10thMuse

The Spring 2011 EditionStudent Publication

The name was chosen in honor of the nine muses, Greek goddesses who offered inspiration in the arts and sciences. With the need to expand our publication to include students from across the country, the 10th Muse was born.

What is The 10th Muse?

10thMuse

The

Desert War - by Kyle Skehan

You’ve Asked Me What I Have to Offer

By Adriana Comstock

And well, this is it.

I offer you my heart of hearts.I will love and care for you.

I offer you a seat before my fireplaceto show you mercy and treat you well.

I offer you my encouraging voiceto pull you through life’s stormy sea.

I offer you a chainmail jacketto help you stand before your fears.

I offer you a compass rosefor when you’re lost in this wicked world.

This is all I have to offer.

Bloodshot Eyes - by Kyle Skehan

Poverty

By Deja Brown

It’s not the best thing for Baby.Those smashed peas on the floor.That broken faucet.There are no onesies for the baby,no pacifiers,not even a teddy bear to hold.There’s no laughter or talking,only wailing from the baby.There’s never enough milk to go around. Diapers are expensive.and there’s never enough.never enough undergarments,never enough bread,never enough.

Kristen Boomer 2010

Ode to My Bed

by Grant Edwards

My preferred methodOf transport toThe parts of my headUnknown to you,Is surely my bed,Like which there are few.When I lay my head backAnd give it a while,A teleport jacksMe away, miles and miles.Floating on somethingLighter than feathers,No pain like it’s numbing,A cloud with good weather.If ever separated,I’d be like a maniac,All day I’d be paradingUntil I finally hit the sack. My cozy fluffy abyssThat nobody pays any mindFills me with such bliss;To me, you’re all blind.It is an anesthesia, Truly a drug, I’m addicted to the leisure,Probably in love. Kind of like a machine,It constantly worksTo get me to my dreamsAway from all the hurt.

Diamondby Ricky Marion

Oh Diamond! My Diamond! You’ve chased your last car, barked your last bark, and walked your last walk, but you’ll forever walk in my heart. Those beautiful brown eyes have gone stiff,Those big brown paws don’t fight,Those strong jaws don’t bite.

Oh Diamond! My Diamond!“here girl, come here” I miss you so, I miss you so, PLEASE! Come here.Run to me and lick my face, let’s throw this stick and race.

Oh Diamond, Diamond, Diamond, A rare jewel indeed, A jewel that will forever stay with me.

Scarlett Bonoirv 2011

Emily & Her Spiderman Socks

by JC Fox

The shallow sun rising far up above the purple everglade mountains drifts down into the valley, handing out its sunlight to all the creatures and plants there in. It finds a tree and casts a withered shadow about the ground, encasing a family of butterflies and ravenous squirrels as they gather their acorns for the day. A few prairie dogs nestle into the Burroughs as they begin to start their morning. The sun beams down from far into the galaxy. The dew of the grassy field, encased by the mountains all around begins to whip back and forth with the gentle breeze…

As the prairie is, there is a slight rustle in the grass; a figure shifts back and forth. The animals begin to grow tense as the shape moves nearer…ever so discreet in shifts through the tall wet grass, making slight munching sounds as it nears the watering hole.

“What a fine specimen, aye! Look at that beast, slithering right up thru’ to that waterin’ hole mate!” The one Australian hunter pronounced.

“Ah mate, its coming in hot’ for the’ kill.” The other replied.

Watching from a distance the hunters watched as the grass moved, then suddenly the figure shot up, ran straight across the ground with the speed of 10 cheetah’s and straight up a huge willow tree.

“Did you see that mate? That thing must a’ been runin’ a good 90miles per hour!!!”

“Ah I did see it I did.”

The specimen was truly unique, it had to be captured. The hunters quickly mobilized in there brand new H9 straight from the outer regions of China, and made way to the huge willow tree. At the bottom of the tree they looked up, and saw it!

“Well look at that Joshy, is a girl!”

In fact it was a girl; a girl with a torn bright yellow ASU shirt on, her hair was that of a massive lion, spoofed all around her head in a perfect mane like formation. Her eyes were black as the night, like looking into space with no stars any where to be seen. She wore a loin cloth, made from the skin of elephants and tiger claws, tied together with mountain husk. And last, she wore no shoes, but she did have on a unique pair of Spiderman socks.

