deziree vol. 1 · would that such love could be said ... succored, softly sworn swears so...
TRANSCRIPT
DEZIREE vol. 1
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Deziree Vol. 1 Produced by The Deziree Collective:
Shaun Jex Kara Jex
Janelle Jex
Guest Artists: Kyle Jung
Kamron Capps Jacqueline Colt Marchioni
Denise Cuppett
Legalese: All work contained in Deziree Vol. 1 is copyright of the original artists as attributed in the following
pages
Cover photo: Leap - Shaun Jex
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Table of Contents
Penguin Adventures - Denise Cuppett- Pg 4
Porcelina of the Vast Oceans - Shaun Jex - Pg 5
Flamenco Dancer - Janelle Jex - Pg 6
The Gondolier - Shaun Jex - Pg 7
It Never Rains All the Time - Pg. 8
I Heard A Rhythm - Kamron Capps - Pg. 9
Face - Kara Jex - Pg. 10
If I Could Speak as a Violin - Kamron Capps - Pg. 11
Temple - Kyle Jung - Pg. 13
Folding Paper Cranes - Shaun Jex - Pg. 14
Angkor - Kyle Jung - Pg. 15
Haiku - Shaun Jex - Pg. 16
Clark’s Nutcracker - Kara Jex - Pg. 17
Haiku - Shaun Jex - Pg. 18
Femme Fawn - Jacqueline Colt Marcioni - Pg. 19
Contact Info - Pg. 20
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Porcelina of the Vast Oceans By Shaun Jex
Porcelina stood on the shore, her bare feet covered in sea foam. A soft breeze rolled across the ocean, carrying a whisper over
the waves. "It's time to come home." The voice said.
"But I'm not ready." Porcelina said, "There's still so much to see."
From behind the dunes she heard her friends calling. They were laughing as they said her name. For a brief moment she hoped
they would crest the hill and pull her away, returning her to the warmth of her adopted family.
"It's time to come home." The voice whispered again. "Just one day more." Porcelina pled.
The wind grew stronger, blowing hair across her face. The voice came again, repeating its demand. She knew the answer would not
change. With a sigh she turned and saw the first of her friends crest the dunes. She raised a hand in silent farewell before stepping into
the water and walking away.
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The Gondolier By Shaun Jex
Every night is the same.
The sun descends below the horizon, leaving the sky a desolate black. From within the village, the cries of the frightened form a chorus that pleads for
light. They are waiting for the gondolier. He is not as swift as he was in his youth. Age has weakened his body, but he knows his duty. He whistles to himself as his boat glides across the surface
of the water. He travels by instinct, and instinct tells him when and where to stop.
A burlap bag lies at his feet. When the gondolier has finished rowing, he will reach into the sack and remove the small, radiant orbs within. He will
reach his hands above his head, as though presenting an offering to the night. One by one, he will place the glowing orbs in the sky, their light tearing holes in the blanket of darkness. The cries of the fearful will fade away. When morning comes he will row across the water, collecting the orbs
again. Then he will wait for the darkness and the cries to return. Every night is the same.
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I Heard a Rhythm - Kamron Capps
I saw a splash in the ocean
Waves wove stories, here and again
Tales of existential freedom
Words born of pure, simple life
Sands swayed and were sworn
To secrecy
Our lord Sol hovered overhead
Until his slumber called for darkness
And his mistress, Luna, was woken
Again
Their ever-parrying embrace
Never coming one to another's face
Yet, still blindly relying on the other
Would that such love could be said
Of the bags of dirt that we are
I heard a rhythm, once
And I thought it music
I heard a rhythm, again
And found it Earth
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If I Could Speak as a Violin - Kamron Capps
I listen to strings I think of many things
My heart beats to the street of a random strummer And my guitar bends to the heat of a different drummer
Yet it weeps, little The sun has come and gone
It will come again I pray for its shine in winter, for winter is coming
All the while, I am swathed Succored, softly
Sworn swears so succinctly, swiftly, solemnly sung In the sweet sense of surety
All without the break of breath, but my own I were sworn these promises of peace in my infancy
I were quieted by these vows In his arms, I were held
And to the beat of the heart beneath his chest I slept, ne'er wept
In a great, big chair, he cradled me He protected me, loved me, kept me safe from the vastness of infant
woes No tears did I cry, with him No screams shuttled forth
And by his love, his watch, his hand Have I yet to shuffle the mortal coil
Even as had happened, in the years to come Where I were a rebel, at best, ungrateful at worst
There he remained My father
And if I could speak as a violin I would so string stories such as should bring the hardest men
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To their knees And the strongest women to weeping
Yet, all the while, I desire nothing more Than to express to my friend
My twin My father, on this Earth
How so much larger he is than the sun and moon To me
How so much grander he is than the four winds To me
How so much more he means to me Than all the tales
Than all the stories Than all the songs
Than all the paintings, ever How so much better he is
Than what he thinks of himself Without him, I would not know what love is and should be Without him, I would not know what love should be, and is Without him, I would not now know the laughter I have Without him, I would not now know the efficacy of tears
You, father, are more to me than I can equivocate I pray that you know this
And never, ever forget Or forget to relate
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Folding Paper Cranes By Shaun Jex
Each morning, the master wakes us before dawn. We are given a bowl of cold gruel to eat before being herded into the Great
Hall. That is when our work begins. All day long we sit folding paper cranes. Our fingers move with the precision and control of a surgeon. We bend and crease the
paper, giving it shape and form. Most of us have been here as long as we can remember. It is
tradition to send your first child to study at the Temple, though not all have the gift. Those who do not will be sent away in
shame. As we work, the Master examines our creations. When he
disapproves of the work he delivers a quick slap to the hands with his cane. His disappointment is worse than the pain.
Today, he stands behind me and watches as I put the finishing touches on my crane. I hold it up and, to my relief, the wings
begin to flap and it flies away.
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Haiku - Shaun Jex i.
Counting her stitches Like beads of the Rosary
She knits a prayer
ii. In the kitchen
Capturing Summer's warmth In a Ball jar
iii.
Patterns in cool sand The red earth's calligraphy
Written by the wind
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Haiku - Shaun Jex i.
After the Wake - Shooting bottle rockets
At the waning moon
ii. Skinned knees -
Scarlet blossoms In bloom
iii.
Darkened stairwell - Leaning in for a kiss
Our teeth bump
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