1 Nighttime, and my back is hunched under the weight of Contemporary American Poetry, Sin and Syntax, The Sound on the Page, and Introducción de la Lingüsitica Española. Thoughts fire, bounce, break, and refract off the walls of my brain, trying to make sense of the markings engraved in my planner, yelling, “Me first! Pick me! Me, me!” Behind me, a girl laughing into her phone then stopping, making her voice stern and scolding, “No. No. You can’t do that. I said no.” Then, from a tree branch nearby, a quick pat, pat of wings and the shh, shh of leaves There’s Noise and then There’s Real-Talk Kristina Pepelko Running Out of Ink Winter 2011
Transcript
1
Nighttime, and my back is hunched
under the weight of Contemporary American Poetry, Sin and Syntax, The Sound on the Page,
and Introducción de la Lingüsitica Española. Thoughts fire, bounce, break, and refract
off the walls of my brain,
trying to make sense of the markings
engraved in my planner, yelling,
“Me first! Pick me! Me, me!”
Behind me, a girl laughing into her phone then stopping,
making her voice stern
and scolding, “No. No. You can’t do that. I said no.”
Then, from a tree branch nearby,
a quick pat, pat of wings and the shh, shh of leaves
There’s Noise and then There’s Real-TalkKristina Pepelko
Running Out of InkWinter 2011
A Writers’ Club PublicationGrand Valley State University
Allendale, MI
Layout and design by Ellen Lundgren, Hannah Moeggenborg & Drake Parker
Some Words that Wrote Themselves|Drake Parker..........46
5
And the frog did croak so sweetlythat her heart began to race.
It pounded part for her caring but also her frustration,bitter sweet her heart was tearing, his croaks had no realization.
Then knowing that where words do fail an action can take place;the girl rose up and placed her lips upon her dear frog’s face.
Deep was her fear, terror, and frightwhen her dear frog turned to man.In a hot blinding flash of light he stood, no longer in her hand.
He saw scared tears replace her charmsand now could more than croak.With joy he wrapped her in his armsso that her senses re-awoke.
Her tears then fell all the more,with a smile they now shone.For though his form was just now bornhis soul had long been known.
Running Out of Ink
2
Winter 2011
and the weee, eeeet, tweet, tweet of a bird,
crying out into the dark to see if anyone cares
that its sleep was disturbed.
Turning my head toward its call,
my thoughts declare a cease-fire
and I slow my pace from a speed-walk to a stroll
trying not to reach the apartment door so soon.
3
In a deep and thriving forestplayed a girl of life and love,and in its bed of soft moss grassshe lay to stare above.
When from the breeze she heard a sound, a voice stirring and deep,and turning on her side she found a frog to her did leap.
His croak he whispered in her earthis brought her much delight,and when she let him on her laphe croaked with fast firm might.
Never croaked he quite as muchas strongly or as deepas when her hand to him did touch,which made her smile sweet.
Through cracks between her joy-filled laughsthe time did slip away,and presently both fell asleep,wrapped in a bright warm day.
Amour of AnuraJesslynn Lupo
4
Winter 2011
And when at last the girl did wakethe frog was by her side,but when she turned for home to makewithin leaves did he hide.
The next day back again she fledand to her grand reliefthe frog emerged from the creek bedand to her lap did leap.
He croaked and croaked just as beforebut deathly silent he became,as the girl spoke back and told him moreof her life, loves, and name.
Every day, once she awoke the girl came back to him,and every day he croaked she spokethey laid skin against skin
Sadly it was that every daythe girl’s heart broke anew. For though her frog did croak awayshe knew not what words he used.
And then one day just by pure chance,the two lay face to face,
9
Grant me eloquence, Muse – I need it,Quicker than thought, grant me the wordsTo contain and hem in the flickering tide,Full, furious, fast-sweeping.Dam in my rage! Quench fiery nerves Strained past all reason and starting to burst.You impose order upon raw power,Sending each flux to its own proper placeAverting the outflow. Your will aloneRedirects and siphons the chaos, the furyToward meaningful ends. Grant me that power.Now, Muse, with your blessing,I’ll ply my thoughts toward alternate ends.
InvocationDrake Parker
6
Winter 2011
Half naked and a little scared he let her lead him home,and much and long the forest weptwhen she took him from his own.
It was not long before they wed,since each could speak to the other.Yet she stopped him on their wedding bed,one need trumped by another.
“What was it that you croaked,” she asked,“tell me all, tell me true,in the forest where your words were masked?”He smiled, this he was prepared to do.
Then from his breath these words whispered,a voice deep and arousing.“I proclaimed my love for you, to the beat my heart was pounding.
7
Adam lies underneath the birch tree shadow. Asthe saddening sundances across his grave, thedroplets of dew glisten, creatinga personal rainbow. Beside him lies one with no name. Alone,they sleep below an empty rose-bed.
The sobering windoffers the stained birch leaves as remembrance.They are red, dusted with black.
Soon, there is no more dew. Their grass stains brown and they are no longer invisible. He lies beside his love, he lies beside his love.
With neglect from the Almighty sun’s rays, each blade bows, as the silhouetteof their bed finally become one.There is no more birch by the wayside. All that remains is its stump,and the two who will be forgotten.
By the Wayside, Unnatural LoversGeoffrey Murry
8
Dear Masochist,
I envy your pleasure in pain. I long for your want to be plagued by ecstasy as you are forcibly suppressed. I admire how you enjoy being whipped or beaten be-cause you didn’t agree with what someone demanded of you. It must be succulent; to indulge in what many avoid, or long for something that no one who is sane would willing partake. You welcome the unnecessary over-doing of something so simple, abuse; its use, is your form a sinuous gratification. You ache with delight when someone calls you a bitch, whore, or fat; I cry. You pulse with excitement when degraded or sodomized by a groups slur; I weep. You even push away all digni-ty, just to reach an orgasmic realization that at anytime, you can say STOP. If we could just switch places, for one day, you would be in heaven.
Sincerely,An Impugned Minority
Dear MasochistGeoffrey Murry
13
J
ames
wal
ked
dow
n th
e st
ill, a
ngry
stre
et; t
he y
ello
w, g
reed
y ey
es o
f dru
g ad
dict
s sl
ash
crim
inal
s gl
owin
g in
the
nigh
t. H
e fo
llow
ed h
is fe
et, f
ixat
ed o
n th
e sm
oke
of h
is la
st M
aver
ick,
the
icy
air
findi
ng h
oles
in h
is ta
ttere
d C
ar-
hartt
. Th
e dr
y sc
ream
s of
a b
aby
cryi
ng lo
omed
in th
e di
stan
ce.
The
wai
ling
mad
e hi
s he
art a
che.
Rac
hel h
ad p
ut a
n en
d to
his
wou
ld b
e fa
ther
hood
w
eeks
bef
ore.
He
step
ped
on, h
is s
cuffe
d an
d ba
ttere
d, b
row
n Ti
mbe
rland
bo
ots
slos
hing
thro
ugh
the
snow
on
the
unsh
ovel
ed s
idew
alk.
“Yo
u’re
a
lose
r,” s
he h
ad s
aid,
on
her
way
to th
e cl
inic
, “H
ow c
ould
you
fath
er a
chi
ld?”
Ja
mes
had
beg
ged
her
to k
eep
it, c
ryin
g on
his
han
ds a
nd k
nees
nex
t to
her
ragg
edy
whi
te C
ivic
, wan
ting
to b
e a
bette
r m
an, b
ut b
elie
ving
she
was
rig
ht.
Jam
es s
tepp
ed o
n, th
e ba
by’s
crie
s ge
tting
clo
ser.
A fo
reig
ner,
his
feet
wer
e po
undi
ng b
oast
fully
on
host
ile la
nd.
His
scr
uffy
bea
rd a
nd p
unge
nt s
mel
l m
ade
no d
iffer
ence
. H
is a
ppea
ranc
e sp
oke
pove
rty, b
ut h
is s
kin
scre
amed
op
pres
sor,
a pa
le fa
ce in
the
dark
, ble
ak, h
opel
ess
part
of to
wn.
S
o m
uch
the
sam
e an
d ye
t so
diffe
rent
, Jam
es th
ough
t, fli
ckin
g hi
s bu
tt in
to a
litte
red
alle
y, r
ank
with
pis
s. T
he b
aby’
s cr
ies
wer
e up
on h
im, c
rack
ing
and
gasp
ing,
tortu
red
and
negl
ecte
d. J
ames
felt
his
hear
t sin
k.
He
quic
k-
Pat
het
icD
aniel
Abb
ott
10
M
y m
ind
was
in a
pris
on. A
ll th
ough
ts s
topp
ed in
thei
r tra
cks
by a
few
im
plie
d w
ords
. The
com
fort
of y
our
prid
e, th
at h
ad o
nce
been
like
a s
oft
fleec
e co
at w
rapp
ed a
roun
d m
e, h
ad b
een
cast
off.
It le
ft m
e th
ere
on m
y be
d th
at n
ow fe
lt lik
e a
cold
har
d be
nch.
My
eyes
wer
e gl
ued
to m
y dr
esse
r, st
arin
g at
that
one
spo
t whi
le m
y m
ind
was
a fr
ozen
rec
ord
play
er. I
t kep
t sh
owin
g th
ose
few
sec
onds
of v
indi
catio
n of
ang
ry w
ords
, you
rs a
nd m
ine.
