Sabrina Martell Picture This

Picture This

Pale tears and a postal code in California All caught off guard when the tide comes. The dark, unobserved ocean waving its way shore— A view that demands response.

Between the Pages

for Diane and William

Between the pages of a book, I tuck this moment. Which book? One by Faulkner that I read in school, that changed my life, that rubbed my nose in art so rich and dark and strange, familiar as my mother’s scent, mysterious as a future wife. What is this moment? One of many that have passed and many that will come (I hope), the past and future pouring into “now” like wine from earthen jars admixed with tinctures of a windswept river—heady potion! Everything I’ve ever done, undone, or let be done, those moments pile like grains of sand, or coil, strung like diamonds, lifting me to now.

Bright sun and dark green shadows in the spruces, thud of a dribbled basketball next door, clock ticking on the desk, and two old friends, they’re writing, muted, here on Zoom. My wife is napping on the couch, her paperback facedown and rising, falling, rising. Coffee’s gone, too late for more. Too early for tonight’s mindbender. I and I, that’s it: A showdown on a Western movie backlot, square-jawed hero, shag-eared villain. Or two swirls of color: reds and blues and yellows of impression and emotion, plus the thousand grays of thought, smeared thickly on an artist’s palette, permeable as a mask.

Tender Hearted Women

confined by Pandemic are we come together each in her own lair we Zoom into the secret depths of deprivation, longing, revelation, joy and celebration offer quotes, quips that help us “get a grip” grateful are we that at least we can see into the souls of sister faces during this phase devoid of physical embraces

The Obvious Insect

We delicate vessels churning the foaming bug food through the internal city Drumbeats in chambers alive in wonderous noise Granule sends the clockwork spinning grinding, screaming to cessation Longing for those bakery mornings lake breeze maskless infinite sky The dance and dodge of ceaseless days Conquering the glorious pestilent growth of echoing humanity Then the peasant earth rises pitchfork and laser bathing away the obvious insect

Faizan Akheel is an aspiring computer science student who has traveled all the way to the US to achieve his dreams. Along with computer science, he also loves studying English!

Wijdan Al-Sayegh, a well-known Arab writer, teaches in the Middle East Studies department at the University of Michigan. Her areas of expertise include modern Arabic fiction, poetry, literary criticism, culture, and linguistics. She has published 24 books, three of which have won renowned Arab prizes.

Mae Armstrong is a creator. She is always looking for new ways to express her thoughts, ideas, and self through art. Learning is her trade, but creativity is her passion. She is currently finishing up a degree in Technical Communication at WCC and plans to transfer to the University of Michigan to study English and Political Science. She's passionate about her work helping people to improve their writing skills. She writes, "my advice to any aspiring creator is to find something you love––something to center your life around––and build off of it; let it inspire you."

Heather Barthell writes, "I graduated from WCC's Technical Communication program in May and decided to take a creative writing class to diversify my writing skills. My husband and son write poetry for me each birthday and Mother's Day. My son recently got new glasses. Coupled with his beard, he looks very similar to a photo portrait of my father when he was around the same age. This year, I decided to write a poem to both of them about all the fathers that came before us and the uncertain times they faced."

John A. Bullard is a poet who lives in Michigan.

William Bullard is a long-time WCC Poetry Club member.

Lily Chan is an EMU grad who is attending WCC part-time. She is currently working at an urgent care, testing for COVID-19, in the midst of this pandemic. Her utmost wish right now is for mundane

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life to return and for everyone to learn from this pandemic. She writes, "Let us cherish the simple things, family, and friends even more now while finding strength in each other, 6 feet apart."

Monica Cialek teaches math at Washtenaw Technical Middle College (WTMC).

Edith M. Croake writes, "I am honored to have taught at Washtenaw Community College from 1966-2008. Since then, I have been grateful to participate in various WCC classes and writing programs."

Rosalie Denenfeld has been writing poetry for over 60 years. She offers poetic messages of empathic insight, wrapped in sharp toothed humor. Even today she views the world as wonderfully hopeful, holding an enduring vision of peace for all life on the planet. Rosalie also expresses her vision through artwork, photography, energy healing and the creation and support of healthy families. Rosalie thanks Jas Obrecht for his encouragement and keen appreciation of poetry and poets.

E.S. is an engineering student and WCC alumnus who enjoys tinkering with words.

Alona Henig writes, "I graduated from the University of Michigan in May of 2019 with a BA in Environmental Studies and Spanish. I never took a creative writing class in college so this is a first for me. Before the pandemic hit, I was in Southeast Asia, 6 weeks into a year-long trip. Obviously, that had to end. Attached is a poem I wrote while in quarantine that (I hope) expresses how that felt for me."

Amy Higgins teaches composition, literature, and creative writing at WCC. She writes poetry, takes long pandemic walks with her dog, and despite being a lover of novelty and travel, she desires nothing more right now than a return to the most mundane and everyday routines imaginable. More than anything, she misses her colleagues and students.

