Original Poetry by Modern America Poetry Student

Millikin University
Immersion Section, January, 2001

Randy Brooks || Megan Thomas || Sara Fornoff || Jenny Macatangay Rebecca Galassi || Farrah S. Dozier || Rachel Priebe

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Randy Brooks

ALBA naked in the blue light before dawn, she tiptoes into the kitchen to put our coffee on
	blue night just before dawn asleep in the rocker nightgown open from a feeding young Mom
new things unwrapped beneath the Christmas tree grandpa opens his Bible
	bed time on the sofa between her big brothers the story in their mother's voice good night
snow duck melting its bill fallen to the missing feet

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Megan Thomas

	FREEDOM Trotting down the stairs           of a hallway reminiscent of a hotel. Coats, scarves, hats, and mittens           engulfing our bodies. Laughter fills the hallways           on our journey to a brief smokey freedom. Outside we stand,           sometimes sit. Smoke flows from our burning sticks of freedom           and from our mouths. Freedom.
¡¿NEARBY?! He sits nearby. Is he yearning to be caressed or would he rather be looked at and not touched? He waits for the return everyday. Food and sitting nearby is what he desires. But, oh, to see his furry face and long gray tail!
	The cold still night sees smoke roll off our cigarettes. Three bodies are one on the porch . . . music.
"Blues in F" Dark, smoky bar. Round tables with people scattered around. Some have beer and laughter. Some have beer and silence. "Check, Check, 1, 2." "Check, Check, 1, 2." Cases stacked. Stage lights shine down on the light, red, shiny wood. The metals gleam. "Check, Check, 1, 2." "Check, Check, 1, 2." Bwang, Bwong, Doom. "Whoa, tune that, man!" "We got a few. Get a drink." "Check, Check, 1, 2." "Check, Check, 1, 2." One silhouette, to my left, guzzling a beer. The other engulfed in smoke, last minute tuning while exhaling. Cold glass . . . sip. "Alright, how's about a Blues in F?"
	Dad's voice on the phone Smiling daughter leaning on her books
Sisters in boots Water flowing through a green forest

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Sara Fornoff

Dark misted Tugging claws no Sunlight filters in Because there is no sun, Behind grey clouds An empty gray sky Little girl in Shredded lace and Sunday shoes Struggles through grasping Undergrowth--mud sucking White patent leather Murky clearing Shrunken house Black-stained Bare boards Tiny arms Heft open broken Heavy door All within is bare Bleak dusty leaf- Strewn cobwebs She sits down in The middle of The floor And waits.
	Sunlight gleams on Easter Sunday whites, on gold hair, and brown. A small uncertain boy clutches his smaller sister protectively.
These things that we think only happen in slums of Mexico or Pakistan the slums of someplace not here - they happen here. The police may not rape a girl - instead her father does or Mommy locks her eight-year-old in in the bathroom with a bucket of ammonium chloride - an experience he survives by dunking a dirty washrag in the toilet and holding it over his mouth and nose to filter out the fumes. We make sad eyes at the poor children in Brazil whose plight is not all that different from many of our own - and perhaps even sponsor one of those children - but we turn our ears and our hearts from the screams next door  or the shadows sillhouetted on the blinds that tell us something's wrong because "It's none of our business" what they do outside the office we're not responsible they're not our kids - or wives - MrJonesisanupstandingcitizenandwouldneverdothingslikethat we're not responsible - can't really do anything I don't have kids... But we are and we can and it doesn't matter...
	A thin blade of grass     reaches for sun-- The slice of a razor-sharp blade
I've seen your picture     in the magazines. So sophisticated, even sultry--     it's hard to use the word     "sexy", though it's true. I remember your innocence--     watching your face from the     kitchen window     in the sandbox with     your brother. Did you know     he's in college now? I remember you face     terrified and joyful     at the same time when     you played on the tire     swing, twisting it as     as high as you could before     letting go. I remember you hair,     in a ponytail or     barrettes, instead of     tousled over your     eyes like that. When     it was tousled, your eyes     were sleepy-innocent,     instead of so...come-hither. I remember those eyes--     I remember then reminding me     of uncut summer grass     or new leaves in spring--     not the worldliness of emeralds. I haven't seen so...     so much (I guess) of you     since you were - less than     twelve, for sure.     It's hard     to think that     so many people are     seeing that...seeing you... I remember your awkwardness     as a teenager.     You look so confident now.     I wonder about the     woman you've become.     I wonder about that     confidence - whether it's real     of a camera-lens act. Your daddy says he     loves you, and he     misses you. He     can't quite believe     the pictures, either. I'm not sure quite     where to end this. It     feels like there's lifetimes     still to say and yet - will     you even get this? Will     you read it if you do? You know, I take another look     at this picture - those     child-woman eyes--     you're still there. I     want to make sure I say     you're absolutely     beautiful.     But then, you     always have been--     I have the pictures     to prove that. I love you.     (What can a mother say?     At least she hasn't posed     for Playboy         yet.)
	Small blue-white      hands tremble A ruler snaps.

