McKinney High School 1400 Wilson Creek Pkwy. McKinney, TX 75069
Vol. VII • 2020
Table of Con Literature emma dawson | A COMPANY WITH THE DEAD
1
william anderson | THE ORACLE
4
fallyn yang | A LONELY BUNGALOW
5
kahli galindez-gonzalez | MYSELF AND MY PERSON
6
genevieve hendrie | AMPLE ABLUTION
7
hayden winstead | THE FINAL DRIVE
9, 10
emily alejandre | A LOSING GAME
14
kyler copeland | ROOTED
18
gabriel hughes | MOUNTAIN
19
ntents ARTWORK katie cabana
2
cooper kelley
3
abygail lindblom
5
zoe smith
6
sarah moorehead
8
carly meek
11, 12
karlee benson
13
cooper kelley
15, 16
destiny carter
17
celso andrade
20
CO INS VER ID E C ART OV | b i ER an AR ca T | dia bia z nc a
dia
z
emma dawson
A COMPANY WITH THE DEAD They are ghosts. The ghost of beauty, The ghost of stateliness, The ghost of elegance, The ghost of pride, The ghost of frivolity, The ghost of youth, The ghost of age. They were not always ghosts, reminding us of what once was The optimist, the giver, the confidant, The unfavorable, the perverse, the pessimist. Taken by a knife clean enough to see her reflection, She was always able to grasp another’s attention, The one made of autonomous repugnant poisons stirred by vanity, The ghost of beauty. A born opportunist exploiting the ones beneath and young, Equipped with a carpenter’s belt only containing tools from the lowest ladder rung. To the one made of a tyrannical keenness, The ghost of stateliness.
1
Portrayed to others as neatly refined, Her unwavering appearance left others blind To the one made of ache and the glue used to put herself back together. The ghost of elegance. Hidden behind the facade of his ego, He smothers his opponents to spotlight his show. To the one made up of an inexorable mind, he is unable to guide his dignity aside. The ghost of pride. The pursuit of happiness without care and reason Always stayed the same regardless of season. To the one that loiters off ones closest bound to by loyalty. The ghost of frivolity. A class protected from the inevitable future like a gem, Crippled by a prejudiced grave society digs for them. To the one made of ignorance to the truth. The ghost of youth. A token tossed into the well in exchange for a wish, For a clock with gears to turn back from the abyss, To the one forever holding on to what once was but is now a sage. The ghost of age.
Artist KATIE CABANA
2
3
Artist COOPER KELLEY
william anderson
THE ORACLE within the smoke there is a dreamer what does he see when he sees you? if there’s a future of green and blue what of the ash, the char, the black? a strike of yellow in the gray is he the winter’s only gold? and when he warbles ancient threnodies what is his chorus about? tell us, passerine, is this the forest’s last seed?
4
fallyn yang
A LONELY BUNGALOW My heart was awakened by the first winter snow The dark birches swooped down low Reaching for the fluttering snowflakes Snowflakes like you, snowflakes that glow. The sun hid in its house of the sky Frost tipped over tall blades of rye The snow does an amazing thing you know It makes everything frozen in time. The snow is lovely I’ve heard And yes, this truth is not blurred However there’s an aching in my soul For I do miss the singing bird.
Artist ABYGAIL LINDBLOM
The wind carried sadness with it There was a feeling I couldn’t elicit To be true to myself There was a truth I must admit. My heart was awakened by the first winter snow And though it punctures like a sharp arrow I still wonder if the snow is closer to you Then I will ever be in this bungalow.
5
kahli galindez-gonzalez
6
MYSELF AND MY PERSON There are moments that I feel strong being on my own and it comforts me strengthens me. My body is supported by my shadow. There are moments when I feel so clearly alone when I’m by myself. If I were to stop at a red light but my person continued forward what would happen? It hasn’t happened but it doesn’t settle the question.
Artist ZOE SMITH
7 genevieve hendrie
AMPLE ABLUTION With her gray branches Stretching out to the horizon A reach, like a dying man Towards salvation
A baptismal shower Lifts her wilted Reaching branches up Towards the light
His perishable life Seeking for a belated buoyancy Just as her arms stretch
A light filled with god Is her salvation and promise A promise of those renewing rains And their eternal bestowed Shower of blessings
A lambent light lighting A rainless landscape scanning For life in all aspects The first dawn of a new life Undoes her expiration In time of rich rain
Now her luxuriant skin Flourishes bare and sweet Weathered yet new With roots planted deep within Piety
Artist SARAH MOOREHEAD
8
THE FINAL DRIVE
hayden winstead
9
he checked his mirror and saw a vivid image of what he was to very soon leave behind.
With every ounce of life left in him
He entered the ramp
he forcefully threw himself
and began to push his right foot
into the driver’s seat
slowly
of his dual cab 1500 pick-up.
and
He began to blare his music,
steadily
blocked out every possible noise
to the carpet beneath.
from the outside world,
The speedometer climbed
turned on his headlights,
slowly
and put it in drive.
and
He had a quarter tank of gas
very soon
and no money to replenish
rapidly.
what he had already lost.
He passed the city limit sign:
He intertwined his fingers
Population
across the steering wheel,
191,645.
rubbed his thumb across
-1
the smooth top
From his periferal
from where it had been worn
he had a glance of what
after long nights
his speedometer now read:
and early mornings,
100
and slowly pulled away
and still climbing.
after being parked for eternity
Now rapidly
or so it seemed.
and ferociously.
