Fetters’ Run

Volume V – Spring 2007

Fetters’ Run

The Ohio University – Lancaster Journal of Art and LiteratureVolume V – Spring 2007

“Ideas are great arrows, but there has to be a bow.”- Bill Moyers

Staff

Editors

Tracy Kelly Kellie Doty

Advisors

Dr. Scott MinarJennifer LaRueDr. Shun Endo

Layout and Design

Tracy Kelly Kellie Doty

Dr. Scott Minar

Introduction

Art Table of Contents

Kellie DotyMillennium SquaresHopeShow Pig

Megan FarrellJamaican Solitude

Ashley WebOutsideStarcry

Literary Table of Contents

Kristopher Bryan ConduitLoverSpare Loose Change for Vietnam VeteransTease

Jeff Caivanoblank canvaspopulation controlthe treasure map

John Clark Wasted Time

Margie Dixon Congruity The Long BusQueen Anne’s Lace

Nancy DonleyOnly as Well as I Can Random ThoughtsWoody Hayes

Kellie DotyI am fromRite of Passage

Benjamin ElbertTeam Spirit

Elisa GonzalezFirst Valentine Second ValentineManifesto (Miss America Smile)

Elissa LeeRocky Hills The Solpugid

Christopher Lindsey A MurderYour Reflection

Brandon O’Neal San FranciscoPortsmouth, OhioPortland East to Boise

Kristopher Bryan

Conduit

Rock cakedOn silver spoon,Balanced by wavering handsThat prick flesh-A pinhole.Retracting,Mixing the poisonUse pressureTo relieve it,Life and death seepInto the systemAnd curb the urge.

Kristopher Bryan

Lover

Do you hold himLike a lover?Satin handsOn his shape,He looks,Delicate.Your bodies turnIn unionSharing partsOf your gardens.You kiss himWith morning lips.You take his smell,His touch, taste,He’s warm.You use cushionsTo cover smiles.Your bodies restIn guardAnd your flesh Knows no space.

Kristopher Bryan

Spare Loose Change for Vietnam Veteran

Dust clingsFrom his whiskers,His frayed topHides his grimy tan,Grease pours with sweat,He stands with full gummy grin As his filthy tips clutchA wall of his home.Beg for our pity.

Starcry by Ashley Web

Kristopher Bryan

Tease

Shield my cross,Keep me pinned,Lessen your tease,Sweat breaksFrom elements.Press breath‘Til I beg,Tie your kissAcross my mouth,Study lipsWith tongue,Carve lusting stare,Rust of skinHollow in loving.

Jeff Caivano

blank canvas

minds of the young is a work of artpictures of hopesense of imaginationthoughts of infinityas the person with the paint I need to apply thick coatsrigid textures broad landscapesas the canvas, my paints shouldsmearmix stickwhat a mess will need more paint

Jeff Caivano

population control

Hazardous for your health, reads the decalon the side of the worn, lime, bucket,as dusty residue skims the surface of dutiful water.my undertaking reminds meof an episode of Hitchcock whena man drowns kittens, then kills his wife.married, i’m not.dad says we’re helping nature with her job. i wonder, what kind of mother,kills her young?he says it’s better then the alternative.i don’t know.if the roles were reversed, i would want to hear all my options.killing is wicked, they say,so i recite The Forgiveness Of Sins and tell myself they won’t see what’s coming.due to springtime heat,siblings that have never seen the sunlight,never will.

Jeff Caivano

the treasure map

a PLAYBOY

minus the articles;my life is an incomplete lie,

consumed with residue stained sheetsbare bottles full of broken promises and

DUNKIN DONUT women:that may look good butyou have to commit

to get a taste.

mute crickets fill the eveningreminding me of the emptiness required when pursuing the night women

tapioca legs, experienced hands, overused faceslike something you would see in a bad porno,

but not really.

i masturbate my mindto the sounds of SINATRA

putting myself someplace wherelove is like a being the customer rather the cook,

my server is every bad memory that haunts me…

and i am grateful.

feeling returns,could be the booze or mixed company

either waydesperation marks the territory

i inhabit tonight.

