Art and Design Commons^™

An Open Letter, Frances Shemelson

Manuscripts

Dear Frank:-
You always were a tall girl in comparison with others your age. I remember you when you were eight-rather skinny, extremely long-legged, and long brown curls, not the warm vibrant brown of an autumn leaf, but a plain ordinary brown which was very common. And you haven't changed a bit, except to shoot up to five feet nine inches, and you've lost your long curls. You are still comparatively tall, still have those long legs, and that ordinary brown hair. And your eyes - they still look as if you had rubbed them too far into your face. …

Two Pilots Of The Silver Wing, Robert L. Harris

Manuscripts

"She's ridin' high, okay."
"Yeah! Look down there!"
"What is it?"
"Can't make out?"
"Looks like a city 'bout a mile away.
Let's pull her 'round a bit!"
"Okay!"
"Down closer.
Not so steep!
Too steep!"
"There, pull her up a bit.
That's it."
"Yep, she's a city, big one too I'd guess."
"Looks kind'a dark.
So dark and dreary."
"Naw, just a fog.
Lift her up a bit."

Days' Ends, Rachel Whelan

Manuscripts

With shadow fingers of yellow and rose, Dusk slowly touches the marshland changing mucky water to molten gold, and dull green reeds to crimson spears. The golden wavelets dance and whisper to each other while the reeds bend and sway to overhear their secrets. Dusk holds her breath. Upon the mirror surface poises a dragonfly with silken wings motionless, an elfin airliner. With a final flap of wings the march bird glides to her well-concealed nest. A green striped snake slips silently and ominously through sand and seaweed disappearing into the silent ripples. Finally all is still as a moment …

Utopian Ideas And Everyman, Elizabeth Clark

Manuscripts

This isn't my house, nor his house; no, it isn't your house either. It belongs to us. When I live in it, it's mine; and when I move away it's his and then yours. By rights, it is Everyman's. The fields in back of the house that I have planned so carefully, and the young green things shooting up in them are not mine. I did the work, yes, it was my turn to do it. But that doesn't make the fields nor the crop mine. It too is Everyman's. Next month when I leave this house and the fields …

The Old Market Woman, Jean Bowden

Manuscripts

A conservative air envelopes the old market woman. Her small oval face, deeply lined with wrinkles, is strikingly set off by the brilliant sparkle of her dark eyes. Her slightly rounded nose protrudes just enough to lend a small particle of curiousity to her determined facial expression. Her sunken cheeks add some noticeable shadows to her rough skin. Three deep wrinkles encircle her neck as an adornment of age. A thin horizontal crevice forms her firm mouth, which only supports her reserved personality. She is sitting quietly; perhaps, she is waiting for a passer-by to purchase the last of her …

Question On A Bus, Jack T. Kilgore

Manuscripts

"May I - ," George cleared his throat. "I wonder if I could take Jean to the show with me tonight." His words were engulfed by the silence that spread over the table. "(Why doesn't somebody say something'? They can't say no, they just can't. What are they waiting for?) I wouldn't be in late and there is no school tomorrow."

The mother looked up and smiled, and looked to the father for the first word. He said, "Jean who?"

"Jean Newcomb. She is in my English class. (And she smiles when she looks at me, and when she smiles …

The Awakening, Harriet Bishop

Manuscripts

And there I stood, a useless, living form
With roughened hands in worn out pockets pushed
And felt some force, not mine, had changed my will,
I turned my face up toward a darkened night.
There at my feet was spread an ancient world,
While high above there whirled a universe;
And far within the depths of treasured years
Strange, kindly voices dimmed the call of space.
For far below was all that used to be
While out in space stood life's futurity.

Felice, Marijane Badger

Manuscripts

I had been working hard all summer. When my vacation finally came, I decided to get "away from it all" and rented a cabin on a small lake. I arrived at the resort in the late afternoon of a warm September day. The lake was choppy and angry, little waves slapped at the shore.

"You should have come up sooner, Miss Morgan, we had a lovely summer. All of the vacationers are gone now, although we have a man in the cabin next to yours. I didn't think you would want to be left absolutely alone. He won't bother you, …

The Blind Man, Helen E. Hughes

Manuscripts

I know you as you walk among my rooms,
Your head turned thus, your shoulders moving so,
Your hands made busy with the sound of brooms,
The many little tasks that women know.
Dear brilliant lady, as you come and go,
Is light lent to my days. In you I find
A roof against the rain-let winter blow!
Look on me, love, with kindness; for my mind,
My heart, my searching hands that clasp you-are
not blind.

Tradition, Mary M. Schortemeter

Manuscripts

Katherine Schneider Sat in the large, ugly, black leather chair that stood by the parlor window. She touched the worn chair arms with hesitant, reverential fingers. This had been Papa's chair, and now he was gone. All she had left was the square oil portrait so faded from the suns of many years that she could scarcely define the stern lines of his German face.

