RedShift Volume 6 Issue 1

Dear reaDers,

Welcome to the Fall 2011 eDition oF reDshiFt. For those oF you Who have never pickeD up a reDshiFt beFore, let me tell you a little about What We Do.

every semester, We collect creative submissions From stuDents anD Faculty to publish in the magazine. these submissions incluDe any sort oF art that can be printeD: poems, short stories, photographs, paintings, DraWings, etc. the submission oF these Works is encourageD During our various events throughout the semester. these events consist oF Fun activities that bring stuDents together to ex-press their creative talents.

i have been involveD With reDshiFt For Five semesters noW anD no matter hoW many times i go through this process, i alWays Forget hoW much Work it is. there is alWays a point Where i Feel overWhelmeD anD unsure iF our events Will go smoothly or iF the magazine Will be completeD on time. every semes-ter i Worry anD every semester my Worrying is For nothing. For time aFter time this DeDicateD group oF people goes above anD beyonD to accomplish all oF our goals anD more. each magazine We Develop is a neW learning experience that We use to make reDshiFt the best it can be.

i am a senior noW anD am in the process oF FinDing a job. During every job intervieW i go on, no matter the job Description, i alWays FinD time to talk about reDshiFt. every semester With this group, i learn something neW about leaDership, team Work, anD liFe in general. reDshiFt is easily one oF my greatest experiences anD accomplishments at stevens anD i Will carry the skills i have learneD With me into the next chapter oF my liFe.

beFore i let you explore the printeD talents on these pages, there are some people i neeD to thank. i WoulD like to thank the stevens Writing anD communications center For assisting in the Writing eDit-ing For this magazine. i Want to thank our Faculty aDvisor, holly nelson, For being there to help us every step oF the Way. i WoulD like to thank the reDshiFt team For taking time out oF their busy scheDules to pull all oF this together every semester. anD most importantly, i Want to thank the stuDents at stevens Who have submitteD their creative Works For us to print this semester. their De-sire to express their artistic talents is What keeps us Working For every magazine.

last but not least, i Want to thank you, the reaDer, For picking up this reDshiFt. i hope that reaD-ing this magazine Will Delight anD inspire you to explore your artistic talents. We all have them.

enjoy!katelyn sapio

eDitor in chieF

LETTER EDITORLETTER EDITORFROM THEFROM THE

1REDSHIFT creativemagazine

TABLE CONTENTSOF

I AM DAMICO Michael Forenza.........................................CoverCabana Sofia Oom.........................................................3Greedy Alan Aine...........................................................4Roadless Teja Jonnalagadda.............................................4A Rippled Reflection Uliana Dorogokupets..........................................4Venezia Kendra Appleheimer............................................5The Sky’s The Limit Alyssa Kilayko.....................................................6Butterfly Melissa Wiegand................................................6A Midnight Summer Play Gerardo Santacruz.............................................7Nas Sofia Oom.........................................................8Happily Ever After Julian Sexton.....................................................9Cumberland Falls Melissa Wiegand................................................9Circumpolar Bluet Damselfly Katelyn Masone..................................................934th Sofia Oom.........................................................9Extension Turn Alan Aine.........................................................10Grand Prismatic Spring Katelyn Masone................................................11In God We Trust Shaun Anyi......................................................12An Arrow of Decision Julian Sexton....................................................12Hunt Julian Sexton....................................................13Kimberlly in the Distance Alan Aine.........................................................13Mainstream Howie Allen......................................................14Flower Nick Bowman...................................................14I’ve Seen Chaz Featherstone...........................................15

Latern on the Night Shaun Anyi....................................................15Love is a Heavenly Bliss Anuja Shah....................................................16The Path to the Sea Nicole Franks..................................................16The Fly Julian Sexton..................................................17Petals Girish Keshav..................................................17Something About Mary Steve Walter...................................................17The Queen Joseph Lee Mangiafico...................................17A Different Perspective Alyssa Kilayko..................................................18Sunset with Caretta Carettas Mine Bese......................................................18Anxiety Alan Aine.......................................................18Lighting Strike Victor Lipnicki.................................................19Catwalk Sofia Oom.....................................................19Roomates Michael Forenza.............................................20Picture Perfect Beauty Dillon Zahler...................................................20Living Diana Fournie.................................................21So Happy I Could Die Joseph Lee Mangiafico...................................22Retrospection Alan Aine.......................................................23Death and Dying Ryan Werner...................................................24Welcome Emily Brandsdorfer..........................................24Speed of Light Emily Brandsdorfer..........................................24The Dancing Lady Shaun Anyi....................................................25Shore Serenity Dillon Zahler.........................................................26NYC Skyline at Night Shaun Anyi...........................................................26