John Clark

Wasted Time

Watch a humming bird fly by And count the beats of wing You'll learn that he Of necessity Can't stop his work and sing.  

Time is still, yet time is gone, It never will return. To rush today And be on your way Paints scars that deeply burn.  

The peaceful walks, the quiet talks The hours of love and bliss Make here, today, The only way To know true happiness.  

Dream, for only dreams have No concept of boundary But don't forget Or live in regret. Embrace today, and be free.

Margie Dixon

Congruity

Plunging downInto colorless spaces,The untainted chasmsVerticallySeparating You, MeAnd parallel crests ofIndigo blue stripesOn bed sheets.

Jamaican Solitude by Megan Farrell

Margie Dixon

The Long Bus

To the front of the school bus, Comes Niles, backpack swinging One strap off, glasses thick and crooked.Scuffing feet, shoe laces untied.He freezes at the top of the steps.Horror stricken. Across the field, he Sees the dog-tree-stump. SnickersFrom the back when, up the drivewayComes mommy to pry him off.The “cazy kid.”Down the street, I smell gas, look upOut the window to see the metal, oldMan behind the house with the gaping Mouth, hunched back, always bending, Rowing, extracting.

Margie Dixon

Queen Anne’s Lace

Thousands of dancers and White tutus. Solos on Each tiny bloom. Pirouettes,Balancing acts invisible to theNaked eye. Sweet rocking Back and forth, the lacyFlat top cluster, the perfectStage performance unnoticed Among the weeds.

Nancy Donley

Only as Well as I Can

Arranging ribbonin Christmas bows, thumbsmultiply in my hands.

Talent must liein other spheres. Unless – I don’t have to do them as well as my gifted sister.

Nancy Donley

Random Thoughts

I.

I sit by the “Smoke Here” pillar, while blooddrips upstairs.

I don’t like free verse. But I found a poemin an essay, Psalms of the Bible remind – can’t dismisslines without rhyme.

II.

Watch a cold frontmove in, notisobars, clouds. A patch of blueescapes the gray.

Nancy Donley

Woody Hayes

Stinging wind, biting cold. She traipsed the viaduct in blue jeans and tennis shoes, a waist length black leather jacket, fake, and open at the neck. Red, not wool knitted gloves covered her hands and her muffler couldn’t. It looked like sheers hung at windows. A driver in the roadway stopped, asked her destination…half a mile distant. She had already walked two miles. Plans altered, the truck cab opened. The driver waited while she made her first stop, then to the bank to cash the check already costing too much for a guaranteed return. She spoke of her mother not wanting her to walk, but rent was due. She talked of her dream of a daycare in her home. Back in the truck, envelope overstuffed, she asked, “Can I bless you with twenty dollars?” “Pay it forward.”

Kellie Doty

I am from…

I am from Crabapple Farm and the land of the headless horseman

I am from the old Wheeler gatehouse and the Bob-Whites of the Glen

I am from Trixie, Honey, Brian, Mart, Jim, Diana, and DanAll wrapped up in a 5X7 perfect bound cover.

I am from a heatless, rust-orange Suburban and a heated leather seat AudiI am from a simple silver canoe on Hargus Lake and fluffy white clouds billowed with air skimming across glassy watersI am from sanguine and damask peonies that gently tumble

over the edges of the brass vase at St. Joseph’s saying I love you to family members I’ve never met.

