1. Spring 2012
BeanSwitch Staff
Executive Editors –
Misty Dunlap
Sheila Scott
Visual Editor –
Kalsey Stults
BeanSwitch
Supporting Cast -
Eli Anderson
Eric Brand
Dave Chambliss
Jonathan French
Rocky Holland
Zack Nabors
Jennifer Parrish
Madilyn Peay
Beth Reed
Lyndsay Riggs
Crystal Springer
Marah Vogt
Faculty Advisors -
Chris Hill –
BeanSwitch
Department of English and Modern Foreign Languages
Jeffery Longacre –
BeanSwitch
Spring 2012 Department of English and Modern Foreign Languages
Tomi McCutchen Parrish –
Fall 2012 Department of Communications

2. Art Table of Contents
Ballet Dancer Memori DePriest 1 Curious Aquarium Jocelyne Barchet 40
Mystic Moon Zachariah Dickson 3 Nighttime Melanie O’Neil 41
Not Ready to Leave Here Cody Speed 9 Gilt and Crystal at the Louvre Kara Kidwell 43
Tearfall Zachariah Dickson 11 Night Sky Dreamscape Jocelyne Barchet 45
Drops of Jupiter Cody Speed 13 Blackhole Sun Zach Johnson 46
Distant Places Bring Lonesome Faces Cody Michael Williams 15 Oil Alexandra Stover 48
The Calling Mary Jean Hall 16 Into the Dark Cody Speed 50
The Little Things Lauren Whitaker 19 The Companion Diane Shaw 54
Wish Right Now Cody Speed 20 Tilted, Twisted, and Worn Donna Hacker 57
Sadness Zachariah Dickson 23 Wonderland Zachariah Dickson 59
Gaze Alexandra Stover 26 Feather Stone Cody Speed 60
Tree Woman Cries Zachariah Dickson 24 Deadly Substance Jocelyne Barchet 69
Dance It All Away Beth Crocker 28 12:30 Aaron Burks 70
To be Unmeasured Cody Michael Williams 31 Timeless Kait Scott 73
Waterland Zachariah Dickson 33 Cover Art Cody Speed 74
Blooming with Hue Jocelyne Barchet 34
Another View of the Eiffel Tower Kara Kidwell 35
Abstract Painting Lauren Suiter 36
Center Melanie O’Neil 37
Wine Bottle Aaron Burks 38
Alone at Last Megan Schwab 39

3. Literary Table of Contents Ballet Dancer
Memori DePriest
The Wedding Dance Belinda Barker 2
The Visitors Sonny Taylor 4
These Shoes Belinda Barker 10
We Buried a Boy Today Belinda Barker 12
Benefits Brittney Reed 14
In God We Trust Ashley Burton 17
A Sideways Glance Kristin Brooks 21
Wonder Lust Rachel Hurst 25
Colorful Jami Miller 27
The All Powerful Hairy Hand Jonathan Lucas French 29
The Question Cody Jarman 32
Ephemera Brittney Reed 42
A Modern Pyramus and Thisbe Misty Dunlap 44
Rotting Teeth Rachel Hurst 47
The Gremlin of All Hallow’s Eve Eli Anderson 49
Should I Do This? Regan Ward 51
The Shakes Toshya Leonard 55
Family Photographs Belinda Barker 58
Road to Recovery Rocky Holland 61
Please, Professor Kathleen Alford 71
Graphite Pencils
11 x 14
Wanted to try a technique the class had done earlier in figure
drawing while it was fresh on my mind.
1

4. The Wedding Dance Mystic Moon
Belinda Barker Zachariah Dickson
the wedding dance
of dreams yet untold
a ballerina I am! grace
and beauty to behold
a dress of organza
or leather or lace
and the joy of completion ripe
on my face
my Papa in earnest
showing his prize
and me in his glory
reflecting his eyes
the wedding dance
of dreams now told
a woman I am! grace
and beauty to behold
Graphic Design
2170 x 2996 pixels
Capturing the eye of the viewer with the many aspects of the
night and provoking the same mystified emotion that one has
when looking at the moon.
2 3

5. “I thought my little brother was ugly when he was born, too. And he sure did
The Visitor annoy me. But, I loved him, and when he woke us up in the middle of the night
with his crying, I’d always try to help my parents get him back to sleep.”
Sonny Taylor The little girl wrinkles her nose, her pale lips turning downwards to form a
serious frown.
“I sure hope he don’t keep me up all night. I gotta go to school, ya know.”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to get plenty of sleep, sw--” The nurse’s response is cut
Sitting in the hospital waiting room, a little girl swings her legs slowly. Her
hands are braced on the semi-soft plastic of the chair cushion as she looks around off by the sudden voice booming in the air, the intercom speaker almost visibly
the sterile, dimly lit room with soft brown eyes. Hospitals are nothing new to this rattling from the sound. She lets out a startled sigh and stands quickly.
four-year-old, though for once she’s experiencing the waiting room as a visitor, “You be good now,” she calls as she rushes off, her shoes squeaking again, much
not a patient soon to be ushered back into a room. Still, the nurses are familiar to faster this time.
her. Her gaze halts its exploration of the off-white walls as the squeaking of shoes Nearly an hour later, a painfully long amount of time for the little girl, a doctor
reaches her ears. Glancing in that direction, she smiles hesitantly at the woman comes out and leads her back into a room. She skips along beside him happily,
walking towards her, a nurse she knows from her countless visits here. This her tiny legs working overtime to keep up with his long strides. Once in the room,
nurse, she remembers, is particularly gentle when drawing blood. the girl lets out a delighted cry of “Mommy!” before rushing towards the woman.
“Hi!” she chimes sweetly, giving the woman a delighted smile, revealing teeth She half climbs onto the bed, struggling slightly with its height, to plant a loud
that are just crooked enough to be charming, along with deep dimples. The nurse cherry scented kiss on the dark haired woman’s sweaty cheek. Then she freezes,
stops by the little girl’s chair, the squeaking of her typical white shoes coming to her brown eyes locking on the bundle in the baby bed next to her Mommy.
an abrupt halt. “Is that him?” she asks curiously, not looking away from the bundle to see her
“Hey, sweetie,” she answers warmly, her voice low and soothing. To the little mother’s smile.
girl, she sounds like what a nurse should sound like, comforting, gentle and “That’s him, alright. You have a little brother, possum britches. His name is
friendly. Reaching one calloused hand into the pocket of her hot pink scrubs, she Nathan,” the mother answers weakly, obviously more than a tad tired from the
pulls out a prized piece of candy for the girl, a small red lollipop wrapped in clear hours of labor.
plastic. Smiling, the girl takes the lollipop and opens it, popping it into her mouth The little girl hops off the bed and walks slowly over to the baby’s bed,
with a soft lip-smacking sound as she mumbles a polite, thank you. The nurse stretching up on her tiptoes to see him better. As her mother and the doctor talk,
laughs, reaching out to ruffle the little one’s dark curls. the girl stares at the little thing in the bed. It doesn’t look completely human; its
“Are you excited about meeting your little brother?” head is big, its body is too long, its hands are chubby, and its fingers are so tiny
Gazing up at the nice woman’s angular face and pretty green eyes, the little girl that she isn’t sure they’re fully formed. As she stares at him, the little thing blinks
rolls her eyes. slowly and then gazes up at her with squinty blue eyes. She reaches over slowly
“Not really. Babies are ugly. But, Momma says I ain’t gunna thank that when I see to touch his puffy little hand, wondering why his skin is so red that when she
him,” she answers honestly, knowing that it isn’t right to lie. touches it the spot around her fingers goes all white and weird looking. The baby
The nurse laughs, shaking her head slightly. As the tip of her long blond ponytail wiggles his fingers slightly, barely a twitch, and she slides her index finger
4
brushes against her back, she gives the girl a conspirator’s grin.
5

