Cantos a Literary and Arts Journal Missouri Baptist University 2 017 Cantos a Literary and Arts Journal
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Cantos A Literary and Arts Journal Missouri Baptist University 2 017 Cantos A Literary and Arts Journal EDITOR John J. Han ASSISTANT EDITORS Krista Krekeler Krista Tyson EDITORIAL ASSISTANTS Mary Ellen Fuquay Douglas T. Morris EDITORIAL INTERN Lucas Bennett (Abilene Christian University, TX) EDITORIAL CONSULTANTS Ben Moeller-Gaa C. Clark Triplett COVER ART COVER DESIGN Carol Sue Horstman Jenny Sinamon Cantos: A Literary and Arts Journal is published every summer by the Department of English at Missouri Baptist University. Its goal is to provide creative writers and artists with a venue for self-expression and to cultivate aesthetic sensibility among scholars and students. The views expressed in this publication are those of the authors and do not necessarily represent those of Missouri Baptist University. Compensation for contributions is one copy of Cantos, and copyrights revert to authors and artists upon publication. SUBMISSIONS: Cantos welcomes submissions from the students, faculty, staff, alumni, and friends of Missouri Baptist University. Send previously unpublished poems, short fiction, excerpts from a novel in progress, and nonfiction as e-mail attachments (Microsoft Word format) to the editor, John J. Han, at [email protected] by March 15. Send previously unpublished artwork, including haiga (illustrated haiku), as an e-mail attachment to the editor, John J. Han, at [email protected] by the same date. For more details, read the submission guidelines on the last page of this issue. SUBSCRIPTIONS & BOOKS FOR REVIEW: Cantos subscriptions, renewals, address changes, and books for review should be mailed to John J. Han, Editor of Cantos, Missouri Baptist University, One College Park Drive, St. Louis, MO 63141. Phone: (314) 392-2311/Fax: (314) 434-7596. Subscription rate for both individuals and institutions: $5 per issue purchased at MBU and $7 per mail-ordered issue. ISSN 2327-3526 (print) ISSN 2327-3534 (online) Volume 23—2017 https://www.mobap.edu/about-mbu/publications/cantos/ CONTENTS Poetry 4 “Hacker’s Hostage” and “Prisoner of My Cleanliness” Harding Stedler 5 “A Fundamental Truth” and other poems Janice Witherspoon Neuleib 8 Irish Wilderness C.D. Albin 9 “So Many Ways to Lose One’s Way” and other poems Mary Kennan Herbert 12 “The Turn of Season” and haiku Lori Becherer 13 “Lemon Tree” and other poems Gabrielle Copans 15 Three haiku from The Can John J. Dunphy 16 “Spring Hiking” and other haiku John Zheng 19 “sunny morning” and other poems Donald W. Horstman 25-35 FEATURED POET: Ben Moeller-Gaa 36 “Roads” and other poems Jim Barton 40 Clouds Roselyn Mathews 41 “Morning of White Butterflies” and other poems Leslie Scheuler 43 The Tetranella: A Brief Introduction and Examples James Maxfield 46 “On Doing the Laundry” and Other Poems Terrie Jacks 51 “Wild Swans Show the Way” and other poems Pat Durmon 53 “so this Christmas” and other tanka Cindy Tebo 54 “Mud Fight” and other poems Emma Kirksey 55 “Moon Glow” and other poems Marcel Toussaint 57 “Poised for Progress” and “Schoolday Docket” Raymond Kirk 58 “runny mead castle” and “whispering pines” Carol Sue Horstman 60 “Getting Caught” and “Katabasis” Frank Anthony Priest 61 Select Poems from MBU’s Creative Writing I Class Abigail Crain Anna Hughes Cragon McBride Crystal Zamarripa 66 Chinese poems by King Yeonsan Trans. John J. Han Prose 78 Grandmother’s Folly and Granddad’s Sacrifice: Memoirs Faye Adams 87 “My Daddy’s Dog” and My Brother’s Dream” Jo A. Baldwin 89 Hiking Muir Woods Leslie Scheuler 92 Just One of Life’s Little Absurdities Matthew R. Bardowell 101 Freeloading Turkeys Billy J. Adams 104 “Fostering Hope” and other essays Julie Sieber 114 The Ins and Outs of One Semester in Dublin, Ireland Abigail Crain 119 The Road Anna Hughes 2 Cantos: A Literary and Arts Journal On Writing Creatively 123 Looking Back, Looking Forward: Story-telling Poetry Jim Barton Visual Art by Josie Roth 6 Gray Red Artic 11 “Duke and Willie” 14 “Contained” 15 “Sail” 18 “Lady of the Sea” 35 “Spotted” 39 “The Nature of Knowledge” 40 “Friend or Foe” 45 “Forlorn” 52 “Incognito” 65 “Bernetta” 88 “Actias Luna” 91 “Versus Nature” 100 “Transparent” 103 “Incomplete” 120 “Contrasting” 121 “Juxtaposing” 126 Notes on Contributors 132 Submission Guidelines 3 _________________________________________________________Poetry A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. —Percy Bysshe Shelley The poetry of the earth is never dead. —John Keats Why should poetry have to make sense? —Charlie Chaplin 4 Cantos: A Literary