Th
is m
agni
fied
the
feel
ings
of f
ear
and
secl
usio
n th
at s
at in
the
pit o
f my
stom
ach.
The
re s
eem
ed to
be
no c
hanc
e of
pea
ce. N
o w
hite
dov
es. N
o ol
ive
bran
ch. N
o ho
pe.
I sat
bas
king
in d
read
and
lone
lines
s fo
r ho
w lo
ng I
don’
t kno
w. H
ours
…
.Day
s. T
ime
seem
ed to
ble
nd it
self
toge
ther
aro
und
me.
Foo
d w
as le
ft un
-to
uche
d an
d, w
hene
ver
othe
rs fo
rced
som
e in
to m
y st
omac
h, it
cam
e ba
ck
up in
a m
atte
r of
min
utes
. The
bed
nev
er g
aine
d ba
ck th
e co
mfo
rt it
had
once
had
. But
eve
n if
it di
d, I
wou
ld s
till n
ot h
ave
slep
t bec
ause
whe
neve
r m
y ey
es c
lose
d, th
e vi
sion
of t
he p
ast w
as m
uch
clea
rer.
My
skin
bec
ame
an u
gly
pale
hid
e in
stea
d of
the
beau
tiful
thin
g yo
u on
ce c
ould
n’t r
esis
t to
touc
h. N
othi
ng o
f tha
t per
son
was
left;
onl
y a
brok
en s
oul r
emai
ned.
Min
d P
riso
nT
here
sa J
ohns
tone
11
Peop
le w
ho s
aid
they
love
d m
e an
d ca
red
for
me
cam
e. T
hey
tried
to
mak
e m
e “s
top
my
fool
ishn
ess.
” N
o, th
is w
as n
ot fo
olis
hnes
s. T
his
was
wel
l de
serv
ed p
unis
hmen
t fro
m ju
stic
e fo
r no
t see
ing
thin
gs c
lear
ly. It
did
n’t m
at-
ter
wha
t the
y sa
id, t
heir
wor
ds I
neve
r tru
ly h
eard
. The
ir fa
ces
wer
e al
way
s fo
ggy
and
blur
ry, a
s if
cove
red
by a
film
. Eve
ryon
e, b
ut th
at o
ne. T
he p
erso
n w
ho h
ad c
ause
d th
e ha
te to
ris
e in
a b
ond
of lo
ve. T
he o
ne w
ho h
ad fl
irted
w
ith m
e in
fron
t of y
ou. T
he o
ne y
ou w
ante
d m
e to
sta
y aw
ay fr
om. T
he p
er-
son
who
all
the
blam
e fo
r th
is w
as to
res
t on.
The
y ca
me
and
sung
a s
ong
that
they
love
d m
e, th
at th
ey w
ould
nev
er le
ave
me.
Tha
t the
y w
ould
nev
er
have
hur
t me.
Litt
le d
id th
ey k
now,
they
had
alre
ady
hurt
me
beca
use
they
w
ere
the
reas
on th
at y
ou h
ad le
ft.
I n
ever
onc
e cr
ied
durin
g al
l thi
s. M
y ey
es c
ould
not
mak
e th
e w
ater
sp
ill;
they
wer
e to
o bu
sy s
tarin
g at
not
hing
. My
thro
at w
as to
o dr
y an
d tig
ht
to le
t me
scre
am o
ut o
r w
him
per
from
the
pain
I w
as g
oing
thro
ugh
insi
de.
In fa
ct, I
cou
ldn’
t eve
n sp
eak.
Nev
er o
nce
did
I sho
w e
mot
ion
on m
y fa
ce.
It ke
pt it
s bl
ank
look
the
entir
e tim
e. T
hat w
as a
ll tru
e un
til th
at o
ne n
ight
. Th
e do
or o
pene
d w
ith a
sho
ut o
f my
nam
e. F
eet p
ound
ed o
n th
e flo
or a
s so
meo
ne r
an to
my
side
as
fast
as
they
cou
ld. S
trong
arm
s w
rapp
ed a
roun
d m
e. W
hisp
ered
, sw
eet w
ords
rea
ched
my
ear,
begg
ing
me
to w
ake
up. I
felt
Running Out of Ink
12
tear
s th
at w
ere
not m
y te
ars
soak
ing
into
my
shirt
. The
film
was
blo
wn
away
: th
e re
cord
pla
yer
stop
ped
play
ing,
the
pris
on w
alls
bro
ke d
own.
The
tear
s st
arte
d to
flow
for
the
first
tim
e in
four
mon
ths,
and
afte
r a
few
mom
ents
of
bein
g in
hea
ven,
the
wor
ld b
ecam
e da
rk a
s I d
rifte
d of
f int
o a
peac
eful
res
t.
W
hen
daw
n’s
light
flow
ed in
to th
e ro
om, I
wok
e up
in s
hock
. You
wer
e st
ill th
ere,
muc
h to
my
surp
rise,
for
I had
thou
ght y
ou w
ere
a dr
eam
. You
he
ld m
e cl
ose
as y
ou s
lept
nex
t to
me
on th
e be
d: n
ot m
y be
d, w
here
I la
st
rem
embe
red
bein
g, b
ut a
bed
that
was
sur
roun
ded
by w
hite
wal
ls a
nd m
a-ch
ines
that
wer
e co
nnec
ted
to m
e, g
ivin
g m
e lif
e. B
ut tr
uly
my
lifel
ine
was
yo
ur a
rms
arou
nd m
e an
d yo
ur e
yes,
that
ope
ned
soon
, hol
ding
min
e.
I
had
forg
otte
n th
at y
ou h
ad to
go
on a
bus
ines
s tri
p th
e m
orni
ng o
f our
fig
ht, f
orgo
tten
that
you
wer
e go
ing
to s
leep
on
the
couc
h th
at n
ight
, not
w
antin
g to
wak
e m
e. F
orgo
tten
your
pro
mis
e to
nev
er le
ave
me.
For
gotte
n al
l the
love
you
had
spo
ken
to h
ave
for
me.
Onl
y w
hen
seei
ng y
our
eyes
did
I r
emem
ber.
Feel
ing
your
arm
s tig
hten
thei
r ho
ld, I
gai
ned
back
all
that
was
lo
st. I
had
pea
ce w
ith y
ou n
ext t
o m
e.
Two
whi
te d
oves
flew
out
side
the
win
dow.
You
had
pla
ced
an o
live
bran
ch w
ith fl
ower
s on
the
tabl
e ne
xt to
the
bed.
I ha
d ho
pe. I
had
you
.
Winter 2011
17
the words behind your tearsreasons under the scars.“I’m sorry it had to be this way.”Opens his eyes,a dream turned realityjust can’t believe what’s in front of him,a body drifting out at seaOh, but she smiles at the ending she wrote.
Running Out of Ink
14
ened
his
pac
e, in
to th
e cr
ies,
his
wal
k be
cam
e a
jog,
his
sel
f pity
bec
ame
a re
scue
mis
sion
. Ev
ery
light
in th
e ho
use
was
on.
Zep
pelin
’s “
Daz
ed a
nd
Con
fuse
d” s
irene
d ou
t of t
he w
indo
ws.
The
hou
se h
ad p
ink
and
purp
le p
aint
pe
elin
g lik
e su
nbur
nt s
kin;
the
shin
y br
ass
door
that
rea
d 21
4 w
as d
raw
-in
g hi
m in
. Af
ter
two
tent
ativ
e ta
ps h
e w
atch
ed th
e ya
rd; a
n un
seen
thre
at
linge
red.
Una
nsw
ered
, he
took
two
step
s to
war
d th
e st
reet
whe
n co
nsci
ence
pa
ngs
cut i
nto
his
spiri
t. T
he fa
cele
ss c
ries
and
help
less
scr
eam
s de
man
ded
resc
ue.
J
ames
cle
nche
d hi
s fis
t and
bea
t the
doo
r re
peat
edly,
yel
ling
“ope
n up
” as
hi
s ad
rena
line
gave
him
cou
rage
. H
e st
ood
unde
r th
e fli
cker
ing
porc
h lig
ht,
his
hand
s sh
akin
g, h
is b
ody
shift
ing
back
and
forth
. H
e tu
rned
the
hand
le
and
kick
ed th
e do
or o
pen.
Life
less
bod
ies
lay
limp
in th
e liv
ing
room
, dru
nk
or h
igh
or b
oth,
they
wer
e de
ad to
the
wor
ld.
Hal
f eat
en s
lices
of p
izza
on
pape
r pl
ates
and
em
pty
bottl
es o
f Fiv
e O
’Clo
ck V
odka
sat
lone
ly o
n a
coffe
e ta
ble.
Cig
but
ts a
nd m
ariju
ana
roac
hes,
stil
l sm
okin
g, r
este
d in
a d
ark-
gray
as
h tra
y, c
over
ed w
ith a
pile
of p
last
ic s
kulls
. Th
e ro
om w
as s
tale
and
had
a
num
bnes
s, a
dea
thly
stil
lnes
s. In
a d
ark
corn
er o
n a
rust
y-re
d ch
air
a na
ked
wom
en’s
hea
d bo
bbed
up
and
dow
n on
a d
ead
man
’s c
rotc
h. O
n th
e sm
all
of h
er b
ack
was
a b
right
red
puc
ker
tatto
oed
over
her
ass
-che
eks,
a s
ad-s
ag-
Winter 2011
15
gy p
ile, g
athe
red
on h
er h
eels
. Th
e m
an w
as p
asse
d ou
t and
moa
ning
. Th
e ci
gare
tte h
angi
ng o
ut o
f his
mou
th w
as a
n ar
ch o
f ash
, lit
but n
ever
sm
oked
.