6. Three nights later, the little girl stands in the waiting room of a hospital, yet
against his palm. As he closes his tiny little stubs around her slim digit, again. This time, tears streak down her cheeks and she clutches her jacket closed
a delighted smile breaks across her innocent face. Practically glowing with around her pajamas. A Beanie Baby puppy is firmly squished between one arm
happiness, she gazes adoringly at the little boy until he closes his eyes again and and her chest as she sobs quietly, pleading with anyone who will listen, to please
releases her finger. tell her what’s wrong. She can’t understand why her Bubba was shaking so badly,
Finally, she looks towards her mother again. or why her Momma and Daddy are crying and they aren’t allowed to see him.
“Mommy?” she quips quietly, not wanting to disturb the baby. As they cart the little boy out of the hospital on a stretcher, into the awaiting
“Yes?” helicopter, the little girl rushes after him. She stands in the hospital doors,
“I gunna call him Bubba,” she answers, as though this is the most simple, and watching the massive blades slice through the air, practically cowering away from
highly important, thing in the world. the terrible sound. She watches with wide, terrified eyes as the giant metal beast
For around six months the little girl goes to school when she has to, but takes her brother away. Then, she’s rushed off to her grandma’s house while
otherwise she stays home, practically attached to her brother’s side. In her mind, Momma and Daddy go to take care of Bubba and bring him home.
the rapidly growing baby is the most precious thing in the world. She doesn’t Not a week later, she’s sitting in the miniature rocking chair in the middle of her
mind when he cries. She patiently allows him to pull on her long brown curls. She grandma’s living room, clutching the same stuffed puppy to her chest. Her face
giggles at how much noise he makes when he’s happy and how he smiles when he is still streaked with tears, but she’s smiling up at a man in a dark suit. This man,
sees her. Life is perfect. his light brown eyes warm and welcoming, jokes with her. He asks to sit in her
One night, at her grandma’s house, Bubba is lying on the couch while Momma chair, and she squeals in protest, informing him that he’s too big and will break
gets ready to change his diaper. The girl prances into the kitchen, opening the it. He asks to see her puppy, and she clutches it tighter, her bright smile suddenly
door to the large white refrigerator and looking around in it. Not finding what fading. He sighs, his dark skin lacking in a certain glow that shows someone
she wants, she shuts the door and heads towards the back porch to ask her Pa if is enjoying his activity. Brushing his lanky fingers through his short brown
he can help. However, before she can cross the distance, she hears an alarmed hair, he crouches down in front of the girl, giving her a very serious look. And
cry. She rushes towards the sound quickly, hearing her Bubba’s wail start up. then he asks a round of questions that range from just plain silly to absolutely
Before she can get to him, she’s scooped up in her Daddy’s arms and carried devastating. Finally, she’s in tears again, glaring up at this man. His eyes are no
in the opposite direction. Daddy takes her home, without Momma or Bubba, longer warm but full of sorrow.
and for hours she paces the house, whining impatiently and demanding to see He smoothes over his dark suit nervously, unsure as to how to face the wrath of
her brother. Finally, Momma comes in the door, Bubba in her arms. The little this tiny whirlwind.
girl rushes towards them, rambling on a mile a minute wanting to know what’s “My Mommy and Daddy are not mean. You are mean. Stop bothering me. Go
happening and why everyone’s so upset. away. NOW!” Her voice rises with each word, until she’s shouting at him, her
“Bubby just hit his head,” Momma explains quietly, as the strapping baby boy cheeks flushed and her eyes nearly black with fury.
reaches impatiently for his sister, making grabby hands. “They never hurt us!” she adds in a softer tone, the words broken by a sob,
Satisfied with this response, and seeing that he’s okay, the little girl reaches before she rushes out.
up and slides her own sun-kissed hand into his chubby paw. Things go back to The man in the suit thanks her grandma for their time, shaking her hand and
normal, for a few days. apologizing for upsetting the little girl. Then he turns to his partner, a man with a
6 7