TABLE CONTENTSOF

REDSHIFT creativemagazine 2

Dancing Fingers Shaun Anyi.............................................................27Manhattan Sofia Oom..............................................................27Broken Windows Andrew Turnage......................................................28Vita Rose Joseph Lee Mangiafico...........................................29Wonderland Joseph Lee Mangiafico...........................................30Colorado Love Dillon Zahler...........................................................30A Rippled Reflection Vliana Dorogo Kupets..............................................31Bottle Duck Girish Keshav..........................................................31Capitol Building Washington DC Girish Keshav..........................................................32Motion Shaun Anyi.............................................................32Wolverine vs Venom Michael Forenza.....................................................33Memory Ian Tyger.................................................................33The Song Goes On Rob May.................................................................34Beautiful Sun for a Beautiful Day Dan Tomassi...........................................................34Peace at Last Dillon Zahler...........................................................34The Light Comes Late Halie Holmes...........................................................35Affected Teja Jonnalogadda.................................................35Skyscraper at Chicago Sonia Mantzourido-Onasi........................................35Observer Stephen Prybolsky...................................................36Shining Through Vliana Dorogo Kupets..............................................36Ashokan Victor Lipnicki..........................................................37The Endless Walk in Patara Mine Bese..............................................................37Lycian Sunset Mine Bese..............................................................37

Caerphilly Castle` Cecilia Osterman.................................................38Who Are You? Howie Allen.........................................................38White Stairs in Katekay Mine Bese..........................................................39Endless Journey Alyssa Kilayko.......................................................39Life Support James Varbanov..................................................40The Late Night Buzz Joel Oquendo.....................................................41Sunset Over the Pier Shaun Anyi.........................................................41Big Pink Flower Victor Lipnicki......................................................42Time Stops for No One Alyssa Kilayko.......................................................42Apprehension Teja Jonnalogadda.............................................43The Drop Off Teja Jonnalogadda.............................................44A Faulkner Moment Teja Jonnalogadda.............................................44Untitled Sonia Mantzourido-Onasi....................................44Effects of Alcohol Anuja Shah........................................................44Ultimate Happiness Jackson Kelly.......................................................45

Fall 2011 Production Staff

Executive Board:Editor in Chief - Katelyn SapioManaging Editor - James VarbanovPublisher - Tariq MirzaArchivist - Rob RanalliTreasurer - Danny Argueta

Minor Board:Head of Layout - Mine BeseHead of Layout Elect - Stephen VargasChief Artistic Editor - Emily BrandsdorferChief Writing Editor - Halie Holmes

“We would like to thank the writing center for assistance in editing written submissions for the magazine”

TABLE OF CONTENTScont’d...

All work printed in this magazine is copyright of the respective artist.The views expressed in this magazine are not necessarily those held by the Executive Board, members of RedShift, or Stevens Institute of Technology.RedShift is named after a poem by Ted Berrigan, who spent part of his illustrious career teaching at Stevens Institute of Technology.


cabanaby soFia oom


1.Greedy by Alan Aine | 2.Roadless by Teja Jonnalagadda | 3. A Rippled Reflection by Uliana Dorogokupets

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veneziaby kenDra appleheimer


1.The Sky’s the Limit by Alyssa Kilayko / 2.Butterfly by Melissa Wiegand

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“YOU GOTTA BELEEB MEH!!”

So began the after show, which wasn’t quite a show, but should be called one for consistency, after seeing an actual play in the DeBaun Theater. The scenes were rather similar too: one of the comedic acts consisted of women complaining about their husbands (or eventual lack thereof ), and the improvised street scene showed girls complaining to and about their boyfriends (or just plain lack thereof ). The accent was actually better for the female lead in the improvised show, though one would sup-pose alcohol was not a fair advantage—some might consider it the theater equivalent of performance enhancement drugs. Either way, my own female interest, Jessie, sitting on a cold bench adjacent to me in a damp park, enjoying the scene rather well, but enjoying a cheeseburger more so, must’ve agreed with me on the accent, since she laughed out about a dollar’s worth of meat and cheese as a sign of approval for the poor barely-twenty-one-year-old adventurer’s pleas to heaven about this lie or that (all related to sex, of course) to her boyfriend, whom we kindly named Prince Charming. I mimicked the blubbery tone to a pretty decent degree of accuracy, judging from how quickly my girlfriend spat another fifty cents worth of Arizona iced tea to compliment her first review.

Sad, I thought, you just might be in her shoes, give or take a few years (or months). I pondered how she might look in the drunken princess’ shoes, half collapsed on the steps of a bus for disabled and senior citizens. Nay, I thought. She wouldn’t have the temper to hold all that Bacardi in her. Then again, a devil inside me smirked at the thought of playing Prince Charm-ing’s part in such a play (worthy of Arthur Miller). No, thought I, the deluded girl’s suitor had tons of more patience. And what a shame it was for me, who attended a college that glorifies performing feats of calculus while reading Oscar Wilde. But that’s the fundamental law of economics: there is no such thing as a free lunch.