She lifted her eyes to Papa's picture and saw how stubborn was his chin, how coldly keen were his eyes. He always looked just that same way, she knew. He never changed anything. He never …

They, Inc., Jeanne Gass

Manuscripts

"Well, look who's here. Our new tenderfoot himself." Abby eased gently into the big wine-colored chair.
The man across the room scowled and fiddled with his hands and looked at the floor.
Emmie sighed ever so slightly. "I told them we could handle this assignment ourselves."
The man muttered. "Well. This was an important case."
Abby sniffed delicately. Emmie put her hand up' to her mouth and whispered, "It's all right, Abby. They probably had to give him something to keep him busy. He won't hurt anything."
"Mustn't have professional jealousy, you know," the man added defensively.

After Diana, Mary Wiley

Manuscripts

The clink of coffee-cups is pleasant here.
See, I have drawn the curtains fast, and shut
The moon's distracting light from our bright hearth.
Your grave brown warmth is heightened so
And I do not remember with such pain how sweet
The star's carress falls on the traveller's face,
When first he lifts it up to worship them.

The Concert, Joseph Berry

Manuscripts

The small, quiet man sat before a great sparkling mirror and swore quietly as he rubbed prodigious quantities of rouge onto his sallow complexion. He surveyed his rosy cheeks in the glass, stood erect and made a mocking bow, very deeply, very slowly.

"And you also, you ass? I'm extremely delighted to hear you say so. Really, you're too kind. Really. Why, it couldn't have been that fine, you're just flattering me. You fool, you wouldn't know a bow from a mute. All you ever look at is my shoes. 'Performance in proportion to square of brilliance.' Is my tie …

Volume 9, Issue 1: Full Issue

Manuscripts

Full issue of the March 2014 issue of Manuscripts. Includes work by: Joseph Berry, Mary Wiley, Jeanne Gass, John Ross, Mary Margrette Schortemeier, Helen Hughes, Jean Pastor, Marijane Badger, Hariet Bishop, Jack Kilgore, Jean Bowden, Dean Wildman, Elizabeth Clark, Rachel Whelan, Robert L. Harris, Ed McNamara, Frances Shemelson, Josephine Rosenfeld, Geraldine Staley, Tom Wagle, Keith White, Betty Lee Snyder, James Hawekotte, Riley Sullivan, Ardath Weigler, John Rock, and Jim Mitchell.

The Lantern, 2013-2014, Isabella Esser Munera, Rayna Nunes, Blaise Laramee, Chukyi Kyaping, Bobbi Stone, Erica Gorenberg, Anne Rus, Dana Kluchinski, Arthur Robinson, Emily Duffy, Jane Lee, Leah Garrity, Brian Thomas, Michele Snead, Melanee Piskai, Chloe Kekovic, Kevin Moore, Codey Young, Dominick Knowles, Richard Schulz, Quinn Gilman-Forlini, Collin Takita, Amanda Sierzega, Mara Koren, Epiphany Summers, Caitlin Jackson, Benjamin Jones, Joshua Hopkins-Desantis, Rebecca Galarza, Kelsey Knowles, Aubrey Atkinson, Michael Heimbaugh, Sophie Zander, Kendal Conrad, Nora Sternlof, Henry Willshire, Elijah Kineg, Joshua Hoffman, Maxwell Bicking, Andrew Tran, Arthur Robinson, Nicolas Shandera, Grace Buchele Mineta, Meaghan Geatens, Nina Petry, Sean Dolan, Kayla Sallada '17, Sam Cermignano

The Lantern Literary Magazines, 1933 to Present

• Strikes
• Pietro di Venezia
• To the Lover of Small Things
• Jim's Big Day
• Akademiks
• Redamancy
• A Love Poem for Arctia Caja
• Mother River
• The Lyrics to Your Song
• Nerves
• Gemini Season
• White Interface
• The Last Time I Played with Dolls
• The Mechanic
• My Goldfish
• Put Down Your Hammer
• Strip
• Hollywood
• Identity
• The Grey Zone
• Sophia
• When I Became a Poet
• Unbroken
• The Veteran Aeronaut
• I Have Running Water but They had the Stars
• Not …

Volume 9, Issue 2: Full Issue

Manuscripts

Full issue of the January 1942 issue of Manuscripts. Includes work by: Joan Fuller, Jack Kilgore, Fred W. Michel, Betty Murnan, Isadore Camhi, Mary Wiley, Jeanne Gass, Alfred Brown, Ione Colligan, Jack Retherford, Catherine Cunningham, R. Gordon Moores, Alice J. Fisher, Norma Jackson, Thelma De Boer, Betty Lee Snyder, John Gumerson, Richard Jowitt, William Hickson, Bob Harris, Rachel Whelan, Edward N. Redfield, Anshelm Schultzberg, Willard L. Metcalf, and John Bundy.

Dictator, Rachel Whelan

Manuscripts

We stood between the giant columns of the mighty triumphal arch high above the riotous crowd of rejoicing people. Three of us, the spokesman, Comrade Jones, and I, stood on the decorated platform waiting for the cheering to cease, for the bands to stop playing, for some semblance of order so that the ceremony might begin.

Lights Out, Thelma De Boer

Manuscripts

One night two lightning bugs were resting on the same twig. The first lightning bug introduced himself and started the conversation.

