thought “Go to Hell Ramsey! Go to Hell you old, crazy he saw, for a moment, a little girl playing under the murderer!” Mr. Scott had lost all reason, all sentiment, large, bountiful apple tree by the side of the house.

13 The distant highway lights sing sweet memories Inside the crevices of my life; the decay of the night; of far-away rhymes. The crumbling cracks of my mind. Yellow chambers of white moon-lit skies echo to The humming continues . . . neons grow bright. ~ moon-dance on distant shores. How the shadows sound the morning gates — as the rumbling clouds Phantoms of darkness are heard — distant voices — clash with the humming of the still night. strange signs of somewhere in the past. Headlights, reflect like mirrors on tenament walls. A sigh of Clicking machines drenched in oil and grease, auto lost expectations, drowned by the humming, which matically blurting out my thoughts; spurting out continues. my words; drowning the raceway of traffic — the Grows louder, closer, passes by; cars pass by; trucks raceway of Time. lourney by and...

My sehses feel weak, but the humming continues .

— j

Shadows in the distance grow cold; fevers damp and sweaty;

Images of people — mere shallow “forms” in the forest

of ghosts — yet ghosts do not exist anymore, except in dreams, and in the corner of your eyes. Sprinkle my eyes, cause the highway spits out pain, •1* and lights too, grow dim in the hollows of dawn. Anne Hcimbos

~

. ..~ ..,~ .~

..~

r!..fr — • 16 Francis Lim WHISPERS Somethings are only spoken in whispers when feelings are unsure or privacy is valued when deep thoughts or secret information needs to be revealed. In a dimly lit room or, better yet, no light at all, so eyes can’t speak the feelings that lie behind them things that are scarey to say things that are important to say but are rarely spoken things that sit in your heart for

long times waiting for — the moment. Things that may never be mentioned again

they slip out once — In a moment of trust and confidence and are never repeated. A pleading prayer; a brother’s frustration; a mother’s worry; a sinner’s pennnance; a dying man’s will; a heart-to-heart; an apology. . . a good-bye. Kathy Erbach

SPEAK SOFTLY Speak softly my love everyone will hear. Speak softly my love we’re the only ones who care. They flash their golden lewelry as if to say, “We’re here” They flash their empty smiles as if to say, “We hear.” I know they’re only loking; they speak but nothing’s meant. I know they’re only gloating but the bullet has been sent. They’ll see my body bleeding; they’ll see my oozing head. They’ll see the damage has been done; they’ll see, “My love, I’m dead.” Maria Fay

17 dinner at a local restaurant. He entered the building A and walkedGeorge straightwas on hisfor waythe elevatorback to thatworkwasafteropen.havingHe stepped in and moved to one side and started to press N button“Hold that51 whenelevator!”he heard a woman’s voice call out, Sylvia hurried through the open doors and met

Q George“Whatfaceistothatface.supposed“Oh! It’stoyou,”mean?”she said. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

to riseTheslowly.doors Sylviaclosed pressedsilently andbuttonthe 50.elevator started T George felt uneasy. He was having trouble finding

very first date. Sylvia was watching the lights above H the door,right slowlywords countingto say, justoff likeeachafloor.young“Whyboy doesn’ton his anyone get on?” she thought. “It feels like it will take

foreverVeryto sheepishlyget there.” George asked, “Where are you E going?”

really matter?” R Sylvia’s reply was short and cutting. “Does it “Well, I thought —“ “You thought. Ha! You should have thought a couple of weeks ago.” Every word seemed like a knife cutting him into little pieces.

“Don’t“What keepam I remindingsupposed tome,”do? GeorgeMake likepleaded.it never C happened?” Tears started to swell up in Sylvia’s blue

dark night. H eyes Georgemakingfeltthema tremendousglisten likeurgetwo tostarsholdonhera inclearhis arms because he knew she didn’t belong to him any- A more.understand.He neverShe wasmeantjustitatoclientbe thisof oursway.and“Youthedon’tonly time I could meet with her was after work. She was

a big way. He knew I was the best man to handle N thean importantjob.” client and Dave wanted this account in “You sure did handle it. She had her arms all over C you “ButwhenSylvia,I cameshein.”had one too many drinks and was just showing her appreciation for our firm’s concern.” E Revlon“Somewithappreciation.her lipstick allYouoverlookedyou. Howlike acouldposteryou?”for “Sylvia, please, can’t we talk this over without trying to hurt each other anymore I’m sorry and I wish it had never happened.” “So am I,” Just then the elevator stopped at the 33rd floor. A cleaning woman managed to get all her paraphernalia on before the doors closed. She pressed button 48. There was complete silence till the 48th floor when the woman got off. After the doors closed and the elevator rose, George said, “Let’s talk about this at dinner to morrow night at 7 at the Brass Ring.” The elevator slopped and the doors opened on the 50th floor. Sylvia started to walk out and turning her head towards him said, “We’ll see, George. Good William Gleason night”