I am from everywhere: I am from Helen Hutchley’s blue moon ice cream and great

uncle Paul’s name-saked elementary schoolI am from the creek under the acorn trees and across the bridge where I should not beI am from Green Gables and the little old lady with fire red hair and a hunch back who served grandma and I our chicken legs and hot tea. I am from the dirt red caprock dotted with sun-bleached coyote skulls and echoing the rattle of the pit viperI am from Brutus, crisp nights under stadium lights, and multi-colored days.I am from both sides of the tracks

I am from nowhere:

I am from lonely school halls that reverberate with laughter I am from a melting pot that no longer melts I am from dreams that have set and others that dance on the

horizon, still out of reachI am from Schloss Neuschwanstein in my mind but Auschwitz in my heartI am from memories I cannot recall about people who were

never apart of my lifeI am from Our Fathers and Hail Marys chanted to save my soulI am from that old rugged cross and distilling watersI am from the song of the redeemed, rising from the African

plain I am from my heavenly father, a precious gift created from dustAll wrapped up in gold-tipped flax and an embossed, brown

leather cover.

Kellie Doty

Rite of Passage

Chantilly lace and ice encase her raven fleshshe clutches Damask roses

flies swarm

New wig sits, braided chaplet upon her headMama’s teary eyed vigil wets russet soil

regu cbonsam anim ase

Dancers circle stomping lower lower lower lower

Drummers beating stretched skin hollow sounds echo singers’ criesregu cbonsam anim ase

Receiving circles send offyoung women’s soul short walk to family groundsconsummate the service

Africa’s Hope by Kellie Doty

Benjamin Elbert

Team Spirit

PLANNING      “Seriously, how much more immoral can you get? I’ve turned blind eyes to the pointless social hook-ups you all have had. And I didn’t say a word when one of you needed a ride home but were too drunk to even know whose bed you were in, let alone tell me how to get there. But this is something totally different. I’m not sure how the Pope would deal with us for this, but I imagine he’d make a special trip here just to shake his head shamefully at us. How do you even propose we – “      “Shut up Smiley. Don’t you have some hemp to braid or a nice tree to spend the night with?” Flex really could be a jerk.      “No, Flex,” Smiley retorted, “I think I’ll spend the night with Kate since she just dumped you!”      “Guys, can we at least get our planning out of the way before you two start your pitiful bickering? We need to figure out how we can do this, and do it with only three guys.” I knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but the three of us had pulled off some amazing things in our time. Two years ago, when Northside High had the logo at their fifty yard line changed from a Mustang horse to a rainbow colored unicorn – that was us. And last year, we drove a hundred and fifty miles just to replace the statues of the three wise men at Trinity Academy with a few garden gnomes we picked up at the dollar store. Trust me, those statues were no small task, but thankfully Trinity assumed the wise men were four feet

tall and just walked around on marble pedestals their entire lives. We actually felt we had done a service, because the school

decided to have new statues made that were, as the paper read, “more life like.” Sorry, I’m getting off topic.      You see, Flex, Smiley, and I grew up together: I’ve always been the smooth operator of the trio; Flex is the muscle; and Smiley the occasional spark of good ideas. When we were boys, the forming of this friendship just kind of happened because even though the three of us went to Hillridge Academy’s elementary school, we didn’t know each other until fate just took over. Even though we live in this modern day of equality and civil rights, kids can still be backwards of society – that was evident the day we saw Flex getting picked on for being the only African-American in our school. He was only seven and hadn’t developed into the muscle he is today, so Smiley and I intervened and sent his aggressors fleeing. Smiley was a weird kid, even back then, and I was from the family that actually laid claim to co-settling the town of Hillridge; but the three of us were inseparable after that day.      “Hey, Brody, are we gonna plan this or what?”      “Yeah, sorry, Smiley, just lost in thought. Ok, we need to get into Parish of Peace’s main hall, open the display case, and take the Staff of Virtue that is on display there. Remember, this thing is everything to them. The teams there bow and pray before it on game day. Boys, we aren’t just pulling a prank, we’re gonna destroy their hope.”      “Brody,” Smiley quietly asked, “are we going to go to jail for this?”     

 “Hopefully, we’ll pull this off the night before the State Championship, and then return the staff in a box on the front steps in the middle of the night after the game without ever being caught. Also, we can never talk of this. The glory will never be ours, only the personal pride we’ll have in helping our team.”