Rhapsodically Speaking, Alice Jean Fisher

Manuscripts

Like timid pizzicatos riding a sustained legato, the cricket sounds outside my window are cradling themselves in the fused night noises. Rising in gentle crescendos above them are waves of wind; now they waken the leaves; soft bits of breeze sift through screen and curtain to move a curl across my cheek - shyly, like a child fearfully touching a dog; and shyly too, retire till the now tremulous vibrato of the crickets plays the nocturnal solo once more. The wind mounts again. It throbs against these brick walls; rudely musses my hair, disturbing my thoughts; the sleeper on the …

Gardenia Memories, R. Gordon Moores

Manuscripts

A dazzling stream of golden morning sunlight slants between claret coloured drapes to touch three gardenias on a mahogany dressing table.

Marbles, Ione Colligan

Manuscripts

Jerry thought a moment. Then "I can't remember any memory verse from last Thunday. If I'm not absent any Thunday this quarter, will I get a bag of marbles?"

The Sisters, Jeanne Gass

Manuscripts

"Kathy! Kathy! There's horses down there. Right down there by the river!" Pete came running, red pig-tails flying. Her old brown coat was slipping off one shoulder, her rolled stockings were drooping, and she was breathless with running and the excitement of her news. "There're right down there."

Aesthetic Pleasure, Betty Murnan

Manuscripts

Kitty looked skeptically at the tall soda glass in her left hand. It wasn't too shiny, so she dropped it into the dish water - not that she was particular - but sodas were her specialty. There was nothing she liked better than watching a soda bubble up in a tall glass. She took another glass from the shelf behind her, jerked just the right amount of chocolate syrup into it, tipped it sideways, and ran a thin, hard stream of carbonated water clear around the edge of the syrup until it bubbled nearly up to the rim of the …

Prophecy, Joan Fuller

Manuscripts

It was in the days of the great wars when tyrants and despots were conquering the world and all peoples were ground into the earth. And it happened that signs and portents of disaster began to be apparent in all places. There were storms upon the sun and great spots, and on the earth explosions and eruptions of mountains and risings of the sea in great waves and many storms on sea and on land. And at that time prophets began to arise, Jews and Gentiles, old men and young, and women And they all began to prophesy the end …

Volume 79, Issue 1: Full Issue

Manuscripts

Full issue of the March 2014 issue of Manuscripts. Includes work by: Bob Barrick, Tommy O'Rourke, Earl Townsend, Cassidy Olson, Wesley Sexton, Ritz Davison, Ella Paul, Maggie Carey, Jillian Wanbaugh, Donald Bradley, and Katie Johnson.

Thumbnails, Katie Johnson

Manuscripts

The test group was comprised of thirty children chosen in infancy: all unwanted pregnancies that would have been wasted in public institutions far inferior to ours, without the extensive opportunities for education, for progress. The children required no mothers in our program. Had they ever wished to know their origins, they might have perused the metal file cabinet in which all of their files were kept, right down to the looping signatures of the women who had signed their lives to us. They never did; they were taught better, instructed that origins were of little consequence when compared with the …

Reaching Lilly, Jillian Wanbaugh

Manuscripts

The trees were bare, twisting around themselves in a lifeless way. Some leaned, almost sagging with agony, while the rest remained erect, giving only the illusion of vigor. There were six of them; six black, dead trees forming a circle around her grave. Each wailed as the wind thrashed at their degenerate forms. Winter had eradicated autumn, mercilessly ravishing the land of all viability.

Carmelia, Tommy O'Rourke

Manuscripts

Carmelia constantly confused the little hairs on her knuckles for tiny fuses leading to the bottle rocket of her soul. She burnt her fingers bald and even singed some skin into rust blotches with the extra-large matchsticks she used to light her Lucky Strikes. Her fingers were always fiddling with the rosary dangling around her neck, which she constructed in the 7th grade using nothing but speaker wire and cigarette butts, both stolen from her father, like her grey-violet eyes. As she danced, her pupils dilated. The booming music. The record player pushed its needle into to vinyl to make …

Volume 4, Issue 2: Full Issue

Manuscripts

Full issue of the January 1937 issue of Manuscripts. Includes work by Wayne Hill, Margaret Pierson, Elizabeth Messick, Margaret Kendall, Mary Burrin, Grace Ferguson, Betty Richart, Charles Aufderheide, Dorothy Steinmeier, Mars B. Ferrell, Cathryn Smith, Ruth Marie Hamill, Phillipa Schreiber, Robert Ayers, Marguerite Ellis, Wilbur Elliot, Margaret Parrish, William Steinmetz, Glenn White, Jack Howard, Richard Joyce, Anne Horne, Dave Craycraft, Charles Hostetter, Ralph W. Morgan, Louise Ryman, Norman Bicking, Dorothy Schilling, Mildred Barnhill, and Marion Swann.

Mistake By Noah, Louise Ryman

Manuscripts

It might have changed history -- but it didn't.

Noah was happy. A home-loving body was Noah, content with his lot. He had his wife, and he had his pigs. He had his garden an a house full of in-laws.