The
bab
y sa
t in
a ca
r se
at o
n th
e fa
r co
uch.
It w
as a
pat
hetic
thin
g, w
ith
its b
ony
face
and
larg
e-da
rk e
yes.
Stil
l scr
eam
ing,
its
mou
th o
pen
wid
e, it
s sk
in p
ale
purp
le, i
ts c
hest
thro
bbin
g, b
eggi
ng fo
r br
eath
. Ja
mes
sto
od a
mid
st
the
linge
ring
smok
e an
d ro
tten
soul
s, h
is e
yes
wat
erin
g, w
atch
ing
a he
lple
ss
child
, a v
ictim
, lyi
ng in
its
seat
uns
trapp
ed, u
nlov
ed.
Jam
es r
each
ed d
own
and
pulle
d th
e ba
by in
to h
is a
rms.
The
bab
y bu
ried
its fa
ce in
Jam
es n
eck,
its
ches
t stil
l hea
ving
, its
mou
th w
et a
nd c
old.
He
patte
d th
e ba
by o
n its
bac
k,
rubb
ing
its n
eck,
his
scr
uffy
bea
rd ti
cklin
g its
che
ek.
Sile
nced
, sur
pris
ed,
love
d, th
e ba
by s
topp
ed s
crea
min
g. W
ith it
s la
rge
dark
eye
s, it
sca
nned
Ja
mes
face
. Ja
mes
kis
sed
the
baby
on
its c
heek
and
pul
led
it in
to h
is c
hest
. W
hat i
f? H
e sl
umpe
d do
wn
into
the
couc
h, th
e ba
by h
eld
tight
aga
inst
him
, si
lent
. Ja
mes
clo
sed
his
eyes
and
felt
a st
ream
of h
ot te
ars
trick
le d
own
his
chee
ks.
He
reac
hed
into
his
Car
hartt
, pul
led
out h
is c
ell p
hone
, and
dia
led
911.
The
bab
y’s
ches
t had
sto
pped
hea
ving
and
was
ris
ing
up a
nd d
own
slow
ly a
gain
st J
ames
’s ja
cket
. Ja
mes
let h
is te
ars
fall
on th
e ba
by’s
bal
d he
ad.
As h
e he
ard
sire
ns a
ppro
achi
ng h
e lo
oked
dow
n at
the
now
cal
m
baby
. W
hat i
f?
Running Out of Ink
16
The silence louder than everthinking one day you’ll be perends in -fectand that’s just what it does.A stream of a dark mask once wornshed upon crimson in blushsinking to the bottom of deep waterslowly rising to the surfacethe warmth of rays refracted,your past retracted.A refreshing breath ever suffocating,riptide...but as you go back downhe pulls you uplife preserver in hand.You fight his grip,this is where you want to be,he won’t let goas you exhaust your efforts to escape.Standing upon solid grounddrenched in such bitter hostilitywraps you in a gentle embraceand you want to fight it, failing miserably.He wants your story
A Journey at SeaElizabeth Morse
Running Out of Ink
21
“Hi t
here
! G
oing
to S
inkh
ole?
” I g
lanc
e ov
er h
is s
houl
der
to th
e no
w-
visi
ble
tow
n w
ithou
t mov
ing
my
head
, an
d no
d a
mom
ent l
ater
.
“Y
eah,
I su
ppos
e th
at’s
my
next
sto
p.”
I loo
k ov
er e
ach
of th
e m
en
arou
nd m
e. T
wo
are
hold
ing
pist
ols
in o
ne h
and,
with
cur
ved
mac
hete
s on
thei
r be
lts,
and
the
thir
d is
spo
rtin
g a
pair
of
spik
ed g
love
s. T
he o
ne
to m
y le
ft is
hol
ding
wha
t loo
ks li
ke a
wel
ding
torc
h, a
nd th
e on
e on
the
righ
t has
a s
impl
e pi
ece
of w
ood
with
som
e ru
sted
nai
ls r
amm
ed th
roug
h it.
The
mid
dle
man
spe
aks
agai
n.
“W
ell,
then
you
kno
w a
bout
the
toll,
of
cour
se,
for
usin
g th
e ro
ad
to S
inkh
ole.
” H
e lo
ops
a th
umb
into
his
bel
t, an
d I t
ilt m
y he
ad s
light
ly
befo
re s
hrug
ging
.
“N
ope,
can
’t sa
y I’v
e he
ard
of it
. H
ow m
uch?
” I p
rete
nd to
not
not
ice
the
men
on
my
flank
s sl
owly
take
a h
alf-
step
clo
ser.
The
mid
dle
man
’s
shou
lder
s sh
ake
as h
e ch
uckl
es.
“Eve
ryth
ing
you
have
in th
at p
ack.
The
se a
re to
ugh
times
, so
we
need
a
lot t
o…fe
ed th
e ki
ds.”
He
take
s a
step
tow
ards
me.
In th
e ba
ck o
f m
y m
ind,
I st
art t
o th
read
thro
ugh
the
wea
ve o
f th
e fu
ture
, se
eing
whe
re th
e ne
xt f
ew m
inut
es w
ill g
o.
“W
ell,
that
mig
ht b
e ha
rd,”
I sa
y. “
I’ve
got k
ids
of m
y ow
n to
fee
d,
18
So beautiful all of my movements freeze.I wish he would run to me; he won’t yet.Red on Blue so enchanting fire on sea,I watch as he laughs, smiles, a new day met.
Then his voice calls me to join in, come playNever have I had the will to say no.So much energy spent so many waystill finally he falls; and it’s always so
Asleep in my arms, his trust shown in this,eager seas calm in a safe love-soaked bay,fire against my chest receives a kissand I am grateful, content to just stay, lay
Of all things I fear death do I more,Yet you, little brother, I’d give life for
Two ToneJesslynn Lupo
19
I wal
k. It
’s w
hat I
spe
nd m
ost o
f m
y tim
e do
ing
thes
e da
ys.
Just
tr
avel
ing
from
pla
ce to
pla
ce.
Obs
ervi
ng,
lear
ning
, so
met
imes
eve
n in
tera
ctin
g or
mak
ing
a di
ffere
nce
in s
omeo
ne’s
life
. U
sual
ly,
thou
gh,
I ju
st w
alk.
I st
are
at th
e gr
ound
a lo
t. O
r at
leas
t tha
t’s
whe
re m
y ey
es
are
poin
ted,
but
I’m
not
wat
chin
g th
e gr
ound
. I’m
lost
in m
y th
ough
ts;
reco
untin
g pa
st e
xper
ienc
es,
past
glo
ries
, pa
st f
ailu
res.
Th
ere’
s no
t muc
h to
look
at,
anyw
ay.
Whe
n I w
alk,
the
grou
nd is
lit
tle m
ore
than
ash
and
dir
t. It
used
to b
e m
uch
mor
e gr
een,
but
that
ch
ange
d a
long
tim
e ag
o. T
he m
onst
ers
that
turn
ed it
gra
y an
d br
own
are
long
gon
e, b
ut m
ost o
f th
e su
rviv
ors
from
thei
r in
vasi
on h
ave
mor
e th
an f
illed
thei
r sh
oes.
Stil
l, th
ere’
s a
few
wor
th h
elpi
ng,
and
that
’s w
hy
I’m h
ere.
I’ve
seen
the
past
, an
d I’v
e se
en th
e fu
ture
. It’
s a
tric
ky th
ing
tryi
ng to
he
lp a
n en
tire
spec
ies,
so
my
influ
ence
is u
sual
ly li
mite
d to
a p
ush
here
an
d a
nudg
e th
ere.
Usu
ally
. I g
o to
all
kind
s of
exo
tic p
lace
s; s
omet
imes
to
hel
p, s
omet
imes
to le
arn.
Som
etim
es ju
st to
rel
ax,
thou
gh th
ose
visi
ts
are
rare
r th
an I’
d lik
e.
Wal
kin
gBr
ian H
udson
20
Winter 2011
A g
ust p
icks
up
and
my
coat
fla
ps a
gain
st m
y le
gs.
It’s
hot,
but I
like
th
e co
at’s
wei
ght o
n m
y sh
ould
ers.
Tha
t and
the
gun
stra
pped
aro
und
one
shou
lder
, pa
rtly
han
ging
off
the
smal
l ruc
ksac
k w
ith m
y pr
ovis
ions
in
side
. Th
e co
at p
rote
cts
me
from
the
dust
pre
tty w
ell,
espe
cial
ly th
e hi
gh c
olla
r ar
ound
my
neck
. I h
ate
sand
in m
y sh
irt.
A w
ide-
brim
med
hat
pr
otec
ts m
y he
ad a
nd k
eeps
my
face
in th
e sh
ade.
It’s
not
qui
te e
noug
h to
sto
p th
is c
loud
of
dust
fro
m g
ettin
g at
me,
thou
gh.
I squ
int m
y ey
es r
e-fle
xive
ly,
even
thou
gh th
ey’r
e al
read
y pr
otec
ted
by b
lack
-len
sed
gogg
les.
The
dust
cle
ars
for
a se
cond
to r
evea
l the
win
ding
roa
d ah
ead.
Be-
yond
a r
idge
, I c
an m
ake
out t
he h
alf-
hidd
en f
orm
of
a sm
all c
ity.