7. similar appearance but no fondness or sympathy for children. This man had
been ignored by the little girl during the entire meeting, as she’d heard him telling
her grandma that they didn’t want her seeing her mother or father.
Not Ready to Leave Here
“I think she made it pretty clear,” the nicer man says as they take their leave. Cody Speed
Days go by, the funeral passing in a blur that she doesn’t even want to
remember. She cries almost constantly, wanting her brother back, wanting to see
her parents, wanting to know why God is being so mean. The days turn to months
before she’s allowed to live with her parents, only seeing them when supervised.
During this time, the only comfort to her is her dreams.
Every night, she experiences the same dream. A soft glowing white light
surrounds her, and soon enough she isn’t alone, but in the company of a beautiful
woman with long blond hair and comforting green eyes. This woman, however,
isn’t dressed in hot pink scrubs or bringing lollipops. A white dress that seems
to flow and flutter constantly covers her willowy form in a demure fashion, the
sleeves falling well past her hands. Large white wings sprout from her back, a
source of interest to the girl even though she understands what they mean. The
feathers ruffle occasionally, in response to some movement or action, creating a
comforting sound that soon becomes the little girl’s new version of her brother’s
laugh. And a thin ring of gold hovers above the woman’s head, glowing with the
same bright white light as everything else in this dreamscape. The woman brings
news, her voice somehow holding every happy memory the little girl has of her
brother. The news is always the same. Bubba is okay, he is happy; he is with
people that love him. He is not gone.
As much as the little girl may want to stay in this dream with this woman who
reminds her of happiness, she cannot. Soon enough, life returns to happiness;
though, there are moments of great sorrow. She returns to her parents. She grows
up. She never forgets the visitors of her youth: the nurse that told her it was
possible to like her brother; the man in the suit that tried to gain her trust, simply
so he could question her about her parents; and the angel that visited her dreams
to help her find closure. But most importantly, the adorable little boy, who was Pen and Ink
the most amazing Bubba in the world, while he had the time to be, the little boy 8 x 11
that changed her life, and left a deep mark on her heart, soul, and family.
Leaving behind someone you love.
8 9

8. These Shoes Tear Fall
Belinda Barker Zachariah Dickson
these shoes
never worn in my youth
stiff and unyielding
perched high on
their lofty place
waiting
these shoes
brought down with halting purpose
alien and new
beside a dress
the color of mourning
waiting
these shoes
creased with maps from my tears
scalloped and hot
fallen from downward eyes
that cannot turn away
waiting
these shoes
rediscovered
broken and pliant Graphic Design
hidden beneath the silent stories 1384 x 3648 pixels
of my life
waiting
Represents the sadness of losing a loved one through the heart of a grieving child.
10 11

9. We Buried a Boy Drops of Jupiter
we buried a boy today Belinda Barker Cody Speed
a beautiful boy
the sound
of a mother’s silent mourning
the sound
of your own child’s grief
unimaginable sounds
unanswerable questions
unthinkable answers
the sound
of each heart rending
joining all the others
desperate to make sense
of the beautiful boy’s death
the sound
of young men in unison
their cadence crushed and strong
singing the swan song of the boy
the sound Acrylic on Canvas
of love 20 x 16
we buried a boy today Looking up and seeing the one you lost in the stars.
a beautiful boy
In loving memory of Jacob Cole Nunley (September 22,
1993--September 10, 2012)
12 13

10. Benefits Distant Places Bring
You sit across from me Brittney Reed Lonesome Faces
and tell me about my retirement options.
Even you know this is ridiculous: Cody Michael Williams
the tiny giggle bubbles from your lips
at the end of each sentence.
You were running late—
I’m twenty-three.
I must make you feel awkward.
You tell me about my new life
insurance policy, and I wonder if I died
how much money my parents would get,
if it would be enough for even one round
of my father’s chemo. If it could gather
each hair from his pillow, weave it into something
other than an empty bank account
and a line of zeros.
My face is pale but unfair, unlined.
They call me sweetie on the phone, ask for my superior.
The little I command is too much.
They want to know where I hide my incompetence.
I must keep it in my tiny pocket of years,
sewn into the hem of my thrift store skirt.
Acrylic on Wood
You push pages across your desk 31 1/2 x 12 1/2
and I sign each one with my name Using color combinations to create harmony so the
but also with thank you,
with I’m sorry, viewer can interpret the image as they see fit.
I don’t want this,
I have no place in my life to put it.
14 15

11. The Calling In God We Trust
Mary Jean Hall It all seems the same Ashley Burton
Justification for a game
Reality for a peace
A color of a painting for which we might be
The same God in a different land
Holding the same hands
Leading people to understand
Yet you hate and migrate
And won’t seek face of
Anyone who looks differently
Than you
Who speaks with more slurs than you do?
And we sin and say only God can judge me
Like it is ok to be a slob of whom we teach not to be
It all seems the same
Justification for a game
Reality for a peace
A color of a painting for which we might be
Wars based on differences
And we neglect what is significant
For prized possessions that fade away
And say we want a piece of heaven
Yet don’t search for righteousness
Or pray to understand what needs to be understood
This is a land where people look at your shoes
Before they speak to you
Digital Photography And ask what you do
Instead of asking about you
Capturing the beauty of nature. It all seems the same
Justification for a game
Reality for a peace
16 A color of a painting for which we might be 17

12. The Little Things
We base our trust in a government we distrust
And take from the poor
Knock if you may on murderers’ door
And we claim that every hard working person is evil
Lauren Whitaker
We belittle if they don’t meet the standards of everyone else
We have forgotten about the collective good
And only think about self
We say Amen
Although we don’t agree
We get on our knees to do everything but pray
So I say
It all seems the same
Justification for a game
Reality for a peace
A color of a painting for which we might be
Digital Photography with a fish-eye lens
Bringing appreciation to seemingly normal things.
The little things in life are often the most beautiful.
18 19

13. Wish Right Now A Sideways Glance
Cody Speed Kristin Brooks
Beth quietly retrieved her coffee from the counter of the coffee shop, and
retreated to a corner seat in the back of the supposedly warm, and welcoming
café. She couldn’t help but enjoy the warm rays of the sun that, regardless of
the bold orange blinds, seemed to be drawn to her like two magnets, that had
found themselves in the bottom of the cluttered kitchen ‘catch-all’ drawer.
She seemed to be surrounded by warmth: the friendly waitress behind the
counter who had smiled, as she had unknowingly given her the incorrect
change; the rays of sun passing through the windows; and the appealing
sideways glance of the handsome young gentlemen, sitting across from her
sipping, on what appeared to be a latte, covered in rich cream. Wait, this last
entry in the never-ending lists of her mind was one that had not been noticed,
or logged mentally, before. She found herself out of her comfort zone, being
one who usually melted, unnoticed into the scenery.
The man reminded her of Steven, her ex, who had broken her heart, just a
few months before. She had fallen in love with him, and the year that they
had been together, had been wonderful. Beth had always been a quiet person,
who never said much, and was always in the shadow of others. Steven had
the uncanny ability of making her forget about her self-conscious nature,
and could draw her out of herself enough, that she could enjoy life. She had
finally learned to trust him, and had started to picture their future together,
just as her world had come crashing down. He had sat her down at the
kitchen table, in the apartment that they shared, and bluntly told her that
he had met someone else. He left shortly after that, and she hadn’t seen him
since. This had propelled her back deeper, into her painfully shy world of
self-consciousness, and withdrawal.
Acrylic on Canvas Seeing this man, Beth thought to herself, that maybe this was the start to
20 x 16 a new beginning, a second chance at a life with someone else. She held her
breath as the man smiled, rose to his feet, and started to make his way to her
Saying goodbye to all your dreams and wishing for a reprieve. table. Her heart fluttered, as his shiny black shoes waded through what
20 21