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Diane M. Laboda is a former teacher-librarian and retired WCC executive assistant. She enjoys exploring life’s mysteries and sharing with others in her writing and artwork. She’s published poetry, short stories, articles, and photos in literary journals and anthologies both online and in print. She has published two chapbooks, Facing the Mirror and This Poet’s Journey, and is working on her first booklength collection of poetry on grief and care giving.

Sabrina Martell is a freshman at the University of Michigan, planning to study Philosophy, Politics, and Economics. She has been published in the WCC Poetry Club/Bailey Library anthology Lovesick and in two editions of the The Huron River Review.

Del Pritts is finishing up their first year at WCC, working towards an associates in Mathematics. They often write poetry and short prose, and enjoy painting.

Natalie Rinehardt worked as a tutor in WCC’s Writing Center.

Wanda Kay Sanders is a long-time WCC Poetry Club member.

Ayesha Syeda writes, "I am a third-year student at EMU and have the pleasure of working in Supply Chain at UMHS. Writing is my escape from reality and love doing it!"

Michael Thompson lives in Manchester, Michigan. He is a husband, father of three, and a part-time English instructor at Washtenaw Community College, Oakland Community College, and Jackson College.

Tyler Wettig resides in Michigan. His latest chapbook is The Adult Table. Tyler's website: https://www.tylerwettig.wordpress.com.

KD Williams is a writer of multiple genres, and an English instructor at WCC. Their work was honored in the Top 25 Glimmer Train Fiction Open 2018. Their creative nonfiction was shortlisted for the Frank McCourt Memoir Prize 2016. They earned a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing at Stony Brook University where they

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received the Stony Brook Short Fiction Award 2013-2014. But first, they attended the University of Michigan and were a recipient of a 2011 Undergraduate Short Fiction Hopwood Award which made them realize, “Maybe I can do this writing thing.” When they’re not writing or grading or thinking about writing or grading, they’re probably watching TV with their partner, two cats, and dog.

Tom Zimmerman teaches English and directs the Writing Center at WCC. In addition, he edits The Huron River Review and The Big Windows Review, and serves as faculty advisor of the WCC Poetry Club. https://thomaszimmerman.wordpress.com/

Appendix: Full Texts of the Poems Discussed in Wijdan Al-Sayegh’s “Birds and Poets” ___________________________________________________________________

Tom Zimmerman ________________________________________________

Birds

The bluejays, finches, wrens, and mourning doves that haunt our backyard prompt my wife to fill three feeders twice a week. The big and small, the bullies and the bullied, find a place, I like to think. The crows, my shadows, hoard their knowledge high, away, and I stay blind. My parents bought encyclopedias I read when I was young. Andean condors snagged me: carrion-eaters, wingspans bigger than a man, grim scythes that sharpen mountains, wingtips’ fingers charred by heaven’s smudge. Sweet angels nest such birds within, as birds do dinosaurs. Oh, let our minds embrace extinction and eternity, at peace.

The Birds Have Gone

I wonder where the birds have gone. They must be driven off by flash-bangs, pepper gas and rubber bullets. Their eardrums must be broken, wings tattered, eyes a-flood with tears.

Where have the birds gone? Have they been blown away by an overhead chopper, blinded by flood lights pointed directly at them? Perhaps their gentler nature warned them away long ago.

The birds have gone. High above the trees in bands of free-flight, flying from city to city, trying to find a place devoid of conscience, a place where comrades go home at curfew.

The birds are confused. They cannot find a street devoid of light, a perch devoid of thunder, a mouth that speaks no truth. Voices rise to meet them, drown them in resistance, insistence.

the birds branch out and linger. They see the fires die down, the cops line up—some take a knee, some shake a hand. The flock they tend like birds sing of justice. Their notes are pure, their voices unsteady, their hearts beating wildly.

The birds sing harmony from their perches, trill notes to the heroes and the sad. They beat their wings to clear the air and breathe a breath of hope that some below will live to honor ground where no monument stands, no words are drawn in letters that can be seen from heaven.

Wanda Kay Sanders ______________________________________________

Birds

I watched some wrens the other day as they flew back and forth between the trees. The male bird, larger, sang a loud song even as he landed again and again on the smaller female bird to mate. The female bird hoped from side to side and fluttered her wings almost in protest but remained silent. It was as if she had given up trying to fly away, as if she knew her protest would do no good, as if she had lost her voice of freedom from domination.

It made me think that women are often like that female wren. Our voices are silent at times in the midst of protest, unwilling to share our stories out of shame or fear. The Me Too movement made us more aware of the captivity we still face, the loss of our freedom to just be women. We have only just begun to speak out against the domination of our spirit over this.

And now women come together again – mothers, daughters, sisters, as we raise our voices in protest not against men this time but along side of them as we declare that Black Lives Matter. Our cry that the unnecessary violence be stopped and that those who misuse their authority be held accountable.

May we as women no longer stay silent against the injustice done to us by men or against people in our community. This is a time to link arms and let our song for peace be heard.

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