Then
it
vani
shes
in th
e sw
irlin
g cl
ouds
, an
d I d
uck
my
head
dow
n an
d ke
ep
wal
king
. I s
tare
at t
he g
roun
d ev
en m
ore
inte
ntly
for
sev
eral
min
utes
, ju
st
mak
ing
sure
I st
ay o
n th
e ro
ad h
eadi
ng f
or th
e ci
ty.
I com
e to
an
abru
pt
stop
whe
n I n
otic
e a
pair
of
feet
a c
oupl
e ya
rds
in f
ront
of
me.
I loo
k up
slo
wly
and
not
ice
the
feet
are
not
alo
ne.
The
pers
on is
fla
nked
by
two
mor
e pe
ople
, an
d a
quic
k gl
ance
to e
ither
sid
e re
veal
s on
e m
ore
pers
on o
n ea
ch s
ide
of m
e, f
or a
tota
l of
five.
Mos
t of
them
ha
ve s
carv
es o
r m
asks
ove
r th
eir
face
s, b
ut th
e on
e w
ith a
vis
ible
mou
th
is g
rinn
ing.
Min
e re
mai
ns n
eutr
al a
s th
e m
iddl
e m
an s
peak
s.
Running Out of Ink
25
hand
thro
ugh
my
shor
t, gr
ay h
air
as I
wal
k to
war
ds th
e ba
r. I b
link
a fe
w
times
afte
r pu
lling
the
gogg
les
off,
and
sit d
own
on a
sto
ol.
A w
oman
beh
ind
the
bar
appr
oach
es.
She
has
an e
ye-c
atch
ing
set o
f cu
rves
, sh
own
off
by s
kin-
tight
leat
her
pant
s, h
eld
up w
ith s
uspe
nder
s. A
sh
ort-
barr
eled
sho
tgun
sits
at h
er w
aist
. A
roun
d he
r ta
nned
fac
e ha
ngs
curl
y bl
ack
hair
and
her
mou
th h
as th
e sl
ight
est h
int o
f a
smir
k.
“A
ftern
oon.
You
look
new
. N
eed
anyt
hing
?” I
give
a s
light
sm
irk
of m
y ow
n.
“I
am
. Ju
st p
assi
ng th
roug
h. W
hat d
o yo
u ha
ve?”
“Wat
er if
you
hav
e th
e ch
ips,
loca
l bre
ws
if yo
u do
n’t,
a fe
w d
iffer
ent
kind
s of
mea
t, an
d so
me
gene
ral p
rovi
sion
s.”
I do
a qu
ick
men
tal c
heck
of
my
food
bef
ore
reac
hing
into
a p
ocke
t and
dep
ositi
ng a
han
dful
of
coin
s on
to th
e ba
r.
“A
bot
tle o
f w
ater
, tw
o pa
ckag
es o
f m
eat,
and
a gl
ass
of th
e lo
cal
stuf
f sh
ould
take
car
e of
thin
gs f
or n
ow.”
The
wom
an s
mile
s an
d no
ds
as s
he p
icks
up
the
coin
s, d
isap
pear
ing
into
the
back
, an
d re
turn
ing
a m
inut
e la
ter
with
the
requ
este
d go
ods.
Afte
r I p
ut th
e w
ater
and
mea
t in
to m
y sa
ck,
I pic
k up
the
glas
s of
the
mys
teri
ous
brow
nish
flu
id,
nod,
an
d tu
rn to
fac
e th
e w
ider
est
ablis
hmen
t. I l
ift th
e gl
ass
to m
y no
se a
nd
22
Winter 2011
and
this
is a
ll I h
ave.
” Th
e m
iddl
e m
an s
ighs
and
sha
kes
his
head
. I
reac
h up
and
scr
atch
the
stub
bly
gray
hai
r on
my
chee
k.
“N
ot m
y pr
oble
m,
old
man
. Yo
u’re
on
our
road
, so
you
hav
e to
pay
th
e to
ll. I
thin
k it’
d be
bet
ter
if yo
u di
d th
ings
the
easy
way
.” H
e cr
acks
hi
s kn
uckl
es,
care
ful n
ot to
run
the
spik
es o
f hi
s gl
oves
thro
ugh
his
own
hand
s. I
shru
g m
y sh
ould
ers
and
rais
e m
y ha
nds
up.
“
True
, I’m
cer
tain
ly a
ll fo
r do
ing
thin
gs q
uick
ly.”
With
a c
lick,
a k
nife
ap
pear
s fr
om b
enea
th m
y sl
eeve
into
my
left
hand
. Le
ss th
an a
sec
ond
late
r, th
e bl
ade
is p
rotr
udin
g fr
om th
e th
roat
of
the
mid
dle
man
. I s
ee a
fla
sh o
f hi
s fu
ture
: sp
onta
neou
sly
exec
uted
by
his
boss
in a
few
wee
ks in
fr
ont o
f th
e pe
ople
of
Sink
hole
as
a de
mon
stra
tion.
I car
ry th
roug
h on
the
mom
entu
m a
nd s
hove
the
man
tow
ards
the
gunm
an o
n th
e le
ft, k
nock
ing
the
two
over
. Ta
king
one
mor
e st
ep,
I bri
ng
my
righ
t foo
t up
into
the
stom
ach
of th
e ot
her
gunm
an,
bow
ling
him
ov
er.
A d
ownw
ard
stri
ke in
to th
e ba
ck o
f hi
s sk
ull s
ends
a b
one
splin
ter
into
his
bra
in;
I see
him
rap
ing
the
may
or’s
twel
ve-y
ear
old
daug
hter
in
a w
eek.
Thre
e se
cond
s ha
ve p
asse
d si
nce
the
knife
cam
e ou
t, an
d th
e ot
her
two
men
hav
e ov
erco
me
thei
r in
itial
sho
ck,
mov
ing
tow
ards
me.
The
Running Out of Ink
23
man
with
the
spik
ed c
lub
trie
s an
ove
rhea
d sw
ing.
I si
dest
ep a
nd u
se h
is
mom
entu
m to
trip
him
, hi
s ab
dom
en f
allin
g on
to th
e sp
ikes
; I s
ee h
im
drin
king
him
self
to d
eath
in S
inkh
ole’
s ta
vern
in a
cou
ple
mon
ths.
The
man
with
the
wel
ding
torc
h tr
ies
to lu
nge
with
the
flam
ing
tip a
t m
e. I
arre
st h
is m
otio
n by
gra
bbin
g hi
s ar
m a
nd,
brea
king
the
bone
, bu
ry th
e to
rch
in h
is s
houl
der.
He
colla
pses
, sc
ream
ing
from
the
pain
; he
will
pas
s ou
t bef
ore
craw
ling
to S
inkh
ole.
Tho
ugh
his
arm
will
nev
er
fully
rec
over
, he
sta
ys w
ith th
e w
oman
that
hel
ps h
im r
ecov
er,
mar
ries
he
r, an
d th
eir
gran
dson
will
ear
n gr
eat h
onor
s in
a n
ew w
ar a
gain
st th
e re
turn
ing
mon
ster
s. A
pus
h he
re,
a nu
dge
ther
e.
I b
egin
wal
king
tow
ards
the
tow
n ag
ain,
look
ing
at th
e la
st g
unm
an
as h
e st
rugg
les
to p
ull h
imse
lf ou
t fro
m b
enea
th h
is d
ead
com
rade
. I p
ull
the
flap
of m
y co
at a
side
, an
d re
mov
e on
e of
the
pist
ols
hang
ing
from
m
y be
lt. A
sin
gle
shot
inte
rrup
ts th
e m
an’s
atte
mpt
s to
sho
ot m
e; s
tabb
ed
in th
e ba
ck b
y an
othe
r of
his
kin
d ov
er g
ambl
ing
debt
s. I
reco
ver
the
knife
and
cle
an it
off
as I
cont
inue
wal
king
.
A
noth
er h
our
pass
es b
efor
e I a
rriv
e in
the
tow
n. A
dir
t-st
reak
ed s
ign
sim
ply
says
“Si
nkho
le.”
The
roa
d st
retc
hes
from
one
end
of
tow
n to
an
othe
r, th
ough
rea
lly to
cal
l it a
roa
d is
a b
it of
an
over
stat
emen
t. It
24
Winter 2011
rese
mbl
es m
ore
a br
oad
line
of d
irt t
hat h
as b
ecom
e m
ore
like
ston
e th
an s
oil.
Build
ings
in v
ario
us s
tate
s of
dis
repa
ir, m
ade
from
a v
arie
ty o
f m
ater
ials
, lin
e ei
ther
sid
e of
it,
with
doz
ens
mor
e ar
rang
ed r
ando
mly
be-
hind
them
. A
num
ber
of r
uste
d ve
hicl
es li
ne th
e ro
ad,
mos
t hav
ing
been
st
ripp
ed o
f an
ythi
ng u
sefu
l.
Th
ere’
re o
nly
a fe
w p
eopl
e w
alki
ng a
bout
. N
ot to
o su
rpri
sing
, gi
ven
the
heat
toda
y. M
ost o
f th
em a
re w
eari
ng c
olor
less
clo
thes
sta
ined
with
di
rt;
wat
er f
or w
ashi
ng is
one
luxu
ry o
nly
avai
labl
e fu
rthe
r w
est.