We strolled along River St, gazing at the briskly clad passerby’s—some with exotic poodles (or maybe it was their haircuts), oth-ers with equally exotic romantic partners (again, haircuts, though the general attire was rather . . .), and still others plain with grey or brown sweaters, on a cool September night. We reached an intersection, not a block away from the train terminal, and yet quite possibly the least developed area of the town. Cobblestones dominated the floor, in patterns that didn’t quite fit, and in colors that, well, weren’t quite colors; ditto the motley crowds that crisscrossed each corner, like schools of fish searching for a cave. But they weren’t searching and neither were we. Longing to prolong the night (redundancy seems to be an axiom of anything human), we skirted around the terminal, dodging the quasi-groups of not-so-young yuppies, and perched our behinds along a railing, starting to chat about nothing. Successful, I surmised, as the night’s events filled my mind’s screen.

Along came a pair of wanderers, removed from the jet stream of cotton and stilettos. Clad with tattered coats, misshaped hats, and what I perceived to be a dark bottle, they meandered along the chaotic currents and smashed into the railing, not three feet away from myself.

“JUSA GOTTA BELEEVEH MEH”, ranted one of the scant pair, brandishing the hat (maybe it was a bowler back in the day, I thought), whilst the other retorted with head shakes and swigs from the black glass. Jessie, being an artist at heart, appreciat-ing the rarity of genuine déjà vu, let out a guffaw (along with the last twenty cents of Arizona tea I had spent on her). As a line keeper hesitates his call when a soccer player kicks the ball, watching it fall at the mercy of gravity and ravenous men waiting on the ground, so I warily observed our improvised actors grind their debate (something about Obama) to a halt, and quickly iron us with inquiries. Out of sheer boredom (on a Saturday night date?), I indulged them, while Jessie, more cautious this time, cowered behind me.

To take the soccer analogy further, they say one can only arbitrate effectively if one is not involved in the game. Being a skeptic and an engineering school student, of course this was Greek language to a five year old. The irony is that most of my arguments actually used Greek symbols.

With as much effectiveness as the previous actor (the gallant Prince) I managed to calm my audience, resulting in a dousing of Tennessee Bourbon whiskey all over my otherwise rosy sweater (better than vomit). My female acquaintance, sensing the crash between the “stage” and mundane reality, yanked my sleeve, as I had just propelled my arm at the fellow

by gerarDo santacruz

a miDnight summer play


Nas by Sofia Oom

debater’s face. But in the process, my fist met the black vial, and more precious elixir flew. Both of our guests roared.

There was, in a matter of seconds, an explosion of flickering chips and blips, exploding from the interactions of con-verse sneakers and twentieth century bricks. Even the herds of sleepy workaholics noticed their own pervasive vibrations (like something you’d here from a fifteen-year-old experimenting with a bass guitar) being disturbed by the high tempo of our own melody.

And here I confess that even Nietzsche, that ardent hater of the crowds, would no doubt thank his dead God that crowds did exist, for they allowed our pursuers to lose track of us and drag until their drunken reverie allowed them to focus no more (and perhaps the presence of machine guns and soldiers diverted their fervor, as well).

And thus it was that, from the warm seat in an old, Victorian playhouse (or at least it pretended to be one), we floated onto a cold, damp bench, and, perhaps karma sensing our innate desire to live some bizarre fantasy, ended up, smelling of ethanol, zipping through crowds of sophisticated grey and brown skirts, until reaching another dark railing, curving against the concrete, as if afraid of the toxicity of the water below (I admit, it does look disgusting). Our beat had ended; our breaths lagged behind our steps, as we huddled closely against a silvery wind. Slowly our conversation returned as a soft chant of incomplete phrases and exhausted breaths (we made pitiable actors, it was clear).

Smells of raspberry tea, sour whiskey, along with a New York City view blocked by pollution—not exactly my typical end-ing. But this was fine, since we were both non-conformists. And, realizing destiny had prodded us unto the climax (or at least I did), a sweaty embrace smoothed into a gentle, piping kiss, mingling odors and thoughts. Behind, solitary wanderers swept past the dusty air, each holding down a hat, a pair of glasses, or a Blackberry. All seemed grey and sad.

Later, as a door opened, and my bag fell upon vibrant tan fibers, my head met the force of a juggernaut’s arm, full of hair and chaffed skin. Just as Prince Charming staggered after his princess vomited, so I, tripped upon a radiator, half asleep and half wondering about CAL-105 homework.

“Jack Daniels, eh?”

“NAH, YOU GOTTA BELIEVE ME!”

by soFia oomnas


At times it may feelAs though nothing is right.Only struggles await;There’s no hope left in sight.

Nothing remainsTo turn that frown into a smile,Get rid of all the troubles,And make life seem worthwhile.

It is in this momentThat your heart should open it’s eyes,And tell your mindTo stop believing these lies.

Because in your lifeYou have something so dear:A special someoneTo erase all your fears.

To bring back that smileThat joy, that laughter;And embellish your lifeWith “H.a.p.p.i.l.y. E.v.e.r. A.f.t.e.r.”