      “But, won’t they be more alert after we take it?” Flex questioned.      “Maybe, but guys, this is our last year to do something for this school. Tomorrow night we will meet here at ten o’clock, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna sit idly by and not help our boys win this game!”      The plan was simple: first, we would park about a half-mile from the rear of the school; then, we would make our way up the fire escape ladder on the back-side of the main building; next, Flex and I would enter through one of the skylights in the gym via a rope; and finally, once we were in, Smiley would pull the rope up and make his way back down the ladder. From there, the plan was going to be improvised since we didn’t know what kind of security or locks they would have for the Staff of Virtue. We did know however that Flex and I were going to exit through one of the ground floor windows, preferably one that was already unlocked.

“IT’S GO TIME”       Thankfully Smiley’s parents weren’t as environmentally concerned as he was, otherwise we had no clue where we would get an all-black gas guzzling SUV. When he pulled up to my house, Flex and I were already waiting out in my a

driveway. The twenty-five minute drive there seemed to drag on for eternity, and I’m pretty sure that every time we passed a police officer Smiley whimpered a little bit. Smiley hates doing these things, especially since he’s the slowest runner of the three of us and would be the first one caught. Yet he always came along; as he said, “The trio isn’t a trio without the third man – otherwise it’d be a duo; and that’s just weird.”      Getting inside of the building was far easier than any of us had imagined. The ladder went all the way from the roof down to the muddy ground, the skylight had a handle on the outside of it to

open the window, and there was even a sturdy pipe right next to the skylight that the rope could be tied to easily.      “It’s like God wants us to steal the Staff,” Smiley said under his breath.      “Shut the – I can’t believe you just – Brody, that’s it, man, we’re gonna die tonight!”      “Flex, stop being so superstitiously paranoid, and, Smiley, you stop saying stupid things that are gonna jinx us!” I should come to expect such things out of him, but I’m never any less surprised when those idiocies tumble out of his mouth. “I’ll go in first, and shine my light upward when I’m down and the coast is clear, got it?”      “Yeah, Brody, but I’ve never done this before.”      “Right, Flex. Because I break into buildings, repel down ropes, and steal artifacts all the time!”      “All I’m saying is what if I fall and get hurt, how would I get out of here?”      “That’s easy; I’d call the cops and tell them that a black man is trying to steal the Staff of Virtue.” I smiled big so he

knew I was kidding. I think me and Smiley were the only two who could ever get away with saying things like that to him.      “Funny; you’re just hilarious, Brody.”      When I finally made it down into the gym, I actually understood what Tom Sawyer must have felt like and why he always invented ways to make easy situations riskier. We were almost done with the operation, and so far it hadn’t been any more of a challenge than getting dressed in the dark. I shone my light up at the roof, and saw Flex apprehensively lower his body awkwardly into the opening. Two minutes later he was standing next to me smiling because he too felt it had been too easy. The rope levitated toward the skylight, and moments later the roof was back to its normal sealed self.      “Alright, where is this thing?”

      “I don’t know, Flex, maybe we should stop by the visitor’s desk. Even if we’re too late for the tour, I’m sure they’ll have maps to spell it out for us.”      “Brody, I swear, when we get out of here…just wait!”      Flex followed me out of the north entrance of the gym and down the wide corridor. When we reached a dead-end and had to choose left or right, I crouched and pressed against the left-hand wall, then slowly peered around the corner.      “Just ahead, along this wall is the case. I don’t see any cameras or alarms, looks like the school hasn’t been updated since the ‘50s.”      When we turned the corner and made our way towards the case, our footsteps became lighter and our breath was silent. Then there she was, the Staff of Virtue. At almost six