A f
ew
look
in m
y di
rect
ion
with
em
otio
ns r
angi
ng f
rom
indi
ffere
nce
to c
urio
sity
to
con
cern
, bu
t non
e m
ove
to a
ppro
ach
me,
con
tent
to w
atch
me
wal
k. I
glan
ce f
rom
sid
e to
sid
e, lo
okin
g fo
r an
ythi
ng o
f in
tere
st,
not c
omm
uni-
catin
g w
ith a
ny o
f th
e pe
ople
bey
ond
a si
mpl
e no
d of
ack
now
ledg
emen
t.
A
bout
hal
fway
dow
n, I
com
e to
a b
uild
ing
with
a f
ront
wal
l mai
nly
mad
e up
of
dirt
-str
eake
d gl
ass.
I st
op w
alki
ng.
The
fron
t doo
r is
ope
n,
and
I hea
r a
bund
le o
f no
ises
em
anat
ing
from
with
in.
I tur
n to
app
roac
h th
e bu
ildin
g, n
otic
ing
the
fade
d si
gn th
at s
ays
“Reg
ina’
s” a
bove
the
door
.
I s
tep
into
the
far
dim
mer
inte
rior
, si
ghin
g sl
ight
ly a
t the
coo
ler
air.
A fe
w p
atro
ns lo
ok u
p, w
atch
ing
me.
I pu
ll th
e ha
t off
my
head
and
run
a
Running Out of Ink
29
shap
e. R
egin
a ha
s sp
rung
into
act
ion
too,
pum
ping
two
shot
s in
to a
thir
d m
an b
efor
e di
ving
into
cov
er b
ehin
d a
pile
of
scra
p m
etal
.
Sl
oan
and
his
surv
ivin
g he
nchm
en a
re f
irin
g ba
ck;
first
at R
egin
a,
then
me
whe
n m
y m
ovem
ent d
raw
s th
eir
atte
ntio
n. I
hit t
he g
roun
d an
d si
nk in
to a
fir
ing
crou
ch a
gain
, m
y gu
n re
ady.
I un
leas
h th
ree
shot
s in
to
the
leg
of a
noth
er h
ench
man
, ta
king
him
out
of
the
fight
; he
sur
rend
ers
him
self
to th
e m
ercy
of
the
tow
nspe
ople
and
join
s th
em,
even
tual
ly f
a-th
erin
g a
daug
hter
with
Reg
ina,
who
sav
es th
e to
wn
from
a f
utur
e cr
isis
.
Th
e la
st tw
o m
en tr
y to
take
cov
er,
but I
cat
ch th
e la
st h
ench
man
in
the
head
just
bef
ore
he d
ucks
out
of
cove
r; ti
red
of li
fe w
ith S
loan
, he
w
ande
rs in
to th
e w
aste
land
, on
ly to
be
prom
ptly
eat
en b
y a
sand
cra
wle
r.
I a
dvan
ce a
t a tr
ot to
war
ds w
here
Slo
an is
hid
ing
behi
nd c
over
. I h
ear
him
scr
eam
ing
thre
ats.
He
pops
up
from
cov
er to
fir
e at
me,
onl
y to
take
a
shot
dir
ectly
to th
e ch
est f
rom
Reg
ina.
His
arm
or a
bsor
bs th
e w
orst
of
the
impa
ct,
and
he s
tagg
ers
back
. I r
aise
my
rifle
bac
k up
, an
d fir
e a
sing
le s
hot t
hrou
gh h
is e
ye;
with
out h
is f
rien
d al
ive
to b
acks
tab
him
, he
su
rviv
es lo
ng e
noug
h to
inst
ead
be s
hot i
n th
e fa
ce b
y hi
s ow
n gr
eedy
br
othe
r.Si
lenc
e se
ttles
ove
r th
e to
wn.
Reg
ina
stan
ds a
nd w
alks
tow
ards
me,
her
26
Winter 2011
take
a p
reca
utio
nary
sni
ff. It
doe
sn’t
smel
l tox
ic,
at le
ast.
I atte
mpt
a s
ip
and
my
face
scr
unch
es u
p at
the
flavo
r. A
hh,
if on
ly I
coul
d ha
ve a
goo
d A
ldeb
aran
Whi
skey
aga
in.
Ano
ther
wom
an a
ppro
ache
s an
d ta
kes
a se
at n
ext t
o m
ine,
sm
iling
. Sh
e’s
wea
ring
onl
y a
skir
t a m
atte
r of
inch
es lo
ng,
and
a to
p th
at’s
mor
e un
derw
ear
than
pro
per
clot
hing
. H
er f
ace
is p
owde
red
a pa
le w
hite
. I
nod
cord
ially
to h
er.
“Hi t
here
. N
ew in
tow
n?”
I nod
aga
in a
nd ta
ke a
noth
er s
ip o
f th
e dr
ink,
tryi
ng to
kee
p m
y fa
ce s
trai
ght.
She
lean
s in
and
her
voi
ce d
rops
sl
ight
ly.
“W
ould
you
…lik
e a
tour
of
the
sigh
ts?”
M
y m
outh
twitc
hes
into
a s
mir
k fo
r a
seco
nd.
“Tha
nk y
ou,
but I
’m ju
st
stop
ping
to r
est m
y fe
et.
I’m a
frai
d I h
aven
’t th
e tim
e fo
r…pl
easa
ntri
es.
Perh
aps
anot
her
time.
” H
er s
mile
van
ishe
s an
d sh
e st
orm
s of
f w
ithou
t a
wor
d. I
look
bac
k ou
t acr
oss
the
esta
blis
hmen
t, an
d no
tice
mos
t of
the
patr
ons
are
getti
ng u
p an
d m
akin
g th
eir
way
to th
e w
indo
ws.
I se
t the
dr
ink
dow
n an
d fo
llow
them
.
“O
h, n
o, it
’s S
loan
,” I
over
hear
som
eone
say
. A
few
mut
tere
d ob
scen
-iti
es r
each
my
ears
. O
ver
the
head
s of
the
othe
rs,
I can
see
a h
alf-
doze
n m
en c
omin
g up
the
road
fro
m th
e sa
me
dire
ctio
n I h
ad c
ome
from
. O
ne
Running Out of Ink
27
wal
ks in
fro
nt,
clea
rly
the
lead
er.
He
has
a bl
ack
coat
on,
whi
ch c
over
s w
hat a
ppea
rs to
be
func
tiona
l arm
or o
ver
mos
t of
his
body
. A
pai
r of
pi
stol
s ha
ng o
ff hi
s be
lt, b
ut h
is h
ands
gri
p a
finel
y po
lishe
d ri
fle.
The
othe
r m
en w
ith h
im c
arry
var
ious
oth
er f
orm
s of
sm
all a
rms.
I ste
p ba
ck a
nd tu
rn to
see
the
wom
an f
rom
the
bar
appr
oach
ing,
her
sh
otgu
n al
read
y in
han
d.
“R
egin
a, r
ight
?” S
he n
ods.
“Th
is S
loan
fel
low
, I t
ake
it he
’s tr
oubl
e?”
“Ye
ah.
Lead
er o
f a
raid
er g
ang,
they
com
e by
eve
ry m
onth
for
‘tr
ib-
ute’
of
wat
er,
food
, w
omen
, w
hate
ver
they
wan
t. Pe
ople
get
sho
t if
they
do
n’t f
ollo
w in
stru
ctio
ns.
I’m
the
only
one
will
ing
to f
ight
bac
k, b
ut I
can’
t tak
e th
em a
ll.
It’s
onl
y be
en a
wee
k si
nce
thei
r la
st v
isit,
thou
gh.
Som
ethi
ng’s
wro
ng.”
I kn
ew im
med
iate
ly w
hat i
t was
. So
meo
ne li
kely
saw
my
enco
unte
r w
ith
Slo
an’s
men
on
the
road
, an
d fo
llow
ed m
e to
tow
n. N
ow p
eopl
e w
ould
sta
rt d
ying
bec
ause
of
me,
unl
ess
I res
olve
d th
eir
prob
lem
with
Sl
oan
alto
geth
er.
“Lis
ten,
I ne
ed y
ou to
go
out t
here
and
talk
to h
im.
Just
kee
p hi
m
busy
for
a m
inut
e, g
ive
me
time
to g
et s
et u
p on
the
roof
. I’l
l hel
p yo
u ta
ke c
are
of h
im.”
Reg
ina
grin
ned.
28
Winter 2011
“I k
new
ther
e w
as s
omet
hing
I lik
ed a
bout
you
as
soon
as
I saw
you
. Yo
u go
t it.”
I be
gin
wal
king
tow
ards
the
back
of
the
build
ing,
put
ting
a ha
nd o
n
Regi
na’s
sho
ulde
r as
I pa
ss h
er.
I ret
riev
e m
y ha
t and
gog
gles
fr
om th
e ba
r an
d pu
t the
m o
n as
I w
alk
outs
ide.
Clim
bing
a la
dder
to
the
room
, I s
hrug
off
my
rifle
, an
d be
gin
prep
arin
g it.
The
bar
rel e
x-te
nds
out f
rom
the
com
pact
fra
me,
and
I se
t its
fir
e m
ode
for
mar
ksm
an:
sing
le-s
hot,
scop
ed f
ire.