1.Happily Ever After by Julian Sexton / 2.Cumberland Falls by Melissa Wiegand / 3.Circumpolar Bluet Damselfly by Katelyn Masone / 4.34th by Sofia Oom

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by alan aine

extension turn


by katelyn masone

granD prismatic spring


When the world crashes around,Stand, stand tall!Listen for one sound, any sound,But perhaps there is none at all.If the world has befallen you, and no sound remains,Then you have conquered!You are free from your pains!And should when you listen, you see, you perceive,you take in some sound, some light, some love,then you must decide, to fight or to grieve.To fight for its riddance, attack from above!But grieve of its riddance, the destruction of love!To fight for its safety, to carry its ward,but grieve that forever you are bound to its guard!An arrow of darkness should split left and rightOne path or the other, there is no way to fight!

You can hardly choose two, without splitting your mind,like fighting a frontal attack from behind!You’ll lose all your bearing if you’re unable to choose,If you wait for its piercing, your whole life you’ll lose!Reach an arm out in front and push to the sideBut push right or left, this can’t help you decide!The arrow will turn, this much is true,But which way it turns, is all up to you!But could you not stand and face the power you lack?Go; catch the arrow, and then throw it back.

IN GOD WE TRUSTby shaun anyi

AN ARROW OF DECISIONby julian sexton


Today I have killed, murdered, slain.An insurmountable wall of paininflicted on another beingall the while that it was fleeingthough my heart was not agreeing,my last blow was surely freeingthis unfortunate being from its strifeby the taking of its life.

A hunter’s mind, was all awareNot a single fleeting hairnor creaking of a broken stairshould escape said hunter’s glare.Such mad tension in the air with his self just standing there,Waiting, watching, full prepared,like a dragon in his lair.

I sought death, naught less nor morenothing but a horrid goreAs across the room I tore;Just a single uttered roar.

When he dropped onto the floor.Breathless. Lifeless. Dead.

And me, a killer.

HUNTby julian sexton

KIMBERLLY IN THE DISTANCEby alan aine


I’d be lying if I said I’d knownThe Flower that knew my stareWould turn so dry so cold

Flower gone and deadYou let them crawl in your bedBut now you’re back so go aheadAnd rip my heart out again

Your roots must be of steelYou make me lose all my mealsAnd still you smile so go aheadAnd rip my heart out again


You waitedFor so long

Now he’s half the manYou used to know


No ConsequenceHer pesticide waits for youHe shrivels like a little worm

You call yourselves a gardenBut your can is empty now, there’s a droughtThe seeds will both lose their way

1.Mainstream by Howie Allen / 2.Flower lyrics by Nick Bowman

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I’ve seen…I’ve been high and I’ve been lowI’ve gone fast and I’ve gone slowI’ve loved and I’ve hatedI’ve blurred and I’ve fadedI’ve dreamt the impossible dreamI’ve defeated the unbeatable teamI’ve been blessed and I’ve been cursedI’ve rode in a chariot and in the back of a hearseI’ve eaten from a silver spoonAnd drunk from the Holy Grail.I’ve been fresh and I’ve been staleI’ve seen the strongest at their weakestThe bravest at their shyestAnd the richest at their poorestI’ve seen God weepAnd I’ve seen the restless sleepI’ve seen leaders fallAnd nobodies riseI’ve seen quitters win

And immortals dieI’ve seen a cloudless sky rainAnd the intricate so plainI’ve seen the pain be numbedAnd the smart be dumbedI’ve seen the ultimate fatalityAnd the fakest realityI’ve gone through heaven and hellBut never fellI’ve seen the mute screamThe blind seeThe deaf hearAnd the numb feelI’ve seen what everything meansFrom day one to day blankI’ve seen the thoughtless thankAnd the nicest meanI’ve seen blue be greenAnd dirty cleanI’ve seen what everything meansAnd I’ve seen everything in between.

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1.I’ve Seen by Chaz Featherstone / 2.Latern On the Night Sky by Shaun Anyi

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love is a heavenly bliss

by anuja shah

the path to the sea

by nicole Franks

You picked me up and wrapped me In a warm blanket of loveYou swept me up and dusted off Webs of hurts inside.

You gave me warmthYou sheltered meFrom life’s stormy skiesNow I live in a safe home where love abides.

You held me tightWhere there was darknessYou gave me lightNow the world seems bright.

In the place where love abidesYou showered me with kissesSaw through my heart to loveChased away the darknessWith unconditional love.

Together we dwell foreverIn the place where love abidesSilver streaks of moonlight shine in your eyesThe sun rises in your eyes, my Darling.

When you dream of holding the moonI catch it and bring it to youWrapped in red-watery rose petals I lay red roses for your feet to walk on.

I see your face on every moonrise Your face is on every sunrise My shonkudi, I can never count the ways I love you Your eyes sparkle like diamond

Your smile brightens my days like the sun Love of my life Sunshine of my morning Moonlight of my nights.

I want to remember when our soulsWere entwined into one spiritI remember the soft touch of your breastAnd the heavenly bliss into which I soared.

I think of you as we explore passions of loveSo hot that fires rage within our souls.I remember as we touched each otherIn ways that only true lovers can.

The passions that lift our souls into the heavensWill live forever in our heartsOur hearts will soar higherThan the highest mountain!Yes and even higher than the eagle.