As he slowly pulled away
The beat-up Dodge
10 he sat inside
6 feet
had no comparison
in a wooden box
as to the damage
carried by his dad
inflicted upon his heart.
his uncle
His mind’s unrest.
his cousin
His body uneasy,
and his grandfather
there was no cure
as the remaining who cared
no comprehension
watched
as to how he had gotten where he
black
was now.
and
His vision became blurred from
empty.
blinding headlights
As he lay silently
foggy windshield
filled by rocks
puddles in his eyes .
soil
110
and weeds.
112
17-year-old dead
115.
after a collision over a bridge
There was no turning back.
barreled into traffic.
No stopping.
There was no stopping
1/8 tank of gas
in his eyes
5.6 miles to the gallon
but the cement wall
and billions of miles.
greeted him with open arms
He swore he needed to travel
a wide smile
just to outrun his mind.
and a voice saying,
There was no more running
“There’s no return.”
There was nowhere left to go except the only place he knew:
11 Artist CARLY MEEK
12
Artist KARLEE BENSON
13
emily alejandre
A LOSING GAME
14
Marriage
You were afraid to fly with me and left me in the dirt.
Noun
You turned your back to me when I needed you the most.
the legally or formally recognized union of two people as partners in a
A replacement made of plastic took my place next to you,
personal relationship.
an object that you found in the discounted lane
Till death do us part,
when you drove away from me and the issues.
a hollow promise you made to me on that special day.
I guess facing reality would have caused
You sugarcoated the bitter truth
for your pride to be put aside,
when problems started to rock our boat,
but that would have cause for you to
a ring of dust lays like a blanket on your side of the room.
lay bare and vulnerable to the world.
The shadow of your presence follows me,
A sensation you run away from.
Mocking me.
We tried to defeat all odds but that was hard,
I really thought we would make it,
for they were always stacked against us.
but I guess our fantasy and imaginations blinded us.
Just too naive to see all the signs.
From the crushing reality
that only the strongest and grounded, can spread their wings and fly to the end of the race.
15
Artist COOPER KELLEY
16
Artist DESTINY CARTER
17
18 kyler copeland
ROOTED I tend to find myself looking out the window
Sometimes the wind howls like wolves in the night
searching for the roses and violets
preying on every last petal
that sway in the wind.
but the roses and violets smell of resilience,
Their movements seem calculated,
their thorns sticking out as if to say
like they have been trained all their lives
they aren’t afraid to fight back.
to sway with the wind.
The battles are intense,
Back and forth
the stems bending and twisting with the wind
back and forth
like a dance routine they’ve been forced to do.
but no matter how much they sway
But the fight goes on
back and forth
back and forth
back and forth
back and forth
they never leave where they’re rooted.
and they never leave where they’re rooted.
19
gabriel hughes
MOUNTAIN I cannot move frozen with onyx eyes that peer at the mountain, I am ageless Many a day every day brave the mountain as does the sun and moon, I am eternal Endlessly they go knowing not which lies beyond, I am stone I cannot speak my questions with only a faceless face I can only wonder, I see only Could what seek be light could what they hold be a void, I see all They look at me they are aught but figures meant to climb the summit, I see sadness I cannot feel with a hollow body I have no heart to beat nor lungs to breathe, I know truths They dance in the sunlight joyfully though the moon brings them to tears, I know lies They kneel to me and they bow to me for naught the mountains is the arbiter, I know nothing We cannot know what lies beyond the mountain for we carve their own path, we are lost What does it tell us but traverse the mountain only to return anew, we are empty Could the purpose be to chase the light of the sun, we are human
We cannot tell the story of the mountain its truth beyond our knowing, we see despair Could the figure that sets its gaze toward the impossible summit know the truth, we see God The moon and sun go as they please perhaps they know the truth as well, we see Abyss We cannot stop the mountain’s journey is inevitable we must go onward, we know hope The light we seek we already hold but the mountain must be the key, we know life Though we look around and see only void light held by none, we know death Though the statue tells us one thing through the carvings in its flesh: In the moonlight which is always sad, as the light of the sun itself is—as the light called human life is—at its coming and going
Artist CELSO ANDRADE
20
21 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS To the staff, my long distance friends, Though we are apart, you will always be my family. You share my interests, my hopes, my dreams, and for that I love each and every one of you.
To Mrs. Thompson and Mrs. Christian, the biggest supporters I’ve ever had, I went into this year knowing it would be different. No one could have predicted exactly how different it would be, but even now, as I’m writing this in pajamas at 4 in the afternoon instead of in a classroom surrounded by my peers, I have absolutely no regrets about the decisions I made leading up to this point, because of the solid foundation and guidance the the two of you have given me. Throughout this global pandemic, you two have been supportive and patient through technical and even emotional difficulties, and for that I am thoroughly grateful. These will be memories I cherish, because The Lost Art gave me something to look forward to in an otherwise bleak and dreary period in time. Thank you for fueling my creativity, and thank you for a fantastic year.
COLOPHON The Lost Art was produced using Adobe InDesign CC, Adobe Photoshop CC, and Adobe Illustrator CC. We chose NEON font for our main titles and we used the Okta Neue font family, which included Black Italic for our artist names and UltraLight for our body text, piece titles, and author names.
22
editors karla aguirre-raigoso bianca diaz
STAFF iliana flores kacie herrington kyra hewitt isabella kelley america licea dwayne mahlamvana jason mathai
i v ad
s r se ian
ist hr c on ps lin t i m o ka th e ty ka
jaina richardson chaylasia royal izayah sandoval nathan unsted annie xia