feet tall, she nearly towered over me. Gilded and decorated with silver inlay, she reflected all light with a mesmerizing radiance. We had done it; we were inches away from pulling off one of the greatest feats we had ever dreamed. I quickly examined the case and found there to be no alarm, and apparently no lock either. I couldn’t believe it; why in the world would they leave such a case unlocked. And then I saw it, an engraving on the marble stand beneath it:“Virtue is something that never needs to be done in secrecy at night.”       “Check it out, Flex. It’s like they put this engraving here to dissuade people from stealing it in the middle of the night.”      “Man, I told you. This is not right!”      “Flex, we can stand here and discuss this until the students get here in the morning and ask them about their moral convictions, or we can get this over with and maybe get some sleep tonight.”      Slowly, as my breath left my body, I put my hand on the glass and slid the door back. A momentary surge of guilt nearly made me turn back, but a silent ‘You can do this,’ pushed my hand

forward onto the Staff. For being so ornate and respected, I didn’t feel any overwhelming sense of power or anything when I held it. I just felt like I was holding an expensive stick. As Flex and I headed back towards the rear of the building to find a feasible exit, he stopped me.      “What if Hillridge still loses?”      “They won’t.”      “But what if they do?”

      “That’s not what this is about, Flex. This whole operation is to show our team spirit and how we’d sacrifice for Hillridge. Whether they win or lose, we’ve done our part.”      “I wish I was as passionate about life as you. Maybe that’s why Kate left me.”      “No, Flex, Kate left you because she couldn’t stop cheating on you.”      “What?”      “You didn’t know? It’s been going on for a while, at least a year I’d say.”      “We only dated for fourteen months!”      “Wow. Well, you’re better off, right? Let’s finish this.”      We never found a window that was unlocked, but we found something much better instead. At the back of the kitchen was a steel door which wasn’t locked, but as we were about to leave, my pride got the best of me. I grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled a message upon it:“ADT helps” It wasn’t the most creative thing I could have come up with, to this day even I think periodically of things that are cleverer, but I was on a schedule and had to think quickly.      By the time we made it home, the roads were empty and the street lights were flashing to alert minors that they should be in

their houses by now. Smiley was nervous that we somehow were going to get caught, but I reassured him that everything was fine and tonight would be a night for Hillridge. Flex looked at me in the car a couple of times, but mostly he just stared out the window; I could tell he was thinking about Kate. I don’t regret telling him, he never would

have gotten over her if I hadn’t said something and maybe tonight will help preoccupy his mind for a while.      Hillridge defeated Parish of Peace despite being a three touchdown underdog and playing Parish at home. In fact, for reasons unknown to most, Parish of Peace played absolutely terribly. While we were walking past the concession stand at the game we heard a few underclassmen from Parish talking about the missing Staff. I just laughed to myself and wondered if anyone had a clue that the Staff of Virtue was in a black SUV in their parking lot, fifty yards from where it rested two nights prior.

Show Pig by Kellie Doty

Elisa Gonzalez

First Valentine

I am saying valentineto you and you, to allthe world, all the dead menand women left in lipstick.I am saying valentineto the radio, singing heartsalive, to your hair when we kiss –like a thousand hungry minnowsswimming downmy arms. I am saying valentinetill the syllables splinteroff like bark. No soundmeans more than any other.I am saying valentinein silver shoestill you answer me, sayhow do you do, I’m hungry,here’s a song you can sing: loveis not only letting.

Elisa Gonzalez

Second Valentine

Be my valentine, be the oneI have to love: sayvalentine, val –en – tine, softsexed syllables splitlike shins or that godforsakenguilt, edged as old war wounds,shrapnel wrapped like chocolatein gold foil or skin. Oh,be my valentine, slip a songbetween my fingers –a little love song – saybeautiful like valentine:such sounds will dielike saints.

Elisa Gonzalez

Manifesto (Miss America Smile)

Give me the moon,hay, fresh-cut, the damnGolden Gate Bridge –I’ll give youall my pain, renderedlike fat or the surreal portrait

of a girl with eyes sharpas stalactites, mouthof a murderous crustacean.Come to me with a Miss Americasmile and goodwill, singingsongs about survival, come.Come.I’ll show you everythingthat’s left, the dark underneaththe scapula, sacrum, patella.I’ll show you what it meansto surviveinside out, to weara clavicle like costume jewelsand live like poisonedCleopatra, death coiledbetween my breasts.