Our quest for love has given peaceWithin our hearts and tranquility never dreamedOur love will satisfy our deepest desiresAnd our hearts will melt into one.

Let us remember the lust of our fleshIs the lust of our heart and soul,For when we are as oneThen our spirits shall soar withinThe heavens and only peace can dwell within our souls.


You pierce my heartevery time your lips part,and form into a smile.I look into your eyesand forget who I am,escaping the vanities of the world,all because of this girl. This girl, whose beautiful fingers fit perfectly between mine.That safe feeling is now trapped in my mind.When I wrap my arms around you,I hope you feel my heart thump,as it tries to reach outand connect with yours.I wish to God that I canconnect with yours,and live in these timeless moments,that are making my life amazing.

A fly stays with mefor a long part of its life.Perhaps, I am touched.Green out, yet pale in;a way open for exitBut it chooses me.Never sleep; nor rest;Just hover endlessly hereIs it even sane?Maybe it is not.But why, then, does it remain?Has it no instinct?The exits are there!But it stays; no friends; no world;except me, til death.

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by nicole Franks 3.Queen by Joe Mangiafico / 4.Something About Mary by Steve Walter1.The Fly by Julian Sexton /2.Petals by Girish Keshav /


1.A Different Perspective by Alyssa Kilayko / 2.Sunset With Caretta Carettas by Mine Bese / 3.Anxiety by Alan Aine

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1.Lightning Strike by Victor Lipnicki / 2.Catwalk by Sofia Oom

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roommates

by michael Forenza

picture perFect beauty

by Dillon zahler


I hear Jenner let out a sigh of exasperation. “Did you hear a word I just said?” he asks.

I shake my head absently, still staring at the girl. We arrived at the hospital with her just a few minutes ago, and now she is lying on a bed in the ER, staring vacantly ahead. I haven’t been able to tear my eyes off of her since we picked her up. Looking at her is like looking at a reflection of myself from two years ago, when I had just been released from the Kima, and it gives me an odd, detached sense of déjà vu.

I feel someone touch me on the shoulder and whirl to see who it is, startled, but it’s only Jenner. Of course it’s only Jenner. “Sorry,” he says. “You weren’t listening again. I said, do you want to stay with her, or should I?”

“No, it’s all right, I’ll stay. You go take care of the stretcher.”

He leaves, and I am alone in the room with her. Neither of us speaks. I am burning to comfort her somehow, but I don’t know what to do. I just know that I will regret it forever if I do nothing. I try to remember how I felt when I had just woken up in the hospital, so long ago, and suddenly I know what to say.

I put my hand over hers. She flinches from the sudden contact, then settles, slowly, warily. She looks into my eyes, her expression inscrutable.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “This is real. I promise.” I could have used someone to tell me that, once upon a time, when I was still half-convinced that any minute Divad’s men would come marching in to send me back to hell. That thought – more than any of my injuries – had sapped my strength and replaced it with apathy, at least until I finally learned that I had been pardoned, or acquitted, or something along those lines. All that had mattered to me was that I would never have to go back.

Never.

The girl doesn’t know whether or not to believe me; I can see it in her eyes. She squeezes my hand, to make sure that I am tangible, not a mere figment of her imagination. I remember this, too, the obsessive need to touch things, assuring myself that they were really there and not merely some delusion that my mind had come up with to escape.

She is still not entirely convinced. “How can you be sure?” For a second, she seems suspicious, but then she squeezes my hand again. This mollifies her, at least for the moment.

“If this was a dream, life wouldn’t be so hard afterwards.” Slowly, I unbutton the cuffs of my sleeves and roll them up slightly, revealing scars they normally keep hidden. The bands of scar tissue around my wrists are stark against my pale skin, though by now they have faded somewhat. She glances down at her own bandaged wrists, then reaches out and touches my scars, ever so gently, and this time I am the one who flinches away.

“It’s still hard,” I sigh. “Some days I feel like it’s harder out here than it was in there.” The room falls silent again, except for the steady beeping of her heart monitor. I watch the rhythm for a moment: it is slower than it should be, but strong and even. A good sign.

There is something more I need to tell her, but I can’t seem to find the words for it.

Then I remember something Dr. Ket said to me once, after I had finally been released from the hospital. I was try-ing to adjust to life as usual again – and failing miserably. I no longer had any sort of routine to follow, nothing to

by Diana Fournie

living


do with my time. After having spent so long being told what to do and when to do it, there had been nothing. It had left me with all the time in the world to sit and think, which was exactly what I didn’t need. If it hadn’t been for Dr. Ket, I’m not sure I would have gotten through it.

But I did. And that’s what matters now.

“You lived through it,” I tell her. “You were strong enough to live through it. Don’t let life be the thing that beats you. You lived through the Kima; you can damn well live through life.” This is the gist of it, but it still has not quite been said. “You need to learn how to live life again.” I am still not satisfied, and I lapse into frustrated silence, restless to get my message across before a doctor shows up to see her. I will lose my nerve to speak if there is someone else in the room.