I cro
uch
dow
n an
d cr
awl u
p to
the
edge
of
the
build
ing,
look
ing
dow
n in
to th
e st
reet
. Re
gina
has
gon
e ou
tsid
e, k
eepi
ng h
er o
wn
gun
in
hand
. Sl
oan
and
his
men
spr
ead
out a
roun
d th
e st
reet
, th
eir
guns
hel
d re
ady,
but
not
poi
nted
at a
nyon
e ye
t. I l
ift m
ysel
f up
into
a f
irin
g cr
ouch
an
d ta
ke a
im a
s I l
iste
n to
Reg
ina
and
Sloa
n ar
gue
abou
t wha
t hap
-pe
ned
to h
is m
en.
I aim
for
the
man
just
beh
ind
Sloa
n, a
nd h
is h
ead
expl
odes
; he
kill
s Sl
oan
in h
is s
leep
to ta
ke h
is p
lace
and
raz
e Si
nkho
le
to th
e gr
ound
in a
yea
r.
Be
fore
Slo
an c
an r
eact
to th
e sh
ot,
I aim
and
fir
e at
the
next
man
ov
er;
he d
ies
of s
ome
vene
real
dis
ease
, bu
t not
bef
ore
shar
ing
it w
ith
Regi
na’s
sis
ter
late
r th
is y
ear.
I hit
a bu
tton
to s
witc
h th
e gu
n to
its
as-
saul
t mod
e, a
nd le
ap o
ver
the
roof
edg
e w
hile
the
rifle
cha
nges
its
33
His hand on my thigh, crawling across the denim– Fingers like insect’s legs– toward the hot, dark hollow.Under cover of flickering shadows cast by reflectionsof the film being projected. Catching my breath, Tensing every muscle in my body as I gingerly remove it Again and again and again.
His grip on my hair, tugging the knotted length– A palpable display of prowess– toward the neck’s nape.On the couch with a blue screensaver bouncingaround on the widescreen TV. Holding my gaze,Keeping my full attention as I focus on the flashing DVD and Video trademark.
His tongue on my teeth, sliding along the slickness– Thick like London fog– toward the long, moist cavern.Over parted lips and worn seat cushions coveredwith that holey blanket. Squeezing my wrists,Saying in hushed wet whispers as I listen between breaths Oh man and I want you so bad.
His hand on my stomach, slowly inching downward–An imperceptible movement– toward the vanishing point.In bed and sliding thick fingertips under the elastic
The Fear of Intimacy and Other Phobias orSomething Wicked This Way ComesSara Warren
30
Winter 2011
expr
essi
on o
ne o
f sh
ock.
“I c
an’t
belie
ve h
e’s
final
ly d
ead,
afte
r al
l the
se y
ears
. Yo
u ri
sked
yo
ur li
fe f
or u
s. H
ow c
an w
e…th
ank
you?
” I s
ee th
at,
if I p
lay
thin
gs
righ
t, I c
ould
hav
e a
mem
orab
le e
veni
ng w
ith h
er.
But,
then
, sh
e w
ould
n’t d
evel
op f
eelin
gs f
or th
e su
rviv
ing
henc
hmen
, an
d th
eir
daug
h-te
r w
ould
nev
er c
ome
to b
e, le
adin
g to
the
tow
n’s
dest
ruct
ion.
“You
’ve
alre
ady
give
n m
e en
ough
foo
d an
d w
ater
to g
et b
y, I
have
en
ough
.” I
nod
in th
e di
rect
ion
of th
e fa
llen
gunm
an.
“You
sho
uld
look
af
ter
his
wou
nds.
I do
n’t t
hink
he’
ll be
any
mor
e tr
oubl
e. I
have
to g
o no
w;
I stil
l hav
e a
long
jour
ney
ahea
d of
me.
Tak
e ca
re.”
I tip
my
hat
at h
er a
nd s
ling
my
gun
befo
re tu
rnin
g to
wal
k ou
t of
tow
n. I
don’
t loo
k ba
ck a
s I p
ass
out o
f th
e to
wn,
tryi
ng n
ot to
let t
he im
age
of it
eve
ntu-
ally
gro
win
g to
a th
rivi
ng m
etro
polis
ove
rwhe
lm m
y si
ght.
A p
ush
here
, a
nudg
e th
ere.
31
Circle 1: foolish friends,feebly feeding their delusion of humorclueless clowns in a sick psychosisjuggling flaming fragments of their lives.
Circle 3: the bitch brigade,roaring prideful felines, they prowl so pridefully in a closed psychological circle. So confident in their graceful cat-like voyage
r OOOOW!
a uu
nd
to the same damn place they were 5 min ago.
The Social CircusJess Paauwe
Winter 2011
32
(various noise including belting from the hyper potty-mouthusus, the revving of the engines of the dirtbags, the applauding of the overstuffed easily amused audi-ence)
Circle 2: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN PLEASE DIVERT YOUR ATTENTION TO THE CENTER RING!
Me.
with a beer.
laughing my ass off.
37
“
Shit!
”
Sno
w e
very
whe
re.
Col
d, w
hite
, wet
. A
perfe
ct s
end-
off a
fter a
thre
e-ho
ur
copy
writ
ing
clas
s w
ith P
rofe
ssor
Mon
oton
e. A
lex
clen
ched
his
teet
h, b
iting
off
the
end
of th
e ci
gare
tte h
e’d
forg
otte
n w
as in
his
mou
th.
“
Fuck
!”
The
thin
, pris
sy, b
lond
e ki
ss-a
ss fr
om h
is cl
ass
shov
ed h
er w
ay o
ut th
e bu
ild-
ing
just
as
the
wor
d sh
oved
its
way
out
his
mou
th.
She
glar
ed.
Alex
gla
red
back
. H
is pa
rent
s gl
ared
at h
im li
ke th
at w
hen
they
cau
ght h
im s
wea
ring.
He
was
twen
ty-fo
ur y
ears
old
, and
he
wou
ld s
ay w
hate
ver t
he fu
ck h
e w
ante
d,
dam
nit.
Miss
Pris
s to
ok o
ff in
to th
e sn
ow a
nd A
lex
reac
hed
for a
noth
er c
iga-
rette
. C
lick,
clic
k, c
lick.
His
thum
b sli
pped
on
the
whe
el o
f the
ligh
ter.
He
slam
med
it d
own,
and
out
pop
ped
the
buta
ne fl
ame.
He
suck
ed in
the
poiso
n.
The
nico
tine
soot
hed.
Sm
okin
g ki
lls, i
ndee
d. O
ne c
an o
nly
hope
.
A fe
w m
inut
es o
f int
imat
e lo
ve w
ith h
is ci
gare
tte w
ere
an a
bsol
ute
nece
ssity
be
fore
ven
turin
g ou
t int
o th
at w
hite
shi
t. H
is br
ight
gre
en e
yes
follo
wed
the
desc
ent o
f sev
eral
sno
wfla
kes,
a s
oldi
er e
spyi
ng e
nem
y m
ovem
ents
. H
e di
dn’t
wan
t to
fight
his
way
thro
ugh
it, e
ven
mor
e th
an h
e di
dn’t
wan
t to
go h
ome.
Snow
Ash
lee B
usch
34
Winter 2011
waistband of these pink cotton panties. Exciting my pulse,Forcing blood through my body, statuesque, as I pretend to be Asleep and dreaming.
His mouth on my breast, pulling back the fabric– Lips like suction cups– toward the mounded peak.Around my back, octopus arms stretching to unclasp those tricky hooks from eyes. Arousing my panic, Grazing pimpled flesh as I look up toward the heavens I’m not here and this isn’t happening.
She carried onA perennial effigyA citadel, a bulwarkWith a stone heart.A feeble womanAgainst the strong wind,She quavered. Listless she wokeAnchoredTo relinquished chimeras.A muted waxwingIs a muse for Icarus,Preaching to the sunFor an opportunityTo be sky-bound. Starving the reciprocalHer naked eyesAn encompassing guiseShudderedLike a sphinxOn the brinkOf extinction.
The dust ditheredOn her aching frameInching to a photo’s pane.She shed the lastOf her molted cocoonThat shackled her wings. She unearthedThe vicarious violinAnd composedWith stimulating strings. She played the moments lostAnd the dreams lived.She orchestratedUntil her shouldersSolidified to stone. Gallant in her evolutionShe stoodOn shaking legs.A ballet choreographedFrom plié to assembléA motif moldedTo mirror their passion,
Without HimCasey Wiseman
35 36
Winter 2011
Until her legsSolidified to stone. MasterfullyShe scribedAs if in her own bloodThe storyOf their history.The ink stainedThe hundreds of pages,An immortalMonument constructed,Until her handsSolidified to stone. Facing the sunShe tuned the harp inside,The waxwing serenadingA distant lover,HarmonizingWith her coreShe chantedIn the wind,Until her lungsSolidified to stone.
En masseHer garmentsHer vitalityHer essenceSolidified to stone.Her heart softenedWith wings unclippedAnd flew towards the sunFor him.
41
Running Out of Ink
“
No,
my
faul
t. I
didn
’t se
e yo
u he
re.”
Ooo
, shi
t. W
rong
thin
g to
say
to a
bl
ind
girl.
He
was
abo
ut to
mov
e on
, but
cou
ldn’
t hel
p as
king
, “U
m, a
re y
ou
okay
?”
“I’m
wai
ting
for m
y m
om to
com
e ge
t me.
Usu
ally
my
writ
ing
clas
s is
in
Mac
kina
c, b
ut m
y st
upid
pro
f too
k us
to a
dan
ce c
lass
toda
y.”
“W
hy?”
“
Beat
s m
e. S
omet
hing
abo
ut b
eing
abl
e to
see
poe
try in
stea
d of
just
writ
ing
abou
t it.”
