Index1 Love Denise Hayes

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Art &Photography Literature

stranger than light by Jason Weingart

Something tells me things are not meant to go right.

Instinctively, I perch myself strategically in harms plight.

Blood curling, racing, infuriating my waking moments.

God get me some safe harborA nest where a mother nurtures and a

father protects.God has a plan for me, right...

He bade me to sit on this branchAnd as I wait, the wind

tussles my feathersA case of the shivers

I’ve got it cold, blood in me so boldMy mind is unspeakable full of

words that I live Bless those I come across

But if I must fight to be as the last leaf hanging

Then breath, so I can glide by unshrouded wings.

And a master of never speaking but always being heard

Gave a gift through flight“Perch, yet again... soft

spoken thang.Chirp, to be heard.. your

boisterous noises are cause to sang.

Sing, sing louder, I hear you...

Rising, finally higherWhere the current bends

beneath you”

Fly On RightBy Danielle Brogan

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Jack in the Box by Thomas Filiano

Come on Come on Come on out nowLet’s dance, make music with your soul reverberatin’ off my dreamsBeat on my chest doll, get me jump startedTell you I hate you and your dirty dress.Throw it off.

Throw it all off.Make contact as close as we can,

Feel my heart murmur incantationsto get us groovin’ to the mania.

Tickle my fancy with your featherof precious incongruence.Let’s run now.

Run with me star,Out into the streetsWe’ll bullet through the masses

of fledgling zealots.No leading or following,Just going.Let’s play in traffic.A truck haulin’ smackcouldn’t stop us now,I’ll piggy-back you pastthe whining gruntsand superfluous drunks.We’re on our way to find God.It might be in this public park.Lay on the lawn with me

Let’s connect and bring on the rapture.

“Searching for ‘IT’ on a Tuesday Night”By Zachery A. Cate

Untitled by KathyArndt

Untitled by KathyArndt Grasp by Shawna Corcoran

You sat there with your thumb out as the cars flew byHoping to catch a ride

Staring down the endless highwayWatching the road as it winded out of site then looped around againThere you stood for hoursDays went by as you walked the lonely roadsideWhy did I come here? You asked yourselfOnly the answer was already apparentStill you stood thereThe cars just kept flying byThey seemed to have no destinationDay after dayNight after nightNo one stoppedYou sat on the side of the roadThe sky always hazy the air crisp and coolThe only thing there to annoy you was the questionThe one that ran through your mind repeatedlyWhy did I come here?I knew the answerYou wanted to be a hitchhiker in my mindNow how do you get home?

The Hitch-hikerPoem and Art by Steven Pruitt

Wait here for the nothing roomO’ child of the crescent moon

Wait here for the nothing roomThat’s falling from the sky

‘Tis an ever-changing roomA sparkling flower in ever-bloom

That morphs and twists and blends togetherRight before the eye

Do you see the nothing room?Hold on child, it’s coming soon

Squint your eyes and look aheadBut surely you must try

The nothing room is here at last!A glorious relic of the pastFeel the overwhelming joy

Surely you could cry?

So walk right in the giant doorSit down on the cold blank floor

And let your thoughts rise upLike a bird into the sky

But do not fear the nothing roomKeep your thoughts in perfect tune

For if you fear the nothing roomThen surely you will die

I bid farewell to the nothing roomAnd you o’ child of the moon

For the time has come for you to goAnd so I say “goodbye!”

Go on young one, think and growLet thoughts arise and spirit flowAs you and the room rise together

And soar into the sky!

The Nothing RoomBy Jimmy Everett

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UntitledAbove from -The Distortions SeriesBelow from - The Shadows SeriesBy Cassie Brown

(left) cLEO (RIGHT) FIRE IN THE SKY by Jason Weingart

Sometimes I think of you as a Super Mech protecting the Neo-Tokyo of my mind from demons from outer space perhaps an antacid coating the walls of my stomach in a thick mercurial membrane slowly drifting down extinguishing all acidic anguish

When I see someone at the market with clear plastic tubes leading to the oxygen tank cradled in their shopping cart, I think of youthe Dentist Office offering IV Sedation reminds me of youand when this crazy future-shock world takes me in its armsand drives me slowly out of my mind you become the unfolding origami of my airbag as I crash into the frozen lake

PrismismBy Zachariah Lavigne

tHE FEARby Jason Weingart

We were so beautiful

We were too perfect thoughUnraveling so slowlyThis is killing me, all that we should beAnd when I wake my soul will take you here with me tonightAnd when I dream a dream so sweet I’ll hear your lullaby

It will calm me down though your not aroundNo words, no sound, just my slow rebound

When I close my eyesI can feel you inside of meAnd when I hear our songI cry but sing along You were everything, but so wrongAnd when I wake my soul with take you here with me tonight

And when I dream a dream so sweet I’ll hear your lullabyIt will calm me down though your not around