Elissa Lee

Rocky Hills

Extensive landforms surrounding terrain, steeper is better, grand beauty.Conditions different from crown to root, the inhospitable, unique species on their sides. White-blanket on forest and meadow.

One side arid the other precipitous, stunning land-view,features astonishing. 

Elissa Lee

The Solpugid

It’s arid and dry where they lie. Scary, elusive, tan hiding in the grainThe fears wanting to eat what my heart beats forFor the chance to scare the bare ones.Solifugae long for your shadows to hide from the sunIn beds they hide in wide spaces to wait for the nightThey come out when the day is gone While you sleep they don’t make a sound. In the ergs, the urge of hunting in the sandboxBecomes greater as the seconds pass.

Christopher Lindsey

A Murder

Flying…-against the breath.Screaming…-into silence.Voices echo,The recent past.Only I hear the words:            of longing,            of despair,            of hatred,            in disgust.My wings of faith,-turned to dust.Existing…-without another.Welcoming…-the sting.Noises hum,

Thoughts decay the inside:            from longing,            from despair,            from hatred,            with disgust.My sense of love,-turned to lust.

Christopher Lindsey

Your Reflection

Under a blanket:      mirrored moon,      sparkling flakes of snow.…darkest desireburning the icy stream.Inside sleeping:      light of a shadow,      tide of a tear.…fiery crystalsravaging the rot.See-through-silver:      reflecting strands,      gold, lace, flesh, bone.…star-pierced eyesradiating their glow.Too lost to wonder…Too enchanted to care…I place you-In my empty room.

Brandon O’Neal

And All God’s People Say…

San Francisco

Kammy said that If she had a vagina, She’d use it to Crush glass in a sideshow. SaidIt was a trickShe learned from her granny, whoSpent six years in, And thirty years married, To the Carnival. He lover was a three-hundred pound Bearded-dyke who belched Pure garlic in an attempt to move Tickets.

Time devours allUntil he is full

Mediterranean Coast

Hey yo, Leeroy!You have got to keep an eyeOn these candidArchaeologists, brother. As they did up The past they will find the

Necessary Means for understanding our Present future. He was a strong source For knowledge, as he had seen the truth. But, as a disciple, He lacked the righteousness of a saint. Stand by.

Time devours allUntil he is full

Portsmouth, OH

Goddamned countryIs going to hell, I tellYou what. The gooks Are invading the river. Fucking slant-eyedSnakefish; claiming to be a Cat. And hell if They don’t eat them poor little Puppies, too. By God, I seen a report about it on The news. That and White People dying cause of some ChinkyBirdshit.

Murrayville-Victoria

Britannic Bay Blue Skies boast the moon’s progressOn silicone Shores. So far inland, thousand Constant miles Of gold, raked in lines. Hatched loom, Thatching doormatWipes of glowful end of moon bow. Treasured spectacleWas mande – Nature dissuades any thoughtHow it may. They were coming to inspect the dig today – Buried.

Time devours allUntil he is full

Brandon O’Neal

Portland East to Boise

In a night

The car is asleepEngine and driver revExhausting the spaceBetween here and the mesa.There is a glebe of lightsA lock of whiteWhat may be a naval fleetPut out to pastureOr a cluster of Earth-bound starsMade bright. Too far to tell. Caliginous summer Coasting down the mountainWas a basin Lousy with waterso briskly sinkingInto a well of beryl lightThe car breaks aliveRevived and tearing To meet the skyNotching its advanceOut of the couleeNerve wrings in the machineAs it bowls over brow.

Ashley Web

Outside

In This Issue

Kristopher Bryan Jeff CaivanoJohn Clark Margie Dixon Nancy DonleyKellie DotyBenjamin ElbertMegan Farrell Elisa GonzalezElissa Lee

Christopher LindseyBrandon O’Neal Ashley Web