CABABI ISSUE 7 ART AND LITERARY MAGAZINE POETRY PROSE VISUAL ART 2020/2021 EDITORIAL BOARD Editor-in-chief & Publications Supervisor SPECIAL THANKS Molly McCloy Managing Editor Mike Rom Dr. Kenneth Chavez and Dolores Duran-Cerda for funding and overseeing Student Chief Design and Layout Editor ABOUT THE COVER this project. Laura Rincon (Lari) April Burge for her expertise and guidance. Copy and Design Editors Terry Filipowicz And to Laura Rincon for working quickly Diane Miller and tirelessly to produce a publication that Josie Milliken is also a stunningly beautiful work of art. Angela Moreno Origin of the Cockatrice image: One Sunday Monique Rodriguez my daughters and I were spending time with Steven Salmoni my in-laws and my oldest daughter suggest- Mano Sotelo Jennifer Wiley ed that we draw. My father-in-law pulled out Maggie Golston nice paper and a huge box of colored pencils and we all sat around the table and drew. My oldest daughter loves dragons so I decided to PUBLICATION draw a cockatrice (basilisk) for her. A cockatrice is a mythical creature with the head of a rooster Be in the 2021-2022 Cababi Magazine and the body of a dragon. Supposedly a cocka- Look for Fall 2021 submission updates, Cababi opportunities, and more art and trice hatches from an egg laid by a rooster and writing. hatched by a toad or snake. I used our rooster, Cupcake, a Barred Rock mix, as a model. My Visit https://www.pima.edu/cababi For official 2021-2022 submission daughter loved the picture and it is now framed information, contact us at: and hanging in her bedroom. [email protected] We are on social media! Cockatrice (Colored pencil) Please, like, follow, and share. Jennifer Wiley CELEBRATING THE MANY TALENTS OF THE FACULTY AND STAFF OF https://www.facebook.com/cababimag PIMA COMMUNITY COLLEGE https://twitter.com/cababimag?s=20 Linda Zello 4, 7 Mana Kariman 3 Mano Sotelo 41 Matthew Medeiros 62 Maureen Burns 20 - 21 Melissa Bouey 40 Michele Rorabaugh 5, 61, 64 - 65 Mickey Haist 37 Mike Rom 25 Missy Blair 11 Monique Rodriguez 30 Nina Nardolillo 2, 5, 26, 28 - 29, 59 Robert Matte 14 - 15, 23, 34 Sandra Shattuck 13 The Flower and its Thorn (Photography) Sarah Jansen 19, 47 Nina Nardolillo Sherrie Lynn Stewart 24 - 33 Susan Johnson 12, 13, 31, 36, 50 Teresa Dodge 10, 32 - 33 Artists’ Bios 66 - 71 Veronica Willis 45, 52 - 53 Alexis Kopkowski 12 William Everist 8 - 11 Amanda McPherson 27, 35 Angela Garcia 48 Anthony Mark Dalessandro 36 - 40 A. Z. Martinez 45, 49 Carolyn McKee 38, 44 Cathy Thwing 42, 46 Danny Lawlor 16 - 17, 18, 44, 55 Desert Ehrhart 20, 21, 49 Emily Jacobson 6 - 7, 22, 23 Eric Aldrich 16 - 18 Ernesto Trujillo 39 Fabiola Munoz 65 Frankie Rollins 50 - 54 Fred Duren 6 Jennifer Wiley Cover, 0 Keith Bletzer 64 Kris Swank 43, 46, 60 Lacy Arnett Mayberry 58 - 63 CONTENTS Laura Milkins 56 - 57 Lake Pleasant Regional Park, Arizona (Pastel Painting) Laura Rincon 47 Mana Kariman 2 Cababi Art and Literary Magazine Cababi Art and Literary Magazine 3 GOD GIVES KISSES Sunset through the Old Fence (Digital Photography) By Linda Zello Michele Rorabaugh I saw God In my dreams Last night. He was a good-looking man in khaki pants and a polo shirt. He kissed me Briefly on the lips. I sat down in the shock and wonder of it. “God loves you,” My mother said. Visual Symphony (Digital Photography) I had to believe her. Nina Nardolillo 4 Cababi Art and Literary Magazine Andre Moura (From Pexels) Cababi Art and Literary Magazine 5 THE DIVOC SPIRAL By Fred Duren Down, down, beneath the ground Stop and squirm beneath the town Of license and decadence of all things unnatural Don’t be shocked by what you see “TWEEDLE-DEE” Its only beings never meant to be Or do WHO ARE WE? Or say anything of significance By Linda Zello Toiling in the soil for unknown reasons For my son: Further down—sliding and skimming without brake or direction “Mommy,” says my four year-old son, How far till the down becomes up? “the birds only know part of a song: How will I know when I’ve reached the new land? tweedle-dee, tweedle-dee” Spinning and twirling, I rise up as if resurrected— Our song, like the birds’ has no triumphant chorus, To see the new land no sweet closing refrain. covered with white sand “Tweedle-dee, tweedle-dee and a blessed ocean Who are we? calm and deep Who are we?” Will I now find peace? And yet, how beautiful, how serene to lie amid the early morning Or will the snap and crack Moon in the Trees (Watercolor with Ink) In shades of grey Show itself to be a newer subtler trap Emily Jacobson And listen to harmony of the birds of inhuman complacency? singing “tweedle-dee, tweedle-dee”! 