18 AN INTRICATE JOURNEY If this redundancy, this gaping flower, This sealess wilderness, this silent rock, This alternation of sweet wine and gall, (Continue with a thousand images From various spheres and forms until the list Ends in a hollow, insubstantial howl) Is really life essentially, then let Each metaphor, each raw experience Dissolve until I stand as man untouched By consciousness, and I become a clod, Walking each step until the actual step And solid ground are one or none and I Can count the hours under a curtain That never will be pierced by night’s trauma. The finite creature in this formed array Is really lust a carpet mingled with The gelatin of soul or some dark thing That will not rest upon the possible bed, But starts sleeplessly at a thousand dreams Derived from every sunset..to~dusk space. These lines are no solution in themselves, But lust an affirmation that, as man, Each man can never really be affirmed. The Desk at 8:05 Behind the armor of my day And its redundancies, A thousand flowers bloom and die, A single petal licks the sky And settles in the slate. Behind the fresh crease in my pants And my neat Windsor knot, An old man lives in his old sheets, A man that time forgot, But one who still walks straight. So, kill the miser, burn the book, And move the furniture. In the cold waves of this freezing sea There is an overture That is exempt from worldly freight. George Castellitto

19 She runs daintily, like a Persian But her Siamese eyes are blue. Such tiny paws for such sharp claws, And she never bothers to sheath them As she dances on my back. Purring softly to the world Her vicious streak comes toward me. I sometimes think she has as many faces As lifetimes. She spits caustic poison, my spiteful little cat, Treated as a kitten, petted and indulged. She wears a moustache of milk As the ultimate sign of approval. Sleep well tonight, precious kitty; Tomorrow I’m buying a Doberman. Rita Anne Howard

INNOCENCE

The noose hung high over my head — Swaying gently in the pulsating wind Yet not nearly high enough to escape this miscarried justice. What brought me two inches from this

rope — From this wretched coil that would steal my existance and then have no use for it?

Cheers came from the heartless

savages looking on — What primitive phantoms of life are these that cheer my end! What possible point is there in this? What is my crime?! I saw my fate in these darkly creatures And the rope coming down. I HAVE DONE NOTHING! Aimee Naranjo

20 CHICKEN OF THE SEA She is wallowing in the pooi Of her own blood. They gawk. These tourists, she thinks, as they watch Her die. Death means nothing to her now, For she has escaped an even worse death.

She would not be canned — She had her children to think of. The circle of onlookers, too queasy and Eager to wet their feet in the lapping waves Of her blood, discuss her escape from The net, or the hook, or the boat? They’re not sure. It looks as if she put up Quite a struggle. As she washed helpless to shore, did they See smaller ones swimming away? They wonder. She laughs at them And coughs. Her gray, bloodstained carcass, only Moving now if the waves so desire, Is smiling As the tourists take snapshots. THE END

Sharon Hardy The End — Mangled bodies in hierarchal blend

The Flames — ~ Construction destructed, no one to blam

The Explosion — No time for a commotion

~ jj ~‘ Reason: The Fame i~. I. ‘~) )/ Or little boys playing a game Some to left, some to right leaning

The proverbial Beginning — Aimee Naranjo

21 “KNOWING STRANGERS” We stop, stare at one another knowing no one could touch the other lust as we have. A pause, breath of exclamation then relief flooding our damnation as we realize this dream has ended while we waltzed in our private circles fearing naught but fantasy would bind us. We gaze deeply at reflections •seeing nothing but intersections where our roads met. Caught in the center we repel from one another losing all ability to reason

why this should be. :‘t::i -~ We move slowly from each other in a dance separated only by a feeling so overwhelming it’s amazing we’ve lasted this long. Despite diverse advertisity we rose above the sadness faced the edge of madness only to be severed by our love. Patti

22 “ILLUSION” You come to me in misty moonlight soft a spectre dreamlike holds my heart aloft Strands of silver streak across pitch skies diamonds swirling in molten amber eyes. My touch disturbs the peaceful countenance arise the ripples from the nymphet’s dance, As moths do with their wispy wings enflame the embers glow while breezes sing your name. My heart longs but to feel your tender touch and hear you speak the word that means so much. You haunt my dreams and fill the sleepless nights with you I soar to passion’s endless heights. This world I’d leave behind to flee with you so that our love could at last renew. But yet I fear that you may be a dream awakeyou may not be all that you seem. Still hold me close each night before the dawn and disappear in mist across the lawn. Patti