14. had once been a cup of coffee strewn along the floor that had carelessly and
inefficiently been cleaned up. Her mind flew to the possibilities of what he might Sadness
say to her, and what she could possibly say that would keep him from running in
the opposite direction. She always had been able to say just the wrong thing that
Zachariah Dickson
would cause a guy to quickly excuse himself, from her presence, but maybe she
had learned enough from Steven, to keep this guy from bolting.
He grew closer and closer, and time seemed to pass slower and slower. Time
was jolted into what seemed an endless Hades, as he passed by her and reached
for the decorative handle of the exit door, she had unknowingly placed herself
beside, as she felt her hopes diminish and her dream for a normal life disappear,
along with the handsome stranger, around the bustling street corner.
Graphic Design
2265 x 7681 pixels
Emotions are meant to be seen, not held in and thought on.
22 23

15. Gaze Wonder Lust
Alexandra Stover Rachel Hurst
I want to take this world
And crack it within these trembling hands.
I want to take it
And press its fractures to my lips
So that I can drink deeply of its
Wonders and secrets.
Watercolor (landscape) Acrylic (characters) on Canvas
18 x 24
Putting my original characters in their natural
environment for the first time.
24 25

16. Tree Woman Cries Colorful
Zachariah Dickson Jami Miller
Blue lips, Red eyes
Violet patches on my skin
Reluctant apologies
Mean nothing when
Released from those lips
And then I hear him
Whisper “you are my favorite fragile thing”
And I am in love again.
Graphic Design
2264 x 3046 pixels
Even when the world around you is beautiful, it does not make up the
grief within oneself.
26 27

17. Dance It All Away The All Powerful Hairy Hand
Beth Crocker Jonathan Lucas French
He was lying there in the rank smell of urine and shit, stiff, like a fish you left
in the back of a pickup too long on a hot day. With his pants and underwear at
his ankles it was almost surreal seeing him there, in the basement of the church,
where my family knelt and prayed, sang and danced. With an open mouth and
eyes wide open, stuck, frozen in time, his face was mashed against the cold
cement floor. It was so much to take in, standing there seeing him. I didn’t dare
move nor make a sound. I just stood and stared, listening to the music and the
people I knew to be good, dancing and celebrating Jesus in all His glory, in the
sanctuary above.
It was Willard, the retarded boy, who didn’t like to be touched by anyone he
didn’t know. He was Mrs. Dowdy’s grandson and she had taken him to every
church service I ever been to. His beard was one of wonder, one that could never
be groomed, due to his erratic violent movements. He sat often in front of me
and my family, and I would peer at him and ponder as to what he was thinking,
as he moved his head as if flies were all about. He was unique, gray haired at an
early age, with yellow and black teeth that were usually clenched. He had aged
eyes that seemed to look beyond this world and into another. I admired him,
admired his blood vessels that ran wild, standing out on his arms like markings
on a map. I admired his strength for throwing people about when they would try
to place hands on him. He was almost a super hero in slacks, Willard, the retard.
Now he was beneath me, dead in a puddle of his own piss, with people dancing
above unbeknownst to his new form.
A hand was placed on my shoulder, coming from nowhere, startling me, almost
Permanent Marker and Sharpie like it was a hand of God himself. It was Brother Rick, dressed in black as always,
9 x 12 holding me, reassuring me. Standing there we looked at poor Willard.
“Dear Lord, what in the world was he doing?” Brother Rick said calmly, clenching
Expressing joy, youth, and freedom in the use of the me close, my elbow at his waist.
figure and the colors.
28 29

18. Staring at Willard, it was a thought, his words, though none of real reason. I
was young and knew not a lot, but I knew it wasn’t what Willard was doing, rather To be Unmeasured
what had been done to him. With tears in my eyes waiting to fall, my body tensed
up with every movement of Brother Rick’s big hairy hand, working its way up my
Cody Michael Williams
neck, as I looked at the last of my mindless super hero. I thought I was special. I
thought I was the only one. I thought if I could’ve been Willard, I would’ve been
strong enough, mindless enough, to fight back; I wasn’t, and neither was he.
Acrylic on Wood
31 1/2 x 12 1/2
Using color combinations to create harmony so the
viewer can interpret the image as they see fit.
30 31

19. The Question Waterland
Cody Jarman Zachariah Dickson
This is not a poem
nor is it a short story
nor a play
nor a dance, painting, or sculpture
It is present merely to raise the question
Just like you or I
The universe is wide
it is an eternally silent plane
but if a being gives a voice to the void
is that not meaning enough?
Graphic Design
1930 x 3804 pixels
Showing the fluidity of both ocean creatures and humanity, and our ability
to change and warp to the changing of the world.
32 33

20. Blooming with Hue Looking up the Eiffel at Night
Jocelyne Barchet Kara Kidwell
Acrylic Paint Digital Photography
18 x 24 4320 x 3240 pixels
Showing a full spectrum of color centered on flowers. Showing an angle of the Eiffel Tower that is not normally seen.
34 35

21. Abstract Painting Center
Lauren Suiter Melanie O’Neil
Acrylic on Canvas Photograph
11 x 14 Capturing the beauty of Mother Nature.
An abstract piece that contains no recognizable forms
yet depicts an overall happy mood.
36 37

22. Wine Bottle Alone at Last
Aaron Burks Megan Schwab
Charcoal on Paper Oil on Canvas
18 x 24 28 x 22
A study of still life with light, shadow and tone. Endeavoring with oil paints for the first time.
38 39

23. Curious Aquarium Nighttime
Jocelyne Barchet Melanie O’Neil
Photograph
Pastels Showing how bright the world can be at night.
11 x 14
Representing the curiosity of a young person’s mind.
(Notice the child in the bottom-left corner.)
40 41