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Jenny Macatangay

	The lingering light creeping over           his pale damp skin; moon's reflection o'er glistening snow
LEAKY PIPES Creaking rot planks Tapping drops Rhythm of the concrete floor       leaky pipes
	Feeling Your lips touch mine Like waves kissing the shore. Spoiled with this sense, another I crave... Then more.
aching, pulling,      choking. tight, breathless,      painful . . .      still . . .     hopeful?
	your warmth embraces me caressing and soothing my inner soul; setting me free . . . to be
how it WAS? AMAZING heights . . .      full of laughter and love DAYS . . .      not long enough for us Every minute a special one, ALWAYS longing for just another one. THEN . . . SHE moved into your life how SHE was . . . PLUTONIC, was your plight how it was? ENDLESS nights . . .      full of heartache and tears DAYS . . .      too lonely for one to bear ALWAYS longing for just ONE minute. Just ONE minute LESS with her.

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Rachel Priebe

GOOD (DAYS) BYE I. (like childhood) Six semi-silken thighs covered and uncovered     free. Love-looming-life upon a fresh new day.      Our bodies cast in jubilant after-dreams. II. (letter) New-born ivory snow stamped "I love you & good bye" Deftly printed with jet black army boots.      Tear-streaking puffs of smoke breaking holes through the snow. III. (visitation) Five bright night-days strung like precious pearls through three musicians. Naked musician in the soft breeze giving;      The promise of tomorrow. IV. (good-bye) Holding promises tight at the Airport-gate. Three women quilted tightly     My tears then hers--flowing upon you,      A frozen statuette.
	Silence House Hello there, One so like me- quiet, quiet girl with dark hair and eyes. Sitting in the silence house      darkened colors of years edged up like streaking       blades. I saw your arm- hungry girl. I saw the black-blue brown~brown hues covering your skin. When did it begin? Sitting in the silence house      darkened colors of years strung loose by cutting      blades. Have you ever learned the blues, crying girl, who only cries inside? Have you learned the cold-slack jack-whack and bop to the chest? They shut it up- Shut up the song and sound, and replaced it with passive coo's from a dead man's idol house with no room to speak or grow. Your hands flutter. Your words mutter, but I bear witness to that skin and the deep dimpled soul it's in. We are a nation genius girl. A high strung abrasive slash-armed army. Arms held out uniting, Unbound by the Growth     of      Sound. . . Ranger Girl, I know how to unlock the door. I have the keys to the window- hop--hop on up. I'll teach you new words with ways to love Our soft-skinned selves. I have found the tunnel through the silence house. Raise up soft hands! Reach up for breath. Rise up little selves! Reach past breath. Rise up Big! Silence is death.
Navajo Song Little bird-- I have a nest for you. It sits silently upon a hill.      (the quiet tugs upon the Fir        lifting fear like fire-smoke.) The ocean watches up carefully.      (I search oceans for you--       I hold your dreams through       the darkness of caverns--       I break shells and slash my eyes       searching inward,       I am now searching the first world       little bird.) I have found a home for you, O little bird-- The darkness-forest longs to cradle your fuzzy-plump softness.      (I dance the skies for you praying       to unseen stars--       The Man of Green--       The Three Stages of Woman--       Red Stag in spring       I pierce the Navajo Sky calling--       Somewhere drums and a flute are playing.) I have a life for you O, little, little bird-- Wings are for spreading Wings lift, little bird--      (You are from a tribe       of thumbless patriot-wolves---       little bird--       They search the new place for you       and cover you in white smoke--       I run through cavities-darkened       Oh how I feel you tremble--       I will leave the light on       just in case-- --       I prey on desert thickets       I prick plumes cautiously       creating colors for your sky       I have a life for you little bird.) Spread your wings O, Little bird.      (I look for the boomerang-shake-quivering       through the smoke       a return       but I did not ask until you fluttered.) Spread your wings little bird Reach to the sky O little bird-- The fetters-- O little, little bird.
	Visions from Martha Carrier: (an evening gathering) WORDS flying swift -MASKED-FACES- many worlds represented-- You like Cocoa. Me like Butter. Youths-- -ARROGANT- lighting encasing Faces masking these, our words and worlds. I am in here because she asked me-- (Some of the men speak kindly Some of the men look tired upon the facticity of hairs within the crevice of my under-arm. Nevermind what I know-- Never mind the solemn-secret truths I hold.) You, like Cocoa approach me-- I, like Butter am expected to melt at these, your -WORDS- take a fast-flying dance full of reason-flowers through out this room. ( I speak like Sheath-Metal upon Butter You speak like Cocoa in a Kahlua drink-- Soft and Smooth yet clothed in iron-malice and resentment [Providence] yet these are the jewels of knowledge I hold.) You, like Cocoa are rounding up the figures and facts apologetically I, like Butter understand alchemy. (I listen like Butter upon Wax You Speak like Cocoa upon soiled-cakes The Bald Man laughs as convictor He has the power to convict me or kill her--LOVE-- the soft swish of women like Cocoa-Butter a dead woman's sentence-- These-- ripe-pieces are the fruit, the knowledge I hold.) We finish and then you kiss him -ONCE- He, the one who loved me desparately then-- No doubt you two cradle my conviction.
Father immersed in Mr. Bubbles before work Two small girls singing serenade beyond the door
	Gray sky-- wrapping willow's lilting and swollen womb . . . Champion girl rings words from the sky.