6 Cababi Art and Literary Magazine Cababi Art and Literary Magazine 7 Dapo Abideen (From Pexels) chill in the air prompted her to grab her elbows and pull her arms PERCHANCE closer to her slim well-conditioned body as she continued walk- ing down the path through a wooded area of rural Chicago. Approaching a small pond, she was suddenly startled by TO DREAM a haggard old man in an overcoat who came running from the woods yelling, “My horse! My horse! Oh my God, what’s hap- By William Everist - Fiction pened to my horse?” Frantically looking from side to side in search of the poor animal, he suddenly stopped and came running towards her re- Sitting amongst a group of students in a one-hundred-seat peating his plea, “My horse! My horse! Have you seen my horse? lecture hall auditorium, Amanda’s eyelids began to feel like the Oh my God, she must have drowned!” lead weights she would diligently use in her workout routines Fear enhanced the chill in her body as the old man reached to assure her the body of a distance runner common to the ad- out to grab her and an adrenaline rush revitalized her body, trig- vertisements in her fitness magazines. Her marathon struggle gering her run through the surrounding brush, bushes, and trees to stay awake was starting to wind down, however, as her con- in an effort to escape. At length, satisfied that she had outrun scious awareness began to fade like daylight being swept away by him, she gradually surrendered to the growing pain in her legs the sunset. For the past few nights, she had studied late, picking that implored her to stop. Slowing to a jog, she became aware facts from volumes of knowledge she’d retrieved from the library, that her gasps for air were a painful match to her rapid heartbeat. without a chance to sleep-in during the day. Consequently, she Yet between these pants of agony, she thought she heard the dis- often found herself subject to an unexpected nap attack by mid- tant voice of her statistics professor gradually getting louder in afternoon. the background of her mind. Doctor Irwin J. Hawkins, an internationally prominent ex- “All right, let’s review that dilemma I selected from your pert of global economics and visiting statistics instructor at the text in our previous class meeting,” he proposed. university, had just entered the room and stood piously at the edge Amanda slowly raised her head from the lapboard desktop of a raised platform in front of the class. As he glanced around the and glanced through the blonde bangs gracing her forehead. Her room like a predator seeking out his prey from the students who instructor was holding his glasses firmly to his eyes while read- were still awkwardly entering the room and finding the way to ing from a textbook in his other hand, periodically stopping to their seats, he adjusted his glasses and walked to the podium to write notes on the whiteboard behind him. begin his lecture. Amidst the ambience, unable to resist her lack of “A farmer estimated that his corn harvest yield was about sleep any longer, Amanda became overcome with a shift of con- 150 bushels per designated plot of land. However, after an un- sciousness and was now walking casually down an overgrown fortunate accident forced him to consider the replacement of his dirt path totally within the confines of her own dream state. A (continued, next page) 8 Cababi Art and Literary Magazine Cababi Art and Literary Magazine 9 horse with a tractor, much to his surprise, on if we are to assume that the yield per plot is complex assessment of fourteen randomly selected plots of equal size, normally distributed, with a standard devia- the dilemma at hand, it the average yield was 158 bushels.” tion of 15 bushels, using a probability p-value would appear that there Finishing his last notation, he returned to significance level of .05, can we assume that the are some additional un- the podium. farmer is better off without the horse?” known concerns very “This would, of course, lead one to be- Setting the textbook on the podium, he similar to the ones one lieve that there may be an advantage to this paused for a moment to scan the classroom in might consider in the new technology,” he continued. “However, search of a respondent until he ultimately rested purchase of an auto- his gaze upon Amanda. mobile. One might ask, “Amanda Summers. Miss Amanda Sum- for example, if this is mers—can we make this assumption?” a new or used vehicle? A rush of adrenaline jolted Amanda to a Also, what is the record- full awareness alert.