24. Ephemera Gilt and Crystal at the Louvre
Brittney Reed Kara Kidwell
I find my pleasure in cheap things meant to be taken off
like the leopard-print slip that slides
over the cleft between thighs
with a purring, symphony of zippers
meant to be thrown away
the books never made for top billing on any shelf
paperbacks born to die kicked under beds
pages still sticky with cherry soda and lust
to be tossed aside
the thin edge of night and morning
when another cigarette forever is never the last
and the car tires binge-eat asphalt
like they’re looking for love at the bottom of the cookie jar
made cheap and easy
the lucky can buy happiness from gumball machines,
find it in lipstick, unicorn pink
glitter stickers on early ‘90s trapper keepers Digital Photography
4320 x 3240 pixels
both trashy and inane
arraying selves in junk, Showing a chandelier from another angle.
building lives out of cast-offs from the bottom of the drawer,
lighting blonde Jesus candles while radio starlets gyrate
on tarnished silver screens
They wouldn’t call it tacky if it didn’t stick in your heart.
42 43

25. A Modern Pyramus and Thisbe Night Sky Dreamscape
Misty Dunlap Jocelyne Barchet
I am having a love affair between the walls
knock once for are you there
knock twice with a long pause in between for I want to kiss you
knock three times for reassurance that everything will be okay
we will not wake up in ten years to find we still have not
taken that road trip or won a Nobel Prize
we sleep as close as we can to our shared wall
backs pressed, ribs uncurled
a knuckle running against the eggshell white paint
as if the color was the soft crook of an elbow
whisper all your fears, regrets, plans, likes
I will keep an empty tumbler on my windowsill
ready to listen
Oil Painting
18 x 24
Resembling a dream.
44 45

26. Blackhole Sun Rotting Teeth
Zach Johnson Rachel Hurst
His fingers sailed across the decaying teeth, lithe and caressing. Each one
gave in to his touch hesitantly, and whispered music between the trees and
the moonlight. Melodies soared into the night, carried on his breath with each
slow exhale. Around him the world hushed. No cry of the birds were heard, no
movement of the wind called. All the sounds of the night fell quiet in the presence
of him and the long forgotten instrument. The stars, as well, took a step back at
the show of his hands’ gentle play.
Sour wood permeated the air and foliage spilt forth from its core. The feel of
the ruts and scars marred along the keys matched his own on the curve of his lip
and those along the delicate lining of her heart. It was an outcast to its owner,
just as the girl with shaking hands was to the lover before him. Each groan of an
unyielding chord struck him, just as the hardness in her words would. Despite
its quiet beauty, abuse had left its scoring mark on the piano, leaving its spirit
broken for nature to take back into its bosom. No amount of skill would again
beckon its beautiful language. Its love cast away from its owner, just as his
beloved had been. No, neither the piano nor the girl would sing for him, as they
had for those that touched them before. But still he would remain.
Charcoal on Drawing Paper
9 x 12
Realizing an idea.
46 47

27. Oil The Gremlin of All Hallow’s Eve
Alexandra Stover Eli Anderson
I tell you now of a beast of old
Who walked the earth with courage bold.
Listen close with fervid ear
And lean in close so you may hear.
He walked these hills, these plains, these woods
And even terrorized our neighborhoods.
His figure is ghastly, his spirit you’ll feel
And his presence alone will make grown men squeal.
His long lanky limbs leave no print in the earth
And he is ghoulishly misshapen for lack of girth.
He prowls the night with malice entail
And he uses the land for his shadowy veil.
His hair hangs long from all four limbs
And cursed be the soul that catches a glimpse.
His long ivory claws stay sharp from use
And from them he learned to deal man abuse.
His large sunken eyes can be spotted at night,
They’ve been known to emit a ghoulish green light.
Do not be fooled, he is no boorish brute
His mind is as sharp as yours and mine to boot.
He is often seen tracing the water’s edge
And is occasionally spotted peering from a mountain ledge.
Oil on Canvas We know not where he next will creep
Being striking and complementary of the colors within the painting But we know that he can never sleep.
while remaining loose.
48 49

28. Into the Dark Should I Do This?
Cody Speed Regan Ward
Should I do this? What if I’m gonna regret this? John’s pale face feels like it is
gradually beginning to sizzle under the scrutiny of the sun’s rays. Kate draws
his attention, away from deep thoughts, with the breathless sigh to his right that
brings goose bumps to every inch of his skin. He is so warm and so cold; he is
incredibly confused but also absolutely sure. Her freckled collarbones slowly rise
as the small bits of pollen around her face rush to her pink, slender nose. A few
strands of pumpernickel-colored hair slide elegantly across her high cheekbone
and strong jaw line, as she tilts her closed emerald eyes towards him.
“What?” she says.
“What ‘what’?”
“You’re staring at me. You can’t hide it from me anymore, ya know?”
“So, you can just sense that now or something?”
“Yeah, pretty much. Ever since high school,” she says.
“Ah, yes, Arlington High. How you loved that place.”
“Oh, hush. It’s not like you were having the time of your life either.”
“I started to, senior year.”
“Now you’re just sucking up.”
“No really. Just like right then; your giggle always made French easier.”
“Weren’t you just blessed the only seat open was right in front of you, then?”
“Nah, first thing that came to mind was, ‘Ew, freshman.’”
“Don’t even pretend. I knew what you were thinking the first day of freshman
year.”
Pen and Ink “You’re weird.”
8 x 11 “You’re the one staring.”
“True.”
Facing the darkness and pain is always better with a friend. “So?”
“It’s nothing. You just look relaxed is all.”
“Wow.”
50 51