No words, no sound, just my slow reboundDay in day out, its all around

I see your eyes and all my liesNo fault at hand, you’re a better man

Than I had planned

Sweet DreamsBy Bobbie Jo Stuff

untitled by Quenby Sheree

Untitled by Lavinge

Untitled by Adam Lavinge

It came as a call, a phone ringing quietly in my uncle’s pocket then it pressed suddenly against his ear. The voice on the other side calm and collective and somber. Always so understanding. Right after he had folded his phone, it disappearing in his pocket, the bustling house changed. Dull rings of voices took on a heavy atmosphere, brick words chalking up dust choking into a rush of thoughts and wants. My mom mostly tears told me the time was close. It didn’t come as a shock, more like a calm nudge, truth walking stiffly through the cramped room. I will get the ladies I had told her, my sister already in tears, my younger cousin on the verge of understanding. And like a swift wind the adults left, a gale at their backs swinging them from the door to the road, fleeing for the last glimpses of life.

Last Time to Hear of My GrandmotherBy Preston Johnston

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Brooklyn by Steve Goa

Insist your weight lay between my shouldersA sharpened pain to make me colderSo that I can close my heartOne pierce of love to make me fall apartTo make me lose myself againSo much fragilityLosing souls to unbelievable possibilitiesTake the weight that you’ve betrayed me withAnd lift me up, even if its only for seconds of relief Give me dreams that make me rememberEven if I wake in sudden disbeliefMake this pain seem like it was worth itMake me able to see that I will come to terms withAll the loss that plagues my heartRendering me numb, useless and set apart From those who need me, from those I need

GravityBy Erin Duke

Space Frog by Quenby Sheree

it dwells in the deepest cavitiesof your soul

in the fury I know you see the fire

its the disillusioned dreamsconserving what little memory you hold

insidelost

wanderingnomadic

you’re never at peaceyou’ll never complete

your tasks you set your heartto take on

in the coldfreezing

alonewishing for someone to hold you

but you’re too strongto grab onto an outstretched hand

too strong to accept the helpof one who cares

dream dream away

to the chariots of firethat burn you as they leave you

sleep into the solitude of your dreamsfeel the screams

the nights of endless feetrunning on the burning path

with the ghost of your mistakesyou can’t get awayrun all you want

you can’t get away

ConfusionBy Erin Duke

422 by Jessie

417 by Jessie

Floating Tree by Jessie

It is true, I know a secret that the world should know,Hidden in pages and behind weathered spines. Indeed, I take it wherever I go, It is a secret that I cannot confine.It is a place that is full of friends and, also, of foesBut it is a friend in and of itself. Sometimes lovely, sometimes tragic; Full of spies, pirates, and magic.An array of words strung together and kept on a shelf.

It is true, the words on the page may be a spun tale,But reality and truth can be so overvalued! And daydreaming is entailed To be human. And readers do exudeThe beautiful ability to find truth in fiction’s details.For truth can be found in the falsest of places. The beauty is, you must find it alone. But friends are condonedTo help you find meaning and to follow truth’s traces.

It is true, when the world began, God made words,And he meant for us to read and write them;-- To spin, not blunder! To grasp, not to misapprehend!They were meant to be spoken, written, and heard.Because, to read is to learn from others’ miscues, The written word is my escape From life’s jests and japes,And to see the world from different views.

WORDSBy Alyssa Merwin

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Untitled By Jesse

Untitled by Johnson

Every day I work, I work hard in the fields,I plant seeds of intellect and harvest the villanelles.I grow sonnets and limericks, and often grow ballads and I sowThe seeds carefully and watch them as they grow.

Every day I feed my mind with food, it is fiction that is preferred,

My Work By Alyssa Merwin

My mind is always thirsty, always craving the words.And I feed it also with learning but experience is best,But there is nothing it likes more than to sit back and to rest.

And when I am asleep I always tend to dream,Where I plant seeds in the ground, they smile in the sun’s beams,That is where I harvest the monodies and palindromes,When I’m asleep and dreaming is when my best work gets done.

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The day the leaves turned is the day I met you. There was a storm coming that day, and I was waiting for it. The

storms brought the rain, and the rain brought life to our little farm. And lately, lately there hadn’t been much life in our tiny corner of the world, so I’d been sure that we needed it.

I had gone for a walk that day, trying to make it to the creek that sat in the forest and back again before the storm unleashed it’s fury. I’d made it about halfway through my journey--all the way to that large oak tree--before frigid drops had begun to fall from the sky, soaking through my red jacket.

I’d all but shrieked as I’d darted into the safety of the canopy in front of me, hiding under the large oak and it’s turned leaves.

My papa had always told me that the leaves turn when it was going to rain, getting ready for the downpour, hoping to catch some droplets in their clutches...but at that moment it hadn’t mattered to me what the leaves were doing, or why they were doing it. Because at that moment I’d looked up from the ground and gasped…

...At that moment I’d seen you. You’d been standing there, not ten feet from me, watching me as the

rain cascaded down your back, soaking you to the bone. You hadn’t moved--hadn’t even flinched--when lightening had flashed through the sky, lightening that had scared me down to my very core.

