Lux Fa l l 2 0 1 7
LUX 2017
lux.bard.@gmail.com
Contents 01
B lue c o l lar D re a m s
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C lo ud R en t
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T h e D ream We a ve r s
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C alif o r n ia
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Noh a n Me z a
Madi son K a h n Noh a n Me z a
Madi son K a h n
D r aw in g
M ar i n a Ya n g
S o L on g
Madi son K a h n
“If my doctor told me I had only six minutes to live, I wouldn’t brood. I’d type a little faster.” - Isaac Asimov
C o n t r i b u t o r s Ed i to r in C h i e f Clar a Gr if fi n
A s s oc i ate Edi to r s
Amelia Van D ons e l K at e B uet t ne r M ar in a Ya ng Hel li Fang L ayo ut
A van i Fac h o n
Blue Collar Dreams B y Noh a n M e z a
H a r ve s t tim e los t in t he skies B u ildin g s r is e like pa le dead men I n c on c re te room s th e y wait like hens G old e g g s s tole n , c h a n ged f or lies Ye t th e win dow s h ows esc ape If we c ould ta ke win g and fl y L ike s ic k birds with f e ver high Me lte d win g s h a ve c ul led our fat e. O ut th e win dow we l ook on. We pre te n d th in g s wil l be fine. S owe d a future lon g s ince gone, O u r De a th c urs e d by a plast ic sun.
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C lo ud R e n t B y M adis on K a hn
c lim b th roug h th e window put down th e s h o vel bur y my s e lf in s and a wor ld n e w a n d s inged s in g in g with th e b irds i c a n fl y i c a n dance boxe d in to a c h os e n cor ner i ’ve live d a th ous a n d lives fire on th e wind jumpin g ac ros s h ig h way s a n d r ivers on top of your s h oulders we le a p frog th e ocean if i s quin t i c a n not s e e th e e dge s th e pa pe r tum bling o ve r its e lf a s it bur ns but from th e ba lcony a fa m ilia r voic e c a l ls out a fu t u r e c rafte d i n fa lse r e ali ti e s d oe s not lend i ts elf to c onte ntment in s te ad it be g in s to eat a way a t your to es fil ls you up to your knees i t ’s a lmos t a t your c h est w hen you fin d th e n e xt w indow
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a f u t u r e c ra f te d i n fals e r ea l i t i e s d oe s not le nd it sel f to c o n te n tm e nt
”
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The Dream We a v e r s B y Noh a n M e z a
I m e t th e m on c e, th e D re am Weavers. Th re e old ladie s in r a g s m ade out of et her. B y th e m I wa s told Th a t I wa s old. Ye t I c ouldn’t s ee H ow th a t c ould be. B u t I m e t th e m on c e, th e D ream Weavers Th os e ladie s in r ags L ooke d more like ol d hags, S pin n in g a s tr ing, Th in , tout, a n d g r im. An d I a s ke d, re la xe d, f or I s a w no D reamers, H ow c o uld th e s e h a g s , be th e D ream Weavers. An d th e y a n s we re d t o me, “ We a re n ot wh o you see. Mo i r a i, Pa rc ae, Nor n s , a nd Mat rones We a re a l l th e s a me ones An d our da ug h te rs a nd sons Wa l k t h e E a r th , from bir th , a n d become belie vers On c e t h e ir s tr in g is c ut, by th e D ream Weavers.
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“ S o yo u se e m y c h ild, we a re the D ream Weavers, An d a d re am we we a ve, f or we a re generous givers. We a re th e dre a m e rs of lif e, An d we fil l it with st r if e. For a g if t s o free Could n ot be with out spice, S pi c e m ade of lie s , from th e D ream Weavers. � S o I m e t th e m on c e, th e th ree lif e weavers. T h e se o l d ladie s in r a g s , th e s e three deat h givers. B ut th e n I s a w th a t the st r ing H ad be e n s pun to the br im. W ith a m o ve it was cut An d I f e lt m y h e a r t shut . I b e l i e ve d t h e m , th e n , f or th e y we re t he D ream Weavers.