29. “Huh?” “You are a jerk.”
“You suck at lying, even with my eyes closed.” “What?”
“I thought you were sleeping, so I was going to play a prank on you.” “You do not ask a girl to marry you as a prank, if you want to live to see the
“Really? What prank was that?” mornin’ after.”
“No, I’ll just save it for later,” he says. “Sorry, I didn’t think it would bother you.”
“You weren’t going to play a prank.” “It didn’t.”
“You can wipe that little smirk off your face, smart butt. I did have a prank.” “Liar.”
“Then do it. I still have my eyes closed, don’t I?” “Hey, I do have a real question for you, though.”
“You won’t like it.” “What’s that?”
“Isn’t that the point of a prank?” “Wanna propose to me?”
“Not my prank.” “I just did.”
“Then why don’t you do it?”
“Maybe, I will.”
“You’re too careful about things. You need to buck up, Mister.”
“You pick on me now, but wouldn’t you want any boy to be careful with you?”
“I’m not pickin’ too bad. And, of course I would, but you’re different.”
“You don’t want me to be careful?”
“No, you just aren’t anywhere near normal.”
“Aren’t we just a pair then?”
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to be. I mean, come on, we’ve known each
other for about seven years now, right? If I haven’t decided by now that I hate
your guts, when will I ever?”
“True.”
“Seriously, John, I’m only kidding. What is it? You looked like you were about to
be sick… but just now you look like you could up and kiss that frog sitting by that
half-sunk log over there. What is up with you today?”
“I just wanted to ask you something.”
“And that’s your prank or…”
“Yeah, kind of.”
“So, what is it?”
“You’re kinda cute, you know that?”
“Do what now?”
“Will you marry me?”
52 53

30. The Companion The Shakes
Diane Shaw Toshya Leonard
All of the fine China
Has been put away
Since the fateful hour
Grandpa got the shakes.
Grandma took out the TV
And the garbage too,
But judging by her expression,
It didn’t do much good.
There Grandpa sits talking
To all of no audience,
And all the doctors can prescribe
Is a dose of plenty patience.
As Grandma’s wrinkles grow,
Grandpa’s condition stays the same.
The pills; the drugs; the war; the Man;
Those are who to blame.
He can remember the past
Acrylic on Paper As clear as the blue sky,
14 x 21 And all Grandma can do
Is sit back in her rocker and cry.
Signifying the universal behavior pattern for those who have the ability to be a loyal
companion without the need to be self-serving. Grandpa hasn’t been his best
Since April of 1965.
Grandma is out of mind,
But at the same, still alive.
54 55

31. Grandpa talks about the bombs Tilted, Twisted, and Worn
And when the missiles flew,
But ask him about the kids,
Donna Hacker
And he doesn’t have a clue.
He still yells into his pillow
And cannot help but weep.
It’s probably been a thousand nights
Since Grandma’s gotten any sleep.
It’s not that she doesn’t care;
It’s that she cares too much.
No offense to God,
But her prayers haven’t had luck.
Grandma just wants company,
For she can’t drink coffee alone,
But it would be just as easy
To send Grandpa off to “the home.”
Grandma understands that age
Is a force that you can’t fight,
And with it comes rage,
Which Grandpa fights every night.
Grandma still claims
Digital Photography
That Grandpa’s love is there. Capturing the early morning light that is reflecting on this quirky old rugged
Even if they are crazy together, white picket fence.
It’s a love that they still share.
All of the fine China
Is still put away,
But Grandma remains
With Grandpa and his shakes.
56 57

32. Family Photographs Wonderland
Belinda Barker Zachariah Dickson
heart falling first
mind scrambling behind
searching for a hold
to recapture the snapshot
before this flash in time
family photographs
never taken
forgotten to be forgotten
in the space not yet awake and not yet sleeping even there and even then
they awake in dreams
of muscles reenacting the slow motions
plummeting down into the darkest room
where a stopped heart must remember how to beat
and a body so plagued with weariness
leaves a spirit whose brokenness is its only beauty
family photographs
never displayed
forgotten to be forgotten Graphic Design
632 x 2616 pixels
Giving the viewer a new reflection beyond the looking glass.
58 59

33. Feather Stone Road to Recovery
Cody Speed Rocky Holland
Russell Russo was a compulsive gambler. Compulsive was a nice way of putting
it. Russell needed to feel the exciting rush of betting like a drug addict, needed
to feel the high of premium heroin. Lady Luck is a bipolar wasp, uncertain,
untrustworthy, and ready to strike at any moment. Russell had been in recovery
for half a year. It had been six months since his last paycheck was blown, his last
bill went unpaid and his last relative had cut him off.
Russell had stopped at Dave’s Gas and Grubb to fill his tank after work. There
appeared to be only one clerk working behind the counter and Russell stood at
the end of a long line of rush hour customers. The clerk was overwhelmed and
the customers were becoming agitated. Russell glanced around the store as he
waited, and his eyes came to a flashy purple sign with silver stars, advertising the
state lottery. There was a new scratch off game available, Red Hot 25’s,and the
sign informed him, that he could win twenty-five hundred dollars every week, for
life. He imagined what it would be like to hit that jackpot. He imagined walking
into work the next day and telling his boss to piss off; being able to retire early
and spend the rest of his days relaxing. He thought of what it would be like to pay
off all his loans, the student loans, as well as, the gambling loans. He could have
it all, for just the minor, tiny, insignificant, short-term investment of five dollars
Clay/Metal/Feathers
out of pocket.
19 x 22
“Next!” the store clerk said, waking Russell from his daydream.
The higher and brighter the feathers, the closer to the spirits you are. “Pump number three, pack of Marlboro Lights…and a Red Hot 25, please.”
Influenced by African masks. Russell told himself not to feel guilty. It was only five dollars; besides, the money
60 61