23 In liquid security there is warmth knees upon chest in slow-motion revolution completely dependant with an intense happiness that is only temporal with no thoughts, only feelings time only seems unending. within the tight walls while a breath of water sustains this peace

levitation — Shattering light arrives with thundering noise. You can never go back again. Jim Moran

Dust-moted memeries are Cleared out with sunbeams, that Explore with stiff And angular fingers of light. Rocking-chair memories return Of pine and lace And soft lines Worn by years of love. Dust-jacketed books Crack open with longing

To impart their perhaps — forgotten Knowledge of the past. Boxes of dusty nostalgia are Packed with stories of yesterdy. This other world Beckons for me to stay, But I turn away wearily, Knowing that it’s not possible. Patti Mezzina

24 ment and I spun faster, Were I in the ocean, I would Other Fish have created a whirlpool. Sharon Hardy Yes, that’s exactly what it was, a whirlpool. It gushed by me, churning and rheophile and salty. I would have liked to have watched the black There were so many fish. And you, having left the plastic turning circles as the needle would have stream center of my life, became one of those fish. Yet you lined through its grooves. It would have been relaxing. used your fins in spite against me. You splashed the But it’s a cassette tape, so I peer through the gray- water back against me, slandering the flowing waves. tinted, plastic door and watch the gears spinning. My You got salt in my eyes. Why? Were you jealous of head is spinning. I turn the volume as loud as possible. the other fish? I hear nothing. No sound penetrates my ears, for the Now, I cannot see you. The salt fills my eyes. And sounds inside my head are louder. I am confused. yet, I see other fish. They don’t swim against me, they “I remember a time when I tried to run away swim with me. Sometimes, I swim in other circles, too. from my life. You were there, holding my hand, keep Maybe I’m just another fish. Maybe you’re just an ing me from running astray. Instead, I ran in circles other fish. around my life, around you. You were my rock, my Staring through the gray-tinted plastic, I realize fortress, my guide. You pulled me closer and the that the tape has spun onto another reel. I close my circles got smaller. My gratitude and love were and eyes and I can hear the music. I listen and smile. As are unbounded. You’ve helped me stand firm. the tape comes to an end, the music stops. I press a Yet, it was only for a time. Soon I discovered that button and the door pops up. I take out the cassette by pivoting I could see more, watch more, experience and put it in its own plastic cover, then I place it care more. I didn’t want to miss a thing. I revelled in my fully on the shelf. new-found vantage. I was ecstatic at each new mo And I swim away.

25 CONFUSION As I die from all my passion, is it wrong to feel the pain? Hey your dress is out of fashion or perhaps I’ve gone insane. What’s it like to be a dreamer when your dreams lust won’t come true? Am I sure I’m not a screamer? Am I sure that’s really you? Could I be a true believer? What’s it like to love a stone? If to love her is to leave her, than I’d rather be alone alone... alone... Tommy Koehi

SEASIDE AUBADE The earth shivered under nocturnal cover With the waves roaring to the beach, then hissing away. You are the only one on the icy sand Under the blinking lights in the immense darkness You struggle for security in my hands The moments tick away without much thought And the screaming seagulls summon the light While we come closer together under the bluer sky The west wind whispers under the morning star And EQS spreads her white wings on the horizon. Jim Moran

26 S,~ecia€ ‘A$€e444,ed

To J.C. WILL YOU EVER? Will you ever forgive what I’ve done? Will you ever consider it to be done? What should I do so you would realize, That I love you still. Can’t you see it in my eyes How long will your bad feelings for me last? Won’t you please forgive me and put, What happened in the past? I’m standing in here talking, trying not to cry. Won’t you understand? Won’t you at least try? What is done is done and I really do regret. Can’t you please forgive me? Won’t you please forget? I love you still in a very special way, And this feeling increases a little more each day. Remember this was written with a pen, sealed with a kiss I pray to God to bless the hands that open this From S.B.

COME HOME SOLDIER MAN Come home a soldier man. Come home taller. Come home stronger. Come home disciplined. Come home wiser. Come home a lady’s man. Come home to those who love you. Come home on leave. Come home promoted. Be sent to other nations and politics. Come home with medals of honor and bravery. But Soldier Man, don’t come home to Arlington Memorial for your heroism and courage.

Dedicated to Alberto Mantifia, United States Marines Henry Padua, United States Air Forces and all the men in the armed services. Mary Roscirio

27 WHY?

Francis Lim

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