“Who will care?” Her voice cuts through the silence like a knife. She looks at me accusingly. “Who do I have left?” She sounds so hopeless.

I don’t even think before responding. “You have me,” I say. “I care.” I say it more fiercely than I intended to, and I am surprised to find just how much I mean it. There is a burning intensity behind my words that I haven’t felt in a long time. I will visit her, talk to her, every single day if I need to.

I jump away from her bed as the doctor walks into the room, feeling as though I’ve been caught doing something wrong. I give the doctor my report as quickly as possible, wanting nothing more than to leave. But before I slip out the door, I catch the girl’s eye.

I care.

by joseph lee mangiaFico

so happy i coulD Die

living (cont.)


by alan aine

retrospection


by emily branDsDorFer

speeD oF lightby ryan Werner

Death anD Dying

An era of disastrous decisionsLike a grassy green plain before meExpansive and AdventurousI will no longer hold backI will runRun from youI am doneDone living for you

This is the startThe start to something betterA change in powerAnd a way of lifeA startWithout you

Thank you

To an eraAn age you createdAn empty shell of a personOf no more compassionOf no more caringUnforgiving, Unattached

How long did you think this would last?That I would bend to your every whimGive in to your every needAbsorb every punch And be willing to be cast asideReceive nothing back

This is the endAnd expiration to the loveI shared with youThis is the beginning ofCold hardStone

I hope This is what you wantedWhat You wanted thisTo become

by emily branDsDorFerWelcome

The Sun comes upAnd goes downPerfect clockworkAs the moon glowsAgainst a black blanketWith the tiniest wholes

There is never a blimpThe celestial objectsRise and Fall awayDetermining the length of our daysAnd lives

I gaze upThe moon shinningBut I’m tired of listeningTired of following this all tooPredictable pathI no longer want to do this in orderInstead take a new pace

Of everythingAt onceDay - NightBreathing - DyingLiving Fast

So that my life becomes a Stream of consciousnessFlowing quicklyLike a rapid currentCarrying a broken logOver a waterfallTo its shatteringEnd

I want to live life with its thrillsBalancing on the edge ofSanityNo longer held down by things that don’t matterNo longer dictated by the course and structureOf the every day


by shaun anyi

the Dancing laDy


1.Shore Serenity by Dillon Zahler / 2.NYC Skyline at Night by Shaun Anyi

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1.Dancing Fingers by Shaun Anyi / 2.Manhattan by Sofia Oom

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A broken down supermarket stands before you. Shattered window panes and broken down shopping carts litter the front of the store. You look down at the cracked asphalt parking lot and wonder what this place once looked like. Full of families, children riding on the front of the carts, laughing as their parents pushed them forward. Cars moving about the black surface, inevitably one colliding into another. You crack a smile as you picture the angry drivers screaming at one another. Such a human thought.

The front door is already smashed. You slip through the door frame, carefully avoiding the jagged edges of the broken window. You remember how the doors used to open on their own. Happily they would slide open, allowing your entry or exit into or out of the domain which they protected. No door opens anymore, not without prompting at least.

The search begins as soon as you cross the threshold. Food, where is it? The sustenance on which you rely upon to survive is becoming so very difficult to find now. Even water, a compound that had once caused wars and genocides, is easier to find than food. You think back to the days where you could find food anywhere. In stores it was abundant, in homes it was everywhere, in the streets it was even a common thing to find.

You wander around the aisles, hoping and praying that you will find something. You grimly look down at your body and wonder how badly your muscles have atrophied due to the malnutrition that you have been experiencing. The first few months after the event had been the easiest. Food had been plentiful still, but poor rationing and hoarding by others had caused a shortage which had led to the world’s current lack of this so very important commodity.

A dripping sound. You turn your head and look around. What is that? You slowly approach the sound, wondering what it is. Drip, you search around looking. Drip, what is it? Drip, the sound is driving you mad! Drip, you stumble on an over-turned shelf. Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip…

You look away from the source of the sound and start walking. The body hangs there, fluttering in the breeze. Water drips from the man’s left foot, reverberating throughout the store.

The sight of the hanging man brings back memories of an event that seemed to have occurred so very long ago. Tears come to your eyes as it fills your head once again. You remember the way that the shirt had moved around in the wind. You remember the slight bend in the ankles as the feet dangled below her. You see her hair being lifted by the breeze. Gently her body revolved around on the spot, her head bent to the side, a blank look set upon her face. You feel the despair fill your chest. An empty feeling begins to take command of your body. Sorrow fills your thoughts. Sadness controls you, making you feel even more alone in this desolate land.

She had been your best friend, a companion in the days immediately following that tragic hour. She had been what kept you moving. A friend in a world filled with enemies and strangers. She had been your reason for living then. An angel sent to protect you from the hatred and fear that had seized the land.