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Rebecca Galassi

	SNOW glistening tear drops floating from the skies landing so softly onto the cold barren Earth covering the dark night with a white sparkling blanket smooth, soft, velvet blanket that burns the bare skin ever so beautiful snow
FLAME Warm new light,      calming Constant colors,      burning. Colors of the autumn leaves,      flickering Orange, yellow, blue star,      swaying Lonely wick      smoking.
	Desires I want holding, I want comforting. I want loving, I want memories most of all. I want to feel your breath   on my neck. I want to feel your warmth   of your peck. All I want to know is,   Why can't you see? All I want to be is,    with You.
Toes Long, slender digits    beautiful when bare. Almost feminine    except for the small patches of hair. Somehow always smooth    and always filling every shoe you wear.
	You poor thing The walls are closing in      on you! From every direction      they will collapse Will you be strong enough      to bear it all? Please don't stay      so distant I am here for you!
Rag doll      Girl tossed about           By the two different extremes She cannot avoid it    for in the middle there is only a pit    of blackness

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Farrah Dozier

	KEEP YOUR HEAD UP Yo black man      Yo black woman           Don't look down                Keep Your Head Up. Stand proud      Be cool!           Don't be a fool.                Going to school                     Is cool! Keep Your Head Up.      Stand tall.           Get an education.                Then there's graduation. Believe in yourself      Keep on keeping on. Keep Your Head Up.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN? What do you mean when you say you love me? Do you really mean it or is it a phase? You know love is a powerful word these days. Love will sometimes break your heart,      but not from the start. You must love each other and get along.      Then there is a wedding song. First you feel love to be loved. The next time you say you love me,      Mean it because you may DIE.
	"Without You" You are the one I think of everyday.    The one that I love and care about. You are the sun and the moon in everyway.    The one that makes me shout. I could not live if I didn't have you in my life.     You must admit that you love me too because time is running out. Without You Life Is Short!
"The Fiance" It is so hard to describe the way I feel about you. When I am around you I feel so alive.   When you were gone I felt so empty inside.        My heart yearns for your love. When you left me, I thought I was going to die.        I even thought about commiting suicide.               I had no reason to live. But now you are back into my life forever. So now you say you will never leave me as I say the same.        If it doesn't last, who will be to blame. I have trust in both of us that we will last forever.
	Love is Mysterious Love is mysterious. Sometimes you treat me bad. But I could never hate you. I love you so much, it hurts      me so: Love is mysterious When you are mean to me. I feel that I want to say I love you. Love is mysterious. When we fight, I want to just hug and kiss you and say "Everything will be alright." Love is Mysterious.
Death Death is a powerful word. D is for departed from the Earth from birth until you depart From the Earth and die. E is for extinct, gone from life itself, you will now take your last breath. A is for amen the end of one person's life despite how they lived it. Let their life be, you see they could have lived a good or bad life, but now it's all over. T is for time, time so see Heaven or Hell. It's time to go home and live forever. This is the end of time. H is for Heaven, Heaven is where I am going. I am ready to die. So why am I still here in this crazy world called Earth.