Nonfiction Commons^™

Universe Of Things: A Human Presentation Of Food-For-Thought., Madeline Halpern

Bachelor of Fine Arts Senior Papers

I present this statement under three loose categories: People, Objects and their Environment. I consider People as human, Objects as art objects, domestic objects, and food, and Environment as the shared space of the former groups. Food directs this statement as I present each concept and creative process as a metaphorical dish. Material exploration carried me from a direct practice of reorienting acrylic paint and questioning object functionality through personified sculptures into theoretical thesis work in which I use interpersonal relations and the idea of consumption to translate tactile, gustatory and olfactory sensations into digital film. In this meal I …

Promethia 2018-19

Promethia

No abstract provided.

"Are You There, Dog? It's Me, Riley": Poems, Riley Christine O'Connell

Canterbury Scholars

The end product of Riley O'Connell's Canterbury Fellowship, these poems, ranging in topic from family and loss to love and dogs, were composed over the course of Riley's four years at SCU, included but not limited to her time at Lucile Packard Children's Hospital at Stanford University, where she taught creative writing therapy for her Canterbury.

Decolonizing Playwriting Through Indigenous Ceremonial Performances, Jay B. Muskett

Theatre & Dance ETDs

This dissertation attempts to express the importance of storytelling within the Indigenous Theater framework. It does so by first analyzing the progression of the writer’s unique upbringing and analyzing the influences of story upon an indigenous identity. I will also attempt to describe the aesthetics of Native Theater along two lines of methodology which includes praxis described and developed by Hanay Geiogamah and Rolland Meinholtz. I will also explain how the script 1n2ian tries to follow those concepts of Native Theater to create a ceremonial performance that uses a blending of both methodologies.

Clean Slate, Richard Dinges Jr.

Westview

No one wonders why we return each morning, eyes half-shuddered, mouths yawning

On The Move, Jack Cooper

Westview

Arriving I caught the bus to the beach under a blue and white sky and sat behind five or six riders

Your Girlfriend Is A Boozy Animorph, Henry D. Goldkamp

Westview

My shadow nearly dodges your ghost for an iced glass, again a gin to toast.

A Certain Age, Anne Babson

Westview

The body churns out its red butter every Twenty-eight days but spends the whole cow to do it. The skin still glows a little, but blood vessels ruddy As the spaceship face fissures, approaching warp speed.

Ballad Of St. Stephen's Green, James B. Nicola

Westview

While loitering in St. Stephen’s Green, Watching the youth pass by, I spied an elder gentleman In a blue suit and bright tie

Beetles In Moonlight, Gordon Grice

Westview

This rooted cliff is riddled and pocked. On August nights, you can watch the moonlight clatter into shards that move apart and come together to couple.

Blimps Are Cool, Molly Sizer

Westview

Today we saw the Goodyear Blimp. It flew above the roofs of town.

Carved Door, Dennis Ross

Westview

I stagger with a heavy door, thick, ancient oak with six carved panels: a dove, a plow, flowers, wreathed acanthus leaves.

Health Care, Dick Bentley

Westview

On this hill, in this clump of trees at the edge of the golf course, I sit with the wind swaying the daisies.

If Ever, Dilvin Işiki

Westview

If ever this sadness unbraces the ties between me and you, I’ll hang myself to your happiness;

Midnight Run To Nacogdoches, Robert L. Penick

Westview

He is sitting in a fast food restaurant, pining for a woman who has never had an original thought in her life. It is Christmas Eve, and she is five hundred miles away, celebrating with her new in-laws. He is a damned fool, but hasn’t quite realized it yet.

Naming Southwest Oklahoma, Molly Sizer

Westview

Young Andrew Carnegie invested years steeling money; in his old age, he built imposing music halls on the east coast and libraries in rural towns out west.

The Choice Is Mine, John Grey

Westview

I wear mismatched clothes, fill the sink with dirty dishes, sit and watch football on the TV until all hours

Lampyridae, Donna Emerson

Westview

As I walk down the June steps of the farmhouse, fireflies flash close to my face.

Commemorate, Nan Byrne

Westview

We learn by losing The dead—first one becomes many The truth we knew becomes the truth we suffered

Doughboy And Jenny, Donna L. Emerson

Westview

Our summer horses, five-gaited warm-bloods. Alert, easy to ride.

Green, Richard Dinges Jr.

Westview

Green is cool to gaze into, woods strangled in undergrowth

Part One, Diane Glancy

Westview

The Man Who Loves Dreamsicles

Rains, James B. Nicola

Westview

One kind of rain wears moccasins and comes in quiet as a ghost then leaves your cheeks-nose-forehead moist with an unremarked kiss.

Summer Thunderstorm, Richard Dinges Jr.

Westview

A cold pierce, bolts crack sky’s lids, a brief glimpse at eternity

The Promethean, Volume 27, Blue Apocalypse, 2019, English Department, Concordia University-Portland

The Promethean

Like any other, this past year was full of many hard lessons that were difficult to swallow. It's easy to feel like the world is falling apart sometimes, or worse, that you're alone in the devastation. However, remember that when it feels like the end of the world, you will find sanctuary in your community, your loved ones, your passions, and in yourself.

It is my greatest hope that you also will find sanctuary throughout these pages, a collection of our voices coming together to create something beautiful.

This issue is dedicated to the College of Arts & Sciences. In …

Contributors, Westview Staff

Westview

No abstract provided.

Birds Of Light, Jack Cooper

Westview

Autumn streams of rain hit the maple tree and red and yellow leaves wing off in all directions

Drifting, Nan Byrne

Westview

On the bed my eyes closed I am letting drift take me

Festina Lente, Jack Cooper

Westview

I once laid a stone path in the yard and unearthed a spadefoot toad in hibernation

Here And Now, Dennis Ross

Westview

Driving along an Iowa gravel road I am sometimes jolted wide awake as from a forever sleep, struck by the immediacy of the world,