She had hanged herself in the night. You had woken up alone and confused. The two of you had agreed to never leave the other and her being away had scared you. You were alone, where had she gone? The fear that took over your mind in that moment had been devastating. You had known upon waking what had happened to her. You felt it within your very being. The pervading feeling of loneliness had not come from nowhere, there had been a cause and your subconscious in-stinctively knew what she had done while you slept. It had acknowledged her leaving as you dreamt. It had heard the swoosh as her body fell. It had registered the breaking of her neck.

You gasp, pain, so much pain. You cannot bear to think about this anymore. Her hanging form is visible to your eyes. You see her, you see her, you see her. She is there. Hanging, she is there. A specter floats before you, reminding you of so ter-rible a thing. Dead, she’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead, God dammit she is dead! The emptiness fills your body now, perme-ating from every cell and atom that comprises you. She killed herself because she could no longer take the loneliness, the hopelessness, the sadness that fills everything now and then.

You live to keep her memory alive. She had been your hope, your angel, your salvation. She had kept you from quit-

Broken Windows by Andrew Turnageby anDreW turnage

broken WinDoWs


ting and giving up. Live like a clock, that had been something that she had ingrained into your very being. She was the reason for your continued existence. Surely you would have not survived those first few weeks if she had not been there. She had been your light.

She had told you to live and to carry on. The human race needed hope and she said that it could be found in all of us. Hope is in all of us, remember that, remember that please. Even when things are at their worst keep moving forward. Never stop trying and surviving, there is always a happy ending. You remember her words. So hopeful.

You will keep living for her, if nothing else. She had made a mistake that you knew could not be repeated. In order to honor her you would keep travelling forward. Progress had to be made somehow. Perhaps it was you who would find the happy ending that she had talked about.

Something warm is rushing down your arm. You look down and see the crimson stream flowing from a cut upon your bicep. Bleeding. You watch in grim amazement as the liquid moves down your arm and drips from your fingers. Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip…

Ripping off a piece of cloth from an extra shirt that you have, you cover the wound; you can do little for the drying blood that is coating your forearm and hand though. You are dirty and tainted. You are miserable and wretched. You are hopeless.

Without a sound you continue to look for food. You leave the store with two cans of fruit and three cans of vegetables. It had been a good discovery and you walk away from the market in higher spirits. Your stomach growls and you contemplate the meal that would occur that night. A smile graces your lips as you stalk off into the city proper, disap-pearing amongst the broken down cars and buildings, dust floating lazily in the wind around you, creating a haze that prevents your looking forward.

by joseph lee mangiaFicovita rose


1.Wonderland by Joseph Lee Mangiafico / 2.Colorado Love by Dillon Zahler

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2

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1.A Rippled Reflection by Uliana Dorogokupets / 2.Bottle Duck by Girish Keshav

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1.Capital Building Washington DC by Girish Keshav / 2.Motion by Shaun Anyi

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by michael Forenza

Wolverine vs venom

by ian tyger

memory


It’s a breezy fall day, and themusic says to play a C#maj9 but there is an error, there must be because it says ∞instead of the usual and ∞ maybe the eight just fell over or maybe it was a typo but hang on, there’s an infinite repeat of the same two C# and F# chords, and the music goes on after that, but when do I go on I don’t under-stand,now it says to hold a note forever can I take my foot off of the pedal now I can’t the chord it rings out, it rings out it rings out and it keeps go-ingas the world spirals down around it and the frequencies explode togetherand it’s beautiful, it really is and I see it nowbecause always, somewhere, from and to infinity, the song goes on the s∞ng goes on the song g∞es on the song goes ∞n the song goes on… ∞

1.Beautiful Sun for a Beautiful Day by Dan Tomassi / 2.Peace at Last by Dillon Zahler

by rob may

the song goes on

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1


It is because I’ve seen your love,And felt the outskirts of the warmth it offers,That I know I can feel it With the same lustAs you.

To encompass such affectionFor life and its many facetsIs pure joy; as is aLife, lived with fervor, And like, loved with enthusiasm.

It is because I’ve seen your expressionThat the bodies thatI hosted for so long within my ownWere withdrawn from circulationAnd I experience calm.

And what of the old me, Trudging along for years ofImperceptible vacancy?It gracefully acknowledgesIts life of achievements.

It is because I’ve seen the interpretationsOf my victories slip away, and“I’m afraid of what I won’t get back”That I must move forwardFrom the burdens of my person.

I have done my love an injusticeBy trading my apparent substanceAnd well-deserved Admiration of othersFor my new approach to life.

I have seen these foreign bodies ensureThat my daily functions are a daily fight, And what I know how to do is fight,Whether it be myselfOr for myself.

Because I see the lightI’ve provided myselfFor so long,And so many,I have faith.

1.Affected by Teja Jonnalagadda /2.Skyscraper at Chicago by Sonia Mantzourido-Onasi

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by halie holmes

the light comes late

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1.Observer by Stephen Prybolsky / 2.Shining Through by Uliana Dorogokupets

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1.Ashokan by Victor Lipnicki / 2.The Endless Walk in Patara by Mine Bese 3.Lycian Sunset by Mine Bese

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Are you the clothes you wear,the people you meet,or the way you look?

Are you the jokes you tell,the smiles you steal,the laughter you share?