No, you’d simply cocked your head at me as I’d shivered under my canopy of tree, as if I was the most interesting creature in the world.

My voice had been small when I’d called out to you, sounding broken.

“Aren’t you getting wet out there?” I’d asked, though it had been completely obvious that you were. “Don’t you want to come over here, out of the rain?”

You’d stared at me as I’d said the words, as if they hadn’t made sense to you, as if they’d been in some other language. But you’d walked over to me anyway, ignoring the rain and lightening yet again, a strange smile on your perfect face.

Once you’d been under the canopy of leaves with me, I’d turned toward you, staring now. Something about the way you’d looked at me, sitting there like a statue, had made me feel connected to you, as if I’d known you all my life. The way your brown eyes had bored into mine

The Day The Leaves TurnedBy: Alexandra Lancaster

had been deafening, and yet…You’d cocked your head at me, opening your mouth to say

something. ...and yet, I hadn’t minded the strange way you’d stared. I’d spoken before you could, my eyes widening. “Where are you

from?” I’d asked, still staring into your brown eyes. You’d looked away from me then, your red hair blowing in the wind,

and I’d decided to ask you a different question, figuring that the one I’d asked was too personal.

“Have you been here a long time?” my second question had been quieter, softer as I’d secretly prayed that you would turn your head back towards me, so I could look into your eyes again.

My prayer had been answered a moment later as you’d turned back towards me and nodded, droplets of rain falling from your hair into your face.

“Oh. I see…” I hadn’t really known what else to say, so we’d simply sat there for a moment, both of us staring…

Me, staring at your eyes; you, staring at my face. It was in that silence that I’d recognized something--the difference

between us. Me, I’d been the sad Country girl who talked too much, did less than

she should, and always let her mind wander into a dreamlike state. You, you’d been stoic and silent, intelligent as the most learned college professor--that I had been able to tell from your eyes.

We’d been so different, you and I, stretched beyond time and place, separated by class and rank, and yet...and yet, at the same time, we’d still been so much alike.

We’d each had things we thought, things we wanted. We’d each had our own dreams, our own desires. We’d each had our own struggles in life…

When it came right down to it, I had believed, staring into your strange eyes, that we were more alike than we were different. I still believe it, even now, even years after that fateful day when the leaves turned--that fateful day when my perception of the world and it’s people had changed forever…

You’d vanished after the rain was gone. I’d looked away for only one moment, overwhelmed by your intense eyes, and when I’d looked back you’d already vanished. I’d looked for you, shouted, but you’d never answered…

You still haven’t. But that’s alright, because the thing I now believe about chance

encounters is that they aren’t really chance at all. And that belief gives me hope--hope that we’ll meet again someday.

Concept Massacre By VATICAccompaniment: “Some Spooky Shit” by J Dilla

Kill the bullshit Bullets are the devils tool Design to tear souls from flesh Worldly weapons could never execute Oppression or poverty only shif t it to another group Another coup To stack that loot Pass the pain Aim and shoot Blast the pain Heinous truth And that’s a shame In language plane Murder is murder even when done in God’s name Frauds due claim lunatics half insane Half confused Are we the same With different view Interesting proof For why My senses feel empathy And A friend can be lif ted When, you send them your sympathy We were all born from a singularity Time space is tearing us apart gradually With the help of gravity And the force of depravity Stimulating tragedy

Resolut ion for the Written By VATICPrint is dead.Buried in booksHidden in library Index of Periodical Literature: Printed Edit ionDiscontinued Reborn on internetDigital Easter Halle lujahHistory is fluidSo easy to ControlAtl, DeleteAnd who’s fault? The cult of progressInvestments render antique technology obsoleteTo cut costBut what’s at stake, has a greater priceThen the paper currency of a sovereign stateknowledge replacedwith axioms of confusiondiluted truthevaporates into distorted memoriesAll facts are static? electronic documentsHo-rahFor the cyber-age, of ignorance

Untitled by Lavigne

Listen to it, Can you hear it?

...Whisper in the wind.

Always wished that, I could be it,

...Whisper in the wind.

Speaks it to me, Always through me,

...Whisper in the wind.

Sometimes shallow, Always a flow,

...Whisper in the wind.

The day will come perhaps, When I will see it pass,

Though I never wish for that day to come.

And even though I want, Nothing but it’s soft cantor,

I know I can ask for nothing more.

Singingly loudly, Always proudly,

...Whisper in the wind.

Flowers blooming, It’s so moving,

...Whispering in the wind.

Travels, lingers, Always speaks words, ...Whisper in the wind.

Leave me, Save me,

...You are my whisper in the wind.

Whisper in the WindBy Alexandra Lancaster

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From the Heavens By Jason Weingart

Ole - Editing StaffAdvisor Elena JarvisEditor/Designer Steven PruittManaging Editor Lary MillerArt Director/Cover Design Denise Hayes

Staff Jason Weingart

Steve GoaAlex Cate

Shawna CorcoranLisa SwearingenAlyssa Merwin