The Gallery

Friday, September 24, 2004





by Kayla Guthrie

Deeper, Wound, Deeper

Deeper, wound, deeper;
I've almost forgotten what pain is like.
Cut deeper, cut sharper,
Cut me with that dull blade of self-loathe.

I lick these wounds every day
And pour salt in them every night.
If they heal, how am I to display them?

No one pities scars-
Scars are memories of a pain no longer felt.
Wounds are much nobler-
Still stinging and gaping and overt
For all eyes' gaze.

"Oh, you poor thing, Let me help you."

Deeper, wound, deeper;
Never scar or heal
Never let me forget what pain or pity are like.

I'll show you my pain,
You give me your pity,
And we can love each other
For now.

by Joey Henderson

Playtime

It was a castle standing
centered in a sea of green.
It was a fortress of blue and white,
high above everything.
It was a refuge
away from anything that plagued me.
I could close the door
and be shut away with my dolls
so I could care for them.
I cooked their meals.
I did their laundry.
Sometimes we had a visitor
and my babies had someone else
to play with.
The walls that sheltered us
were built by my mom’s father
with simple tools
and much love.
He is gone now,
gone but still here.
He is in the planks that he nailed together,
a part of my sanctuary, my citadel, my playhouse.

by Kayla Sanders

Believe in Angels

Your defiance is smoothing, little sister,
You who have for so long felt my shadow.
Just know that I was forever standing in the dark.
You sit beneath the “No Parking” sign with your
Dark sunglasses and decorations of jewelry like pride,
In the photograph you let me take of you.
For so long I’ve wanted to pull you out of that photo
And for once really know the person sitting in it.
So much life and intelligence that you hide from me
Simply because I am older and related.
I love you and your dark blue jeans that are never clean.
You make people turn in wonder when you walk by.
Your presence is one that can never go masked.
Your hands are smooth but built by hard lifting
And your skin pale from lack of sunlight.
I want to step in and sit next to you on the ground
Like a small child listening to a fairy tale.
I would look up at you and smile as brilliantly as I can,
Waiting and hanging on your every word.

by Jamie Adkins
Kim

I’m taken back to a day in September,
When the wind was chill and the snow threatened.
We braved the cold and wandered abandoned streets,
In the forgotten and lost buildings that came first.
We could always find things to speak of,
Almost one in spirit and thought at times,
But you are gentler and speak like silk,
Even when angered- a down fall of mine.

I took this photograph that day,
The one that I still love to look at,
And I remember the days when we were closer.
Black and white remembrance.

The white wall stands strong behind you,
But despite it’s strength it is but a back drop to you.
Your below waist hair lifts to the breeze
Making you look dangerously inviting.
Intelligent large eyes gaze like enchantment,
Speaking of the artistic soul they shelter.
Your hands are folded gently as you
Sit on the heels of your warm black boots.
But my eyes keep returning to your hands.
They are delicate to the eye, but
I know the true extent of the craft they hold--
Strong, steady, and loving--
A comfort in times of need.

This, I think, is how I will always
Remember you, my friend.
Porcelain beauty as intense as fire,
Sitting against a white wall of
An abandoned building that came first,
When the wind was chill and the snow threatened.

by Jamie Adkins



by Monica Horkey

On the Effects of Beer

On the effects of beer
He walked
Stumbling clumsily in the dark
On the effects of beer
He talked
A drunk let loose
In the park
His reservoir, yes
I was his flood
I would not have kept him alive
He stole my life
And drained my blood
He killed me
That he might survive
In darkness
We kept in silence
We grieve
I'm part of you
Part black
Part blue
I'm just a bruise
That you gave me
What part of you is bruised?
Should night come
You'll make
Life dark
Here I am, but
Not for long, and
Not anywhere
No moon
No stars
No air

by Rachael Hart



by Monica Horkey		 I Am

I am
This withered flower
Once filled with life
From April’s showers

Now dry and unnourished
Full of decay
Ever longing
the month of May

Like the arid frame
of a burnt down home
nothing left
but skin and bone

Nevermore
to hear sparrow’s song
Nevermore
now that life is gone

Yet still I perch
in my vase
With a fancy ribbon
of yellow lace

My pedals have lost
    their golden hue
And a card that reads
    “I still love you”

by Josh Henderson



by Monica Horkey		 Less Innocent
(A love poem)

I can't escape your feelings
You're perfect, but you're failing every day
I think you're self-defeating
Come here and let me kiss your pains away
Let's spend the day together
Let's spend the day forgetting all our faults
Forget our misconceptions
Remember why we started anyway

I know that things are different
You won't always be my little innocent
But you'll always be lovely
You'll always be the girl with pure intent
I'm fearful of the future
I'm wary of the way you watch the light
It's weakening the stars, now
But your smile will illuminate the night

Without a single worry
Without a single thought or second guess
Just put your hand in mine, now
And I would swear my heart could break my chest
I want to know your feelings
You're perfect, but you don't know what to say
Just say what's on your heart, now
My heart just wants to see light touch your face

by John Benda



by Monica Horkey		 Thunder

In melodic tremor, the thunder rings
Rattling and shaking, days and weeks
And there upon the rosiest cheek, a tear
One small tear, alone, rolling gently
Wiping away the sins of her fathers
In that dark night when thunder abounds
Lightning and thunder rock her very foundation
And she cries on and on
In whispers she whimpers and whimpers
But the fist of thunder pounds down
Iron on iron, dust on dust
Until her undying night breaks
But as the days of terror continue
She cries, and washes her fathers clean
She cries, and the thunder rings

by Adam Spannier