Are you the money you make,the job you have,the length of your re-sume?

Are you your gpa,the classes you take,the things you learn?

Or are you something more?

Are you the dorm you live in,the floor you’re on,the state you’re from?

Or are you a simpler, softer something?a touch of fingers to fin-gers,a brush of lips,a gleam in the eye?

We are our actions.We are the people we know.We are what we believe we are.And I believe that you read poetry.

Who are you? by hoWie allen

caerphilly castle

by cecilia osterman


1.White Stairs in Kalekoy by Mine Bese /2.Endless Journey by Alyssa Kilayko

by hoWie allen

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Life Support by James Varbanovby james varbanov

liFe support


1.The Late Night Buzz by Joel Oquendo / 2.Sunset Over the Pier by Shaun Anyi

You’ll never feel the same You have the confidence of a million dollar man Can I tell you how I feel?Cause I’m going to anyway You’re beautiful You’re the best girl I’ve ever known Do I want to be with you?Yes. Do you want to be with me?No. Not now anywayI want to wait for you I want to be in your life until you’re ready I promise I won’t be emotional I’m knocking on the front door now, ready To say what I want to say I’m finally confident enough to let you know what I think I will wait for you I will fight for you

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I will do anything for you If you just want to have fun Have fun with me because I care about you No titles No commitment I promise I will not become clingy I will be the man you want me to be Because that’s the man I want to be I want to be what you needLet’s keep it physicalI am standing on your front porch, waiting And I am finally confident enough to tell you I want everything you want And I will be everything you want me to beYou are worth every single minute I have to wait For you to be with me I am finally confident enough to tell you You’re worth everything…

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1.Big Pink Flower by Victor Lipnicki / 2.Time Stops for No One by Alyssa Kilayko

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apprehension

by teja jonnalagaDDa

I like her so. The reason why eludes me though

Maybe it’s her smile, maybe her laugh. It’s the way she makes me feel, the smile on my face

I like her for who she is -Very sweet, Very smart, Very cute, Always true

My nerves chain me in self doubt. I am mute when she’s in my grasp

I was never a wordsmith, never smooth.

Regardless of the fact, my brain I have racked

To find the words to speak the love I possess in my heart

The heart is bold and jovial; yet the brain is wise and old, marred by experience

As I said before hope propels one forward when experience holds one back

As long as love survives so does its counterpart, hope

But have I fallen in love or in like? What is the difference, what is more?

Regardless of either, her memory won’t leave my thoughts

The predilection is not fair. I am no closer to your affection than Icarus was closer to the sun.

Even so, the sun could not compare because it is not the moon that eclipses the sun, it is your

Beauty that shines brighter than a thousand more.

Like or love, the power is not in the lover’s control

Once shot by love’s angel the battle is lost and love takes hold.

As the cause of so I would take any means to sway your heart.

One can dream.

Then again, as long as love is the cause hope can never fade.


1.The Drop Off by Teja Jonnalagadda / 2.A Faulkner Moment by Teja Jonnalagadda / 3.Untitled by Sonia Mantzourido-Onasi / 4.Effects of Alcohol by Anuja Shah

Waves in my head,Flowing, fluid life.Eyelids heavy;The sensation of connectingWith Earth, with music, andWith the spirits of the world.Asleep, dreamlike, and beautiful.The colors, beautiful.Relief exploding from theTop of my head,Time is slow and hasAlmost stopped.Drunken, I walkTowards nowhere,No destination I know about.I keep walking,Tossing, and turningNo clue of anything around.Dunno what’s happening.

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"Alright, sir," the soft female voice said. "It's just this way."

He walked behind her through the perfectly white halls, light from above reflecting off of the smooth sur-faces.

"You've lived a long life, searching long and hard. Now you can finally get your reward."

She stopped and turned around; they had reached the end of the hallway. Her eyes were the faintest of blue, brilliantly bright and strikingly beautiful. She smiled.

"Behind this door is happiness. Ultimate happiness. And you've earned a piece of it." She held out her hand, and in it was a small silver key.

The man looked at her open hand. He stared at her palm and the treasure upon it for what seemed like a long time before he finally spoke.

"I don't want it."

"What?" She blinked, clearly confused. "Sir, I don't think you understand. There are no tricks here. No scams. You've lived a long life in search of this, and you've earned it. This is your reward."

"I know." His voice was strikingly calm. "I understand you perfectly well. I just don't want it."

"Sir, I-"

"What would I do if I took that key from your hand and walked through that door?" His eyebrows danced far above his eyes, begging her to respond, but she didn't say anything. "Absolutely nothing. If I were to accept, I would no longer be looking. And if I stopped looking, I would have nothing to live for."

He turned away from her, from the key, the door, and the opportunity, and began walking away.

"But, sir, you-"

"It's not happiness that I've been searching for," he called backwards over his shoulder. "But the searching itself that has brought me happiness."

Ultimate Happiness by Jackson Kellyby jackson kelly

ultimate happiness

Documents

RedShift Volume 6 Issue 1