Art and Design Commons^™

From My Mouth To God's Ear, Aiyana Beck

The Tuxedo Archives

From my mouth to god’s ears
I cry with tears
Save him, save me
Save us for a sad world indeed
A world where a whole is spilt in halves
And a child cries for his dad ~excerpt from poem

Tongue Twisting Word Listing, Alex Ward

The Tuxedo Archives

I’m Tall like Bunyan, Pierce, and Gasol,
I’m white like Wall, but my names not Paul,
unfortunate fortune tellers break their crystal ball,
Peter Piper picked a patch, cabbage patch doll,
wicked wizardry words slippery like lotion ~excerpt from poem

The Gladiatrix, Heather Soderquist

The Tuxedo Archives

Birth me mother, please, in silence
For I’ll know no tranquil world.
Only then will life be peaceful
For I’m a rebel girl. ~excerpt from poem

Sir Gerstle's Fowl Lament, Vicki Thomson

The Tuxedo Archives

Do you hear gobbles from a haunted voice?
Feather cape, swan-like neck, on stage no more-
I, Sir Gerstle, gallant turkey, hero,
Swashbuckling star of street studded drama,
Deceased. Thespian whose sharp crimson beak
And golden feet, leaped, fencing and dashing,
Darting between moving cars, trucks, and bikes
Earning their wrath while I gave you a laugh,
Aviary Aristophanes –gone. ~excerpt from poem

Background, Eugene Rinehart

The Tuxedo Archives

Dad stands in the back aisle

And smiles

I know, he prefers it that way

To being up front and

Not having a good time. ~excerpt from poem

Unfolding, Julie Muskat

The Tuxedo Archives

All the beauty in the world is contained in a grain of sand.
Once a rock, a shell, a bone
Tumbled by history
Tossed through the sea
Atoms traveling, changing, constantly evolving
Forever creating
New forms ~excerpt from poem

Haitian Bitch, Sukey Lewis

The Tuxedo Archives

Destruction of my substructure by stressed plates,
Some voo-doo curse laid it on—deconstructing my
Already worn-out, washed-up, ruined heap some called infrastructure.
Why? Too much bad blood, buried bones.
Lost babies, lost mamas, lost—
Nothing new, but nasty all the same. ~excerpt from poem

And On The 7.0 Day, He Rested, Janelle Harris

The Tuxedo Archives

The ground merely twitched at first.
A slight hiccup really.
I thought I had tripped,
Lost equilibrium for just a moment.
The ground bellowed next.
A roar really. ~excerpt from poem

The Harbor, Stephen Dalton

The Tuxedo Archives

I’ve slid across the bow,
slick with settling mist,
and dropped through the hatch
into the bunk below. ~excerpt from poem

With Death's Cousin, Pastor Bejinez

The Tuxedo Archives

I see her blood relation to death, in the wrinkles of her forehead,
Yet, I want her.
Her heavy breath, lingers out, over her damp lips
And E
C
H
O
E
S
A soft invitation, through my mind.
She slowly pulls me, closer to her smooth, magazine face
With her hypnotic, inhaled breath, full of mystery. ~excerpt from poem

Another's Plate, Pastor Bejinez

The Tuxedo Archives

She’s the mother of four
Chirping and screaming
Children.
None are his own
Though he wishes
They were. ~excerpt from poem

Jack In The Box, Laura L. Reiche

The Tuxedo Archives

Behold the bloodless puppet rising
out a cheap quadrangular man-hole.
Fluorescent mandarin hair forming
a deceptive heart around alabaster skin,
framing his daisy petal eyes, his pink colossal nose,
and boomerang mouth.

~excerpt from poem

Doors, Laura L. Reiche

The Tuxedo Archives

Staunch sentries of decision

gloating and imposing

tempting and untrustworthy. ~excerpt from poem

No Drunken Frenzy, Kimberly Satterfield

The Tuxedo Archives

Chatter of cedar waxwings

is shrill this morning.

Must be fifty crested visitors,

scarlet-russet-gold breasts

glint iridescent. ~excerpt from the poem

Spin The Bottle, Jennifer Curtin

The Tuxedo Archives

A bottle turns feverishly on its side

a compass searching north, east, west, yes

pointedly at a predestined angel

of crackled lips and sweaty pits

A tender moment of locked eyes searching

the other’s approval and first move

for the fated instant~excerpt from the poem

Applications For Dummies, Carla M. Sanchez

First-Gen Voices: Creative and Critical Narratives on the First-Generation College Experience

This poem discusses the overwhelming pressure that is put on students to justify their right to be admitted into universities or to receive scholarships based on their extracurricular activities. Many working-class, first-generation college students are unable to participate in organizations and programs that offer students a more well-rounded college experience. This can lead first-gen students, like the author, to feel isolated, inadequate, or illegitimate. "Applications for Dummies" expresses Sanchez's incessant fear that she will never be able to compete with other students who were given the opportunity to build more worldly resumes, despite her strong academic commitment and intellectual potential.