34. went towards college scholarships and new roads. All he had done was donate five Thirty minutes later Russell heard himself telling the clerk, “This is my last
dollars to a good cause. This was not a big deal. round and then I’m done.” Fifteen minutes after that, he said, “A few more, then
Russell took a quarter from his pocket and began to scratch the lottery ticket. I’ve got to go.” Finally, the rush started to wear off and the guilt started to set in.
He absolutely hated scratching tickets one play at a time; he always scratched the Russell’s conscience had caught up with him. After two hours, Russell had lost
entire ticket all at once and looked for the winning numbers after. Russell’s heart close to two hundred dollars, including the money from the handful of times he
dropped to his stomach, as he saw a flaming twenty-five appear. He looked across had won.
to the prizes: free ticket. Russell was glad he wasn’t walking away empty handed. Russell sat in his Nissan Civic staring at a picture of his wife, Renee, and his
It was like he had gotten two tickets for the price of one, which made the five three children. He kept a photograph of his family taped to his dashboard, his
dollar investment, worth it in his mind. motivation. It had done him no good, today. He was going to have to go home and
He scratched ticket number two. That one was a bust. Russell discarded the tell his wife where the two hundred dollars had gone. He imagined sitting down
ticket into the trash. He started to walk out of the convenience store, while at the kitchen table, and telling her; which, would be followed by the unbearable
thinking: If the odds are one in three, then one of the next two tickets could possibly conversation that was sure to come after. He could already see the hurt and
have a cash prize, right? Russell busted on the next two tickets he purchased. disappointment in her eyes, the worst part of it all. That, however, was a situation
Thinking that the roll of tickets was bound to pay off at some point, now more he’d had to deal with, time and time again in the past. Tonight, there would be
than ever, he bought two more. a new one. He’d have to tell his three sons, that they would not be going to the
“Hot damn!” Russell said, as he finally hit fifteen dollars. ballpark this weekend. It would have been his youngest son’s first time seeing a
“Would you like to keep playing or do you want the cash?” the clerk asked him. live major league game.
Russell heard his next words, as if he were having an out of body experience. His It wasn’t unusual for Russell to work late, every so often. His boss wasn’t stingy
conscience was screaming at him from some far off distant land, but it was too about over-time, during the busy season. He called Renee, to tell her that he’d be
late; the warning had fallen upon deaf ears, and he lost complete control. “I want coming home late. The lie seemed insignificant, compared to what he’d inevitably
a Lucky Horseshoe, Outstanding Aces, Quick $50, 10x The Money, Bingo, Cool be telling her, later that night. His hope was that he could stop off for a night cap
Dice, Platinum Diamonds, Cent of Cash, Dazzling 7’s, Flaming Cherries, Hot Slots first, and stay out just long enough to return, when his boys had gone to bed.
and Crazy Eights.” He stopped at his usual drinking spot, Tessa’s Bar and Grill. He walked in,
“Anything else?” the clerk asked, indifferently. loosened his tie, took a seat on a small brown leather stool, and noticed a video
“A one dollar quick pick for the Cash 4 evening drawing, any order.” Russell poker machine, three stools down from him, sitting at the end of the bar.
placed his Cash 4 ticket in his wallet, took a seat at the small table in the back of
the store and began to scratch.
62 63

35. “What the hell,” he said. He fed the machine a dollar and began to play. He didn’t Tessa placed her hand on his shoulder, and said “You’re, not a screw up. You’re,
get the same kind of rush playing the video poker machine, as he got playing the human. You put your pants on, one leg at a time, like the rest of us. Is there
scratch cards; the machine didn’t pay out in anything but points, and if you were anything I can do, to help? Would you like me, to talk to Renee?”
lucky, your name on the high score screen. “Can you lend me two hundred dollars?” Russell asked. It pained him more than
“Looks like someone’s off the wagon,” said Tessa, as she sat down onto the stool anything, to hit people up for money to cover his gambling losses, but it never
next to him. stopped him from doing it. His pride never mattered, as much as, the shame he
“I don’t really want to talk about it, Tess,” he replied. felt from not being able to conceal what he’d done, from his family.
Russell and Renee had gone to college with Tessa. He and Tessa had even dated “Do I really need to answer that?” Tessa said, sounding a little more hostile, than
briefly. Renee had been Tessa’s roommate, which, was how Russell had initially she’d intended. “You know I promised, not to enable you.”
been introduced to her. Tessa had kept in touch with them since graduation “I know. you, and everyone else who matters. How about a rum and Coke then?”
and remained a close friend of the family. It was in college that Russell first Tessa stepped behind the bar and prepared his drink, giving him a double shot
discovered the joys and sorrows of his gambling addiction. He had taken up of rum, but only charging him regular price. She leaned against the counter and
sports betting, and it had gotten serious, when he’d lost a substantial amount of watched the broken gambler play video poker, biting her lip and wanting to do
his student loan. Luckily, Tessa had taken pity on him, and leant him the money, something to help him. An idea popped into her head, and she grabbed a cocktail
that allowed him to pay for the expenses of his final semester. Now, all these napkin and pen. She jotted down a name and address, and slid the napkin in front
years later, when things went wrong he still went to her and spilled his woes over of Russell.
a cold drink. Tessa was a very caring person, his best friend. “What’s this?” he asked.
“How much are you out?” she asked. “I’ll make a long story short,” she began. “I let a guy I was dating run up a tab
“Two,” he said, staring at the video poker game. in here, a little over a thousand dollars, and we had a falling out, last month. He
“That’s not so bad, Russ. At least, it’s not like your trip to Reno.” never came back to pay it. I told him I’d involve the authorities and we agreed to
“Tell that to Renee,” Russell said, as he put another dollar into the machine. settle it for five hundred. I was supposed to pick up the money at his place, after
“She’s very understanding, Russell. You know that. You’re sick, and you’ve been work tonight; you do it, and you can keep two hundred of it.”
working hard, to overcome this thing. No one’s going to fault you, for a small “Tessa, no, I…”
relapse, this soon.” “You’d be doing me a great favor, Russell. I really don’t want to see him again.
“It’s been six months, Tess,” Russell said, looking at her now. “Christ, I was This isn’t me enabling you; this is me paying you to do a job. What do you say?”
supposed to take my boys to the game tomorrow, and now I have to tell them, we “I don’t know what to say. I promise I’ll repay you.”
can’t go, because their daddy’s a screw up. I picked a hell of a week to relapse.”
Russell had tears and frustration in his eyes. 64 65