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a s t he sal t pol i sh e s m y si des r e m o ve s e ve r y bl e mi sh a n d sc a r
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i r ea l iz e h o w mu ch i l o ve to be ja g ged
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California B y M adis on K a hn
g la s s th rown in to th e pacific s lowl y los in g e dge s a nd sides tur n in g o ve r a n d o ve r and o ver a ga in s t m y wil l be c oming smoot h t he oc e a n i lo ve h a s tur ned on me or n e ve r c a re d to be gin wit h a s th e s a lt polis h e s my sides re m o ve s e ve r y ble mis h and sc ar i re aliz e h ow muc h i lo ve t o be jagged ye l low lig h t filte rs d own t o g re e t me a s i lay fr a gment ed fis h a n d f e e t e xa m ine me i ’m out of th e s and a n d un de r a g a in th os e m il lion tiny par t ic les e n d le s s l y c o ve r in g a n d releasing me we re on c e roc k a n d g la s s and st one i f i d on’t le a ve th is plac e s oon i ’ l l cr umble
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M a r i n a Ya n g
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So Long B y M adis on K a hn
wh ile you tr ac e d pa t t er ns s o ge n tl y ac ros s my skin with m y h e ad in your lap a n d m y f e e t da n g lin g off t he t w in x l i c ouldn’t h e lp but not ice our words la ug h s touc h fit toge th e r m a r ve lousl y outs ide un a n im ousl y a te n uous wa r m t h ge n tl y s h ook lif e from a lon g s le ep a n d i s ta r te d to wonder if you we re th e one pul lin g th e tide of c old bac k th e s e c on d tim e i realiz ed it wa s a l l me st a n din g a t th e e dge of a war m lake pul lin g off c loth e s s kin sc ars s o muc h of wh a t i wa s and am i un c o ve re d a n d le t sink i n th e c r ic ke ts h a z e a n d yel low sky g l itte r in g wa te r a n d s unset moon i sw a m to th e c e n te r a n d shat t ered
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a nd s in c e your h e a r t be a t remained a m e tron om e be s ide mine I took a bre a th a n d do ve i nto your e ye lids a n d your ar ms a n d th e n a pe of you r nec k i s n uc k in s ide your pu pils and got los t be h in d your kneec aps n ow it ’s be e n a lon g w hile wa lkin g pa s t wis h in g wel ls s pe n din g tim e in e le vat ors but in a f e w s h or t day s i ’ l l fin a l l y be c om in g home s o lon g un til tomorrow i kn ow n ow to s wim both a bo ve a n d un der neat h t h e oppos ite ba n k is c oming int o vie w th e s ky be g in n n in g to light en a n d th e a lg ae c re e pi ng up be n e a th m y toe s again
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Note from the Editor Dear Readers,
T hank yo u f o r pic k ing up w hat is t he c u l m in a tion of m y work b ei ng an fi rs t t ime edit or- in- c hief. Na tu r a l l y, I h ol d a s p ec i a l re ve rence f or t his issue bec ause of th a t fact a n d a m o ve r j oye d to b e ab l e t o share many of t he in s p ir a tion a l p oe m s a n d ar t p i e ces that enc apsulat e so muc h w ith s o f e w word s in s id e t hese co vers. T hi s i s s ue b r ings w it h it a mur mur i n th e d a rk of a s m a l l g ro up o f vo i ces gat her ing, building t h e m s e l ve s in to cr ie s of t r i um ph o ve r t he ordinar y moment s of l if e, tu r n in g th e m i nto the e x tr aordinar y. I n “ Blue C ol la r D re a m s ” , th e h a r ve s t, t y p i c al l y a ti m e of bount y and plent it u d e is tr a n s f or m e d in to a me lanc ho l y s t at e of t empor alit y. A on ce v ib r a n t l a n d s c a p e is c harge d wi th t he sic k ness of t he enc roac h in g w in te r a h e ad . R e ad onward s a nd you wil l find a re- bi r th of th e n a tu r a l c yc l e a wi nd ow o p ens t o an oceanic dream-l ike wor l d of e n d l e s s p o s s i b i li t y. A sic k bird breat hes ne w l if e a n d s in g s . An d a r u s h o f e phem er al energ y r ac ing t hrou g h on e w in d ow in to th e ne x t le ad s us t o t he “ D ream Weavers” w h o h a r n e s s th e p owe r o f nat ure o ver lif e, livel y a s it m ay b e. At the fi nal rest ing point of t he cont r ib u tion s we w is h to l ay out b e f o re you, an w r it er t ak es a j our n e y u n d e r a tu r b u l e n t s ea o f m em o r ies. S he is c aught in a tr a n ce of th e u n re l e n ti ng b e aut y f ound in t he fr agment ed e te r n it y of tim e. On a fi n al no te, an ar t ist sk et c hes a buildin g s u r rou n d e d by tre e s i n c harco al on roughl y edged, brown p a p e r. You n g b r a n c h e s re ac h toward s faint blac k c louds, a por tr a it of l if e a n d d e a th . I wo uld no t have been able t o c ompil e th is work w ith ou t t h e g re at help of my f el low edit ors wh o I a m ce r ta in h a ve a s muc h hear t f or t his magazine as I do. An d m y s in ce re a ppre ci ati on go es out t o you, reader, f or p a u s in g th e e ve r yd ay nuances of your lif e t o read alon g s id e w ith u s . B est w ishes, C lar a G r iffin