and Arts Journal Two Poems Harding Stedler Hacker’s Hostage The computer hacker cast on me a curse. Three hours of telephone promises exploded at conversation’s end Prisoner of My Cleanliness when he told me everything he had promised How many attempts was a lie. and how many hours He charged merchandise would it take to set me free to my credit card from the tub and invaded my bank accounts. that would not let me out? He replaced my computer password Never had I been a prisoner with his own, and I could not of a bathtub before, get into my computer the night my legs and arms to retrieve my messages. quit and grew too weak for me to escape the tub. Without checks and credit card, Ultimately, panic set in I could no longer buy groceries when I realized I was a hostage or pay my monthly rent. and plummeted repeatedly I had no cash into the tub half filled with water. for the collection plate at church. I panicked in fear His last words were a demonic threat: that I would have to spend “I will destroy you financially,” the night submerged. he said, then burst into an evil laugh. No phone in the bathroom to call for help. Currently, I am the hacker’s hostage. All doors locked prevented anyone from coming to my rescue. A slippery ceramic tub said “no” to escape, said “no” to any more baths. I was at the mercy of the bathwater I had to drain from the tub, then vault my way to freedom. 5 “A Fundamental Truth” and Other Poems Janice Witherspoon Neuleib A Fundamental Truth Mysteries and puzzles, mystics and believers Stories and histories, myths and anecdotes Here’s a story that moves me deeply: A girl is born to parents who have promised her to a witch in exchange for a bite of spinach. The witch imprisons her in a tower. Her hair grows long; the witch uses these tresses to clamber to the prison bower. A prince rides by, hears the request for entry, and treats himself to the lush lady above. The witch sees, climbs, clips, and casts out. He loses his sight; the girl wanders off. Twins ensue. He finds her, claims her tears, regains sight, girl, and offspring. The mystery and myth here? Truth lies not in romance, not in love, not in redemption. Truth lies in suffering endured and life restored. That’s all I know or may ever hope to know. On the Morning Crosstown Train on the Way to Penn Station The man, ratty looking, a little pungent, leant in close to me. Me: “The AP reading will be during Lil’s graduation.” Sarah: “When?” The Man: “My best friend’s Mom was a cold-hearted Ph.D. She skipped his 6 Cantos: A Literary and Arts Journal graduation speech to read AP English. Me: “I’m that sort of cold- hearted woman,” as I slipped through the clamping subway doors, guilty, but unlikely ever to reform. His angry stare followed us down the platform, as we melted into the frozen, ambitious masses of New Yorkers, all abandoning their loved ones in a rush for the power and the glory. I’ve Never Been lucky in love. The palm reader explained that it’s something my ancestors did long ago. The lines for head and heart do not cross on my palms. This ancient magic ordained my solitary fate. But I’ve been ever so lucky in loving. I’ve loved deeply six children, sweetly twelve children, devotedly 158 doctoral students, patiently thousands of learners and readers, fondly and committedly one cat, one dog, and scores upon scores of others too many here to number. Josie Roth, “Gray Red Artic” 7 Cathedrals Make Me Cry My first experience of the numinous came when I first read Lassie Come Home. I was eight and cried because the old man said, “That’s not my dog,” when he looked at Lassie’s scarred feet. I recently told my friends Claire and Tom about that experience, and Claire quoted her mother as saying that one does not become fully human until one feels with another. My awe at the old man’s love and generosity still makes tears come to my eyes. But the beautiful and the spiritual combined knock me completely off my intellectual pedestal. I always travel with a Susan Howatch novel. This summer as I rocketed from one commitment to another, I reread Mystical Paths. When I got to the passage where Nickolas drives over the hills to Starbridge and sees the cathedral grow larger and larger each time it comes into view, my eyes again welled with tears. These experiences come unexpected, during a hymn or a choral piece (dangerous to vocal performance) in church or when reading a C. S. Lewis nonfiction work on a train. After my first readings of the Starbridge series, I went to Salisbury and woke the first morning to see the cathedral tower out my hotel window, then went to Sunday Pentecost service with the east light pouring over the congregation.