The
girl
sm
iled
just
a b
it.
A
lex
frow
ned.
He
won
dere
d ho
w o
ften
that
hap
pene
d to
her
—pe
ople
for-
getti
ng th
at s
he c
ould
n’t s
ee th
e w
orld
the
way
they
did
, the
way
he
did.
“
Whe
re is
you
r mom
sup
pose
d to
pic
k yo
u up
?”
“Sh
e sh
ould
be
here
, out
in fr
ont o
f the
Con
nect
ion.
Tha
t’s w
here
I am
, rig
ht?”
Her
tong
ue tr
ippe
d a
little
ove
r the
que
stio
n, u
ncer
tain
. “I
can
’t ca
ll he
r. I
drop
ped
my
phon
e in
the
snow
.”
Ale
x lo
oked
aro
und.
The
onl
y ca
rs h
e co
uld
see
wer
e in
the
prof
esso
rs’ l
ot,
half
burie
d un
der w
hite
muc
k.
“U
m, a
ctua
lly, y
ou’re
ove
r by
the
Hon
or’s
bui
ldin
g. T
he C
onne
ctio
n is
over
th
ere.
” H
e po
inte
d. S
hit!
“I m
ean,
off
to th
e rig
ht, t
his
way
.” H
e to
ok a
few
st
eps
to h
is rig
ht s
o sh
e co
uld
hear
his
foot
step
s.
38
Winter 2011
H
e co
uld
gues
s w
hat h
is m
om w
ould
be
doin
g rig
ht n
ow—
prob
ably
enj
oyin
g th
e w
intry
sce
ne fr
om th
e fro
nt w
indo
w b
y th
e ne
w 3
2-in
ch p
lasm
a sc
reen
whi
ch
was
nex
t to
the
foot
-and
-a-h
alf c
ruci
fix w
hich
was
nex
t to
his
scho
ol p
ictu
res
from
kin
derg
arte
n to
sen
ior y
ear.
He
was
sm
iling
in e
very
one
of t
hem
unt
il yo
u go
t to
high
sch
ool;
then
cam
e th
e ga
gs, t
he fr
owns
, and
the
fight
s. T
here
wer
e no
pic
ture
s sin
ce h
e st
arte
d co
llege
. M
om w
ould
be
wat
chin
g th
e ro
ad fo
r him
, fin
gerin
g th
e cr
oss
hang
ing
arou
nd h
er n
eck,
fing
erin
g it
a lit
tle to
o ha
rd.
The
dark
woo
d w
as w
earin
g do
wn
unde
r the
hea
vy a
nd re
peat
ed c
lenc
hing
of h
er
hand
s. T
hose
sam
e ha
nds
that
left
red
mar
ks o
n hi
s fa
ce if
he
chew
ed g
um in
ch
urch
, or p
inch
ed h
is ar
m if
he
didn
’t sin
g a
hym
n lo
ud e
noug
h. O
ne e
ye o
n th
e ro
ad, w
aitin
g to
bitc
h at
him
for b
eing
late
, one
eye
on
the
snow
flake
s, o
ne
hand
on
the
cruc
ifix.
She
’d k
ill h
im if
she
cau
ght h
im s
mok
ing.
Ale
x fro
wne
d,
then
spa
t a b
it of
tarr
ed s
aliv
a on
to th
e pa
vem
ent.
It fr
oze.
T
he e
csta
sy o
f the
forb
idde
n ni
cotin
e or
gasm
end
ed a
ll to
o so
on.
Whe
n hi
s lit
tle w
hite
frie
nd w
as g
one,
Ale
x st
uffe
d it
into
the
ston
e as
htra
y ou
tsid
e th
e bu
ildin
g, re
alizi
ng h
ow c
old
his
ungl
oved
han
ds w
ere.
He
hitc
hed
up h
is th
in
jean
s on
his
bony
hip
s, s
hove
d hi
s re
dden
ing
hand
s in
to h
is po
ofy
blac
k ja
cket
, an
d se
t off
dow
n th
e hu
man
-des
erte
d, s
now
-infe
sted
sid
ewal
k.
Gra
nd V
alle
y w
as g
orge
ous
in th
e su
mm
er, a
n ab
solu
te E
den.
One
pro
b-
39
Running Out of Ink
lem
—su
mm
er la
sted
abo
ut fi
ve m
inut
es w
here
as w
inte
r las
ted
forty
yea
rs.
On
the
flip
side,
the
cam
pus
was
spr
ead
out o
ver a
goo
d ch
unk
of a
cres
, no
build
-in
gs s
hmus
hed
toge
ther
like
a u
nive
rsity
in th
e ci
ty. A
lex
liked
the
open
spa
ce,
the
thic
k, c
hew
y, em
pty
air.
Too
man
y pe
ople
look
ed a
t you
in th
e ci
ty, e
very
-on
e up
in e
very
one
else
’s b
usin
ess.
Her
e, y
ou c
ould
wal
k ar
ound
alo
ne a
nd
smok
e a
godd
amn
ciga
rette
!
Ale
x ru
shed
dow
n th
e sid
ewal
k as
fast
as
he c
ould
with
out s
lippi
ng.
Sinc
e th
ey c
onve
rted
the
clos
est p
arki
ng lo
t int
o th
at d
amn
Hon
or’s
Col
lege
, it w
as
abou
t a tw
enty
mile
wal
k fro
m L
ake
Supe
rior H
all t
o hi
s ca
r par
ked
out b
y La
ker
Villa
ge.
In n
ice
wea
ther
, he
coul
d ju
st c
ut a
cros
s th
e bi
g gr
assy
spa
ce th
at th
e m
arch
ing
band
use
d to
rehe
arse
. To
day,
than
k yo
u M
ichi
gan,
he
had
to fo
llow
th
e sid
ewal
k do
wn
to th
e pr
issy
new
Hon
or’s
bui
ldin
g, h
ang
a rig
ht, t
hen
wal
k a
mill
ion
mile
s, fa
ce to
the
win
d an
d th
e sn
ow.
He
didn
’t ha
ve a
hat
or g
love
s.
Smar
t mov
e, d
umba
ss, h
e hi
ssed
at h
imse
lf.
Nos
e to
the
sidew
alk,
Ale
x fe
lt lik
e he
was
wal
king
on
a cr
uel p
arod
y of
an
outd
oor t
read
mill
. Ea
ch p
avem
ent s
lab
just
like
the
next
. Th
e sn
ow s
omeh
ow
foun
d a
way
to b
low
up
his
nose
eve
n w
ith h
is ch
in s
hove
d in
to h
is ch
est.
He
was
a la
b ra
t in
a sic
k w
eath
er e
xper
imen
t God
was
pla
ying
on
Alle
ndal
e. A
lex
glar
ed a
t the
gro
und
since
he
knew
God
wou
ldn’
t hav
e th
e ba
lls to
sho
w H
im-
40
Winter 2011
self
if he
raise
d hi
s fro
zen
nose
to th
e da
rk s
ky.
J
ust a
bout
to m
ake
the
right
turn
in fr
ont o
f the
new
bui
ldin
gs, h
e ne
arly
pl
owed
thro
ugh
a th
in g
irl s
hive
ring
on th
e sid
ewal
k.
“
Oh
shi—
” tu
mbl
ed o
ut h
is m
outh
, a re
flex.
Ale
x w
as a
bout
to g
lare
at h
er
to w
atch
whe
re s
he w
as g
oing
, but
he
stop
ped
mid
-gla
re, h
is to
ngue
stu
ck to
th
e ro
of o
f his
mou
th.
S
he h
eld
a lo
ng w
hite
can
e w
ith a
rubb
er b
all o
n th
e en
d.
He
look
ed h
er o
ver m
ore
care
fully
, squ
intin
g th
roug
h th
e te
ars
he’d
bee
n fig
htin
g th
e w
hole
wal
k fro
m th
e sn
ow th
at g
ot in
his
eyes
.
Sno
w w
as p
iled
on th
e gi
rl’s
tiny,
aske
w, k
nit c
ap a
nd d
ampe
ned
her s
tring
y br
own
hair.
Her
eye
s w
ere
peel
ed o
pen
wid
e, b
ut it
was
her
ear
s th
at le
d he
r he
ad to
turn
tow
ard
his
voic
e, th
e sq
ueak
of h
is sn
eake
rs o
n th
e sn
ow.
In o
nly
jean
s, li
ke A
lex’
s, a
nd a
thin
Gra
nd V
alle
y ho
odie
, she
was
shi
verin
g vi
olen
tly.
Sh
e di
dn’t
have
a c
oat,
like
he d
id.
“I’m
sor
ry.
I did
n’t h
ear y
ou c
omin
g.”
She
was
apo
logi
zing
to h
im.
He
shift
ed h
is fe
et a
nd g
lanc
ed d
ownw
ard.
“M
y ba
d.”
She
raise
d he
r fac
e to
his.
Ale
x fro
ze, n
ot w
ith c
old.
Her
eye
s w
ere
alm
ost f
ixed
exa
ctly
on
his.
He
was
un
nerv
ed th
at h
er o
ther
sen
ses
coul
d de
tect
him
so
exac
tly.
45
Running Out of Ink
turn
ed to
Ale
x.
“Th
anks
for w
alki
ng w
ith h
er…
um, I
’m s
orry
—w
hat w
as y
our n
ame?
”
“I’m
Ale
x. A
nd it
was
no
prob
lem
.”