36. “Just promise me you’ll stick with the therapy, Russell. You can beat this thing. Brian snickered at Russell and began to laugh at him. “You’re a bouncer? You
I know you can. You take your boys to the baseball game and have a great time. always wear a suit and tie to work?”
Remember, they’re depending on you to get well.” “When it’s appropriate,” Russell said, feeling foolish now.
Russell thanked her and hurried to his car. Once again he’d been in a bind and “So, were you supposed to come over here and rough me up for the rest of the
Tessa had bailed him out. But he really would pay her back this time, and he was money, Mr. Floor Bouncer?”
more determined than ever, to control his vice. This time, he’d let his addiction “Just what was agreed on.” Russell was getting extremely uncomfortable, now.
hurt not only him and Renee, but his boys. Russell truly believed he could be He thought once or twice of turning around and bolting back to his car. He wished
better than that. He was going to do right by his family and was going to do right Brian would just shut up and give him the money.
by his overly generous friend. “So, you’re here to rough me up, for what was agreed upon?”
His car came to a stop, in the driveway of 566 Memorial Street. He glanced at Good God! Russell thought to himself. The situation was turning ugly fast.
the picture of his family on the dash, as he pulled the napkin from his pocket. “Look, I’m just here to pick up the five hundred. I’m not looking for any
The guy’s name was Brian. Russell walked across a gravel driveway, to a white trouble.”
two-story house with a long wooden porch on the front of it. He thought it was a Brian stepped closer to Russell, chest to chest with him, staring into his eyes and
gorgeous place; had a well-kept lawn, two car garage, garden, and a porch swing. sizing him up. Russell tried to look away and was almost sure, he was about to get
It was a nice little slice of the American dream; like something out of a magazine. punched in the face.
He rang the doorbell, and a short moment later it was answered by a large, gruff, “Wait here,” Brian said and went back into the house.
unshaven man wearing a polo shirt and khaki shorts. The man had anger in his “Thank you,” Russell muttered under his breath, relieved not to be lying on the
eyes, and Russell wondered for a second if this had been a good idea. Brian was ground, with a broken nose.
built like a professional football player, and Russell could smell whiskey on his Brain returned to the door, holding a Mossberg 12 gauge pump action shotgun,
breath. with pistol grip across his chest. “I don’t know what kind of crap Tessa is trying
“Who the hell are you?” Brian asked. to pull, but you can tell her, if she wants the money, she can take me to court.
“I’m a…uh…coworker of Tessa’s. She sent me to pick up the money.” Now, get the hell off my porch.”
“You work for Tessa?” Brian asked, looking Russell up and down. Russell hadn’t even waited for Brain to finish his last sentence, before he’d
“That’s right.” turned around, and sprinted back to his car. When he’d put enough distance
“How come I’ve never seen you in there before?” between himself and the house, he pulled off the road and tried to get his breathing under
“Just started; got hired on as a floor bouncer,” Russell said, hoping to end this control. He thought for a second, he might have been having a heart attack, but
encounter quickly.
66 67

37. as the adrenalin started to wear off, he caught his breath and calmed his nerves. Russell thought of his family. He thought of his wife, Renee. He remembered his
Russell looked at the picture of his family and slammed his fists onto the steering boys and the game tomorrow. He pictured Tessa standing behind the bar, with the
wheel. He was back to square one. He was going to have to go home, and tell his sad pitiful look on her face, and the offer to bail him out, again. He thought of all
wife, he’d lost the money, and tell his boys, that they’d be watching the game in the people who meant something to him, turned around, and walked out of the
the living room on the flat screen. And now, he’d messed things up for Tessa, as store.
well. Russell decided to head home, and get it over with. The next day, he would give Tessa one thousand dollars, and tell her Brian had
He started the car and turned the volume up on the radio, to try and concentrate come to his senses, and decided to settle things evenly. He would take his boys
on something, other than what he was about to face. He caught the tail end of to the ballpark and put the remaining two hundred to use on hotdogs, sodas,
some new rock song, and as it faded out, the DJ announced, “Up next, we’ll have and souvenirs. On Tuesday night, the next week, he would go to his gamblers
tonight’s winning lottery numbers.” Russell suddenly remembered the Cash 4 anonymous group therapy session, discuss his relapse, and begin his journey
ticket he’d purchased earlier and quickly dug it out of his wallet. He listened as once again, on the long road to recovery.
the DJ read through the Powerball and Cash 3 drawings.
“Now for your Cash 4 evening drawing, the numbers are: Three, four, three, and
three.”
Russell looked at the ticket, and his adrenaline was suddenly pumping, as it had
when the crazy man had been threatening him, with a shotgun. Lady Luck had
stung him, and he could feel the poison entering his veins. The numbers on Russell’s ticket
read: 3; 3; 4; and 3. Russell tried to remember the jackpot for three identical digits, in any
order.
He pulled into the closest gas station, and asked the clerk to tell him what his
ticket paid out. She ran his ticket through the lotto machine, and on the electronic
display appeared: WINNER! $1,200! Russell couldn’t believe it. As the clerk handed
him back his ticket, he found himself, once again tempted by the scratch-offs. He
had extra cash now, more than enough for a couple of go-rounds; perhaps, a quick
trip to the casino, instead.
68 69

38. Deadly Substance 12:30
Jocelyne Barchet Aaron Burks
Charcoal on Paper
Charcoal 18 x 24
18 x 24 A study of still life with light, shadow, and tone.
Looking through the eyes of the artist while sketching.
70 71

39. Please, Professor My hand is cramped, my eyes have crossed,
My foot’s asleep and I’m plumb lost,
Kathleen Alford Oh please, oh please, oh please dear prof.,
Oh please, professor, please shut up, Let us have just an hour off,
My head, my brain is stuffed, full up, Please, professor, please shut up.
I know I need to pay attention,
But my mind’s gone past all redemption, Please professor, don’t be sad,
So please, professor, please shut up. And please don’t let us make you mad,
It’s not that we don’t care – we do!
It’s not that I don’t want to learn, We just need some time to renew,
It’s not that this class I spurn, So please, professor, just – please shut up.
It’s just that I’ve my focus lost,
And I know not listening will cost,
So please, professor, please shut up.
I hear you speak, but nothing stays,
I know my eyes have got that glaze,
I’m sorry I don’t seem to care,
About the things you’ve got to share,
But please, professor, please shut up.
Cut class short, just this once,
I feel like such a royal dunce,
The others seem to feel the same,
Heads ducked low in tired shame,
Oh please, professor, please shut up.
72 73

40. Timeless
Kait Scott
“Fire and Ice”, the cover art, is by Cody Speed. The medium is acyrlic on canvas.
The painting’s dimensions are 20 x 16. The artist’s intention was to portray how
opposites attract but cannot be together.
The University of Tennessee is an EEO/AA/Title VI/Title IX/Section 504/ADA/ADEA institution in the provision of its
education and employment programs and services. All qualified applicants will receive equal consideration for employment
without regard to race, color, national origin, religion, sex, pregnancy, marital status, sexual orientation, gender identity, age,
Digital Photography physical or mental disability, or covered veteran status. E05-4030-00-003-11
Documenting the passage of time.
74 75

41. Fire and Ice
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
Robert Frost