The
mom
sm
iled
at h
im, b
ut A
lex
was
wat
chin
g th
e gi
rl. S
he h
ad ro
lled
dow
n th
e w
indo
w. A
gain
, her
eye
s w
ere
focu
sed
alm
ost e
xact
ly o
n hi
s—he
saw
th
at h
er e
yes
wer
e a
brig
ht, o
cean
-blu
e.
“Ye
ah, t
hank
s Al
ex.”
“
No
prob
. H
ey, I
did
n’t g
et y
our n
ame…
?”
She
sm
iled.
“An
na.
I’m A
nna.
”
“Se
e yo
u ar
ound
, Ann
a.”
“
You
too,
Ale
x.”
A
nd th
e w
indo
w ro
lled
up a
nd s
he w
as g
one.
A
lex
mad
e hi
s w
ay to
his
car,
dug
it ou
t of t
he s
now,
clim
bed
in, a
nd fl
ippe
d on
the
heat
er.
He
thre
w h
is pa
ck o
f cig
aret
tes
onto
the
back
sea
t—fo
r onc
e,
not w
antin
g on
e.
42
Winter 2011
“
Cra
p!”
The
girl
shi
fted
her e
ars
in th
e di
rect
ion
of th
e C
onne
ctio
n. “
How
fa
r aw
ay?”
“
Not
too
bad,
” Al
ex re
plie
d, w
onde
ring
if sh
e co
uld
wal
k in
a s
traig
ht li
ne
with
all
this
snow
. “U
m, d
o yo
u w
ant m
e to
wal
k w
ith y
ou?”
“
No,
that
’s o
k, I
can
find
it.”
She
set
off
into
the
whi
tene
ss, s
lippi
ng a
littl
e on
the
sidew
alk
Gra
nd V
alle
y ha
dn’t
salte
d ye
t.
Ale
x sh
ifted
his
feet
aga
in, a
nd th
e w
ords
slip
ped
out,
“Hey
, my
car i
s ov
er
ther
e an
yway
. C
an I
wal
k w
ith y
ou?”
Ale
x sk
ippe
d an
d sli
d ba
ck to
her
sid
e.
She
hes
itate
d. A
lex
won
dere
d if
she
was
afra
id.
It hu
rt to
thin
k th
at s
he
mig
ht b
e, a
nd w
hate
ver r
easo
n sh
e m
ight
be.
He
tried
aga
in.
“Plu
s, ta
lkin
g to
eac
h ot
her m
ight
kee
p ou
r fac
es fr
om fr
eez-
ing.
” A
lex
smile
d, h
is lip
s st
iff.
S
he s
mile
d to
o. “
Than
ks.”
The
y w
alke
d in
sile
nce
for a
littl
e w
hile
—sh
e sk
atin
g th
e ru
bber
-end
ed w
alk-
ing
stic
k ov
er th
e sn
ow, f
eelin
g fo
r ice
pat
ches
; Ale
x ke
epin
g on
e ey
e on
the
sidew
alk
and
one
on h
er, h
is le
ft ha
nd h
alfw
ay e
xten
ded
tow
ard
her j
ust i
n ca
se
her w
alki
ng s
tick
miss
ed o
ne o
f the
dev
ious
ice
patc
hes.
He
didn
’t un
ders
tand
w
hy h
e di
d it,
but
she
rem
inde
d hi
m o
f life
bef
ore
ciga
rette
s, s
arca
sm, a
nd
mom
’s y
ellin
g.
Running Out of Ink
43
“
Did
you
hav
e a
late
cla
ss to
nigh
t?”
she
aske
d.
“Ye
ah, C
opyw
ritin
g.”
“
You
like
it?”
“
No,
it s
ucks
.”
She
laug
hed.
“I t
ook
that
cla
ss la
st y
ear.
Yea
h, it
suc
ks a
ss.”
H
e sm
iled.
“Is
that
writ
ing
clas
s a
once
-a-w
eek
thin
g?”
“
Yeah
, I tr
y to
take
mos
tly n
ight
cla
sses
so
my
pare
nts
can
com
e ge
t me
whe
n th
ey’re
ove
r. O
ther
wise
I’ve
got
ta h
ang
arou
nd h
ere
‘til t
hey
get o
ut o
f w
ork.
”
“Th
at s
ucks
.”
“Ye
ah, p
retty
muc
h. M
y fri
ends
giv
e m
e rid
es w
hen
they
can
but
I’m
not
go
nna
ask
them
to d
o it
all t
he ti
me.
” S
he s
hive
red
mor
e vi
olen
tly a
s th
e sn
ow
pick
ed u
p ag
ain.
Ale
x m
oved
a li
ttle
in fr
ont o
f her
to b
lock
the
wor
st o
f it.
“
Than
ks,”
she
sai
d.
A
lex
felt
so s
trang
e. U
sual
ly, w
hile
wal
king
acr
oss
cam
pus,
he
was
irke
d by
peo
ple
peer
ing
inte
ntly
into
his
face
, try
ing
to s
ee if
they
reco
gnize
d hi
m.
Occ
upat
iona
l haz
ard
of li
ving
in a
sm
all t
own
and
goin
g to
the
loca
l col
lege
—ev
eryo
ne k
new
eve
ryth
ing
abou
t eve
ryon
e. B
ut th
is pe
erin
g w
as d
iffer
ent.
He
knew
that
this
girl
was
list
enin
g to
the
shuf
fling
of h
is fe
et, t
he s
niffl
ing
of h
is
44
Winter 2011
cold
nos
e, s
mel
ling
the
ciga
rette
sm
oke
on h
is cl
othe
s an
d hi
s br
eath
. Bu
t it
was
n’t i
nvas
ive
like
ever
yone
else
. Sh
e fe
lt in
to h
im, t
he w
ay th
e su
n do
es o
n a
quie
t sum
mer
day
.
Hea
dlig
hts
popp
ed u
p in
the
dist
ance
follo
wed
by
a fe
w b
eeps
of a
car
hor
n.
“Th
at m
ust b
e m
y m
om.”
She
sto
pped
wal
king
. “T
hank
s fo
r the
com
pany
, an
d fro
m k
eepi
ng m
y fa
ce fr
om fr
eezin
g.”
She
sm
iled
tow
ard
him
, lea
ning
on
her l
ong
whi
te c
ane.
Ale
x ju
st re
alize
d—sh
e w
as v
ery
pret
ty w
hen
she
smile
d.
“N
o pr
ob.”
T
he c
ar p
ulle
d up
. “H
i sw
eetie
. I’m
so
sorr
y I’m
late
. I g
ot s
tuck
in a
sno
w
bank
at t
he e
nd o
f the
driv
eway
. I t
ried
calli
ng y
ou b
ut y
ou d
idn’
t ans
wer
…”
Th
e m
om w
as a
lso th
in w
ith th
e sa
me
brow
n ha
ir, b
ut h
ers
was
a li
ttle
neat
er—
she
coul
d ob
viou
sly u
se a
mirr
or w
hen
she
got r
eady
in th
e m
orni
ng.
“
Don
’t w
orry
‘bo
ut it
, Mom
. I d
ropp
ed m
y ph
one
in th
e sn
ow a
nd it
took
me
fore
ver t
o fin
d it
agai
n. W
e’ll
have
to ta
ke it
in.
It w
on’t
turn
on.
And
this
guy
wal
ked
with
me.
I’m
fine
.” T
he g
irl tu
rned
tow
ard
the
car.
The
mom
ste
pped
out
to h
elp
her d
augh
ter o
ver t
he s
lippe
ry c
urb,
eye
ing
Alex
for a
sec
ond.
“W
e sh
ould
just
get
you
a n
ew p
hone
.”
“H
ey, I
’m a
ll fo
r tha
t,” th
e gi
rl fe
lt he
r way
tow
ard
the
pass
enge
r sea
t.
The
mom
kep
t a p
ract
iced
eye
on
her u
ntil
the
pass
enge
r doo
r shu
t, th
en
46
Hey! Check it out! I’ve learned to write!OMGLKJALKJLASDFL SASSLLEIT!DUDE! This is awesome! You should seeJust what the heck it’s done to me!
Oh, man, it’s good. It’s been so longSince I had tried to write a songOr poem, or – hell, I used to thinkThis poetry was such a stink.
But, hey, it’s cool. It’s fun. I’m down.I’ll take a stab and mess around.The rhythm lends itself to me,It thinks a whole lot faster, see.
My thinking brain has been so starvedOn useless things. Now this has carvedDirectly to that place againWhere thinking happens with a pen.
Oh, hallelujah, man it’s good!It’s awesome! You should try it, dude!Forgotten how to laugh? It’s coolNow writing is your laughing tool.
Some Words that Wrote ThemselvesDrake Parker
Writers’ Club at Grand Valley State University con-sists largely of student writers who do not study writing professionally. It is a designated time and place for students to convene once a week to discuss their writing and develop ideas. All genres are welcome at Writers’ Club, including poetry, fiction, non-fiction and drama.
Join Writers’ Club
In winter 2009, we printed our first publication in many years, titled Don’t Open This. In winter of 2010, the first publication of Running Out of Ink was released and in fall 2010 Running Out of Ink was published again with the intention of making it a bi-annual pub-lication to be released both fall and winter semesters. Submissions from both members and non-members are accepted and considered for publication.
About this Publication
Offi cersHannah MoeggenborgBrian HudsonDrake ParkerRaine GerskyTheresa JohnstoneDr. Sean Prentiss