The hunters were dumbfounded, staring in awe at the mighty fine specimen.

“JC, get the’ tranq’!” Josh exclaimed as he stood dumb founded under the girl!

The hunter JC ran to the H9 and grabbed the prettiest tranq, because the girl was so pretty he didn’t want to hurt her even though she was a wild animal in the tree of willow. But, seeming that he was too focused on the looks of the creature he forgot the gun to shoot the dart, so he ran back to the H9 and got the gun, back to the tree, loaded up the gun and prepared to fire. And then she started to shake the tree, her Spiderman socks started to shoot web from the toes! Tree branches were being ripped into shreds as the powerful webs decimated the branches of the once nice willow. The tree just then, fell over and all the prarie dogs went scrambling, the birds were distraught, the ground flew into the air like a blasted ship that just got sent off the

moon! The ground seemed as if it was going to break open. Rocks started to fall off the distant mountains, the purple everglades were crashing down…

A distinct figure stood atop the tall mountain…scruffy looking, in a plaid red shirt, ripped down the sleeves with a small creature extruding out of its chest, an elk possibly? The being stood one hundred furlongs high, towering over the mountain with distinct grace. His beard sank down to his Adam’s apple, which seemed as if it were injected with ten pounds of steroids. It seemed clear…it was Paul Bunyan! A never before scene folklore only heard about in tall tales and mythical fire stories. As the mountains were crashing down and the prairie turning to ruin, suddenly the earth caved in behind him because of his massive beard and down went his awesomeness and beard with it!

“Aye mate, Joshy, we got to go!”

“Not without the mighty specimen! Grab her!”

They made the attempt, they whipped that hummer back around like John Wayne would lasso a refugee. Blazing head strong into the crumbling earth, running over massive amounts of dirt, and clumps, and mud, and water, and trees, and bushed, and all this without hitting any animals, because these days PETA would be upset if this was in the story…They flew like the wind, whistling with expertise, of course hunter JC was driving seeming that he was the smarter of the two, Josh was just good with the exclaiming and pointing out the complete obvious. They arrived at the tree once more, Josh stood up through the sun roof, gun in hand and tranq in barrel. He raised the massive golden firearm to his cheek, pressed his face into the barrel, spat on his hands and clapped them together for some good luck, took aim and then fired!

“Right O’ mate that was dead on Joshy!

“Awe yeah, good shot yeah!”

She fell from the tree, her body floating down like a perfect feather, and then…flump. Her body hit the ground like a fiery meteor from space. Yet her body was still in perfect condition, she was a superhero…that lived in a tree…in the quiet valley that wasn’t so quiet anymore because she started to shake the tree but, that is beside the point because the hunters Josh and JC captured her!

“Off to home!” shouted JC as he held her body in the air above his head, “victory is ours, mate!”

They piled her body in the back of the H9, no straps or anything. As they crossed back over the mountains and the demolished grassy plains, they arrive safely in New River, Arizona. Back to the house they go to mount their specimen on the wall. But then, she awakes! In awe she slaps the two boys!

“JC! Josh! Next time we play Mighty Hunter I am going to get to shoot you with a dart!”

“Emily, if it wasn’t for Josh and me you would still be shopping with mom.” Replied JC

“Yeah Emily, you are dumb.” Said Josh ever so sarcastically.

The tale was over, the game came to an end, and the back yard was thrashed completely. Mom arrived home and the chore list soured through the roof, yet another day for a fun adventure in the life of three teenagers.

Emily & Her Spiderman Socks by JC Fox

Kristen Boomer - 2011

The Summer I Went to Camp on Scholarship

By Alex Guzman

Sitting around the campfire,I’m the odd number. I don’t fit in,like the one fish in the schoolwith the messed up fin.Money, money, moneythat’s all I really hear.But when I stare at my reflection,I see poverty and all that fear.

Back at home, I sat in a lonely room,that had nothing but a bed.I prayed to God to help my familyfor all the tears we have shed.I sat and wondered everydaywho is really to blame.

Sitting around this fire, I’m not a lambo. I’m not gold. I’m notluxury. I write to my family and tell them not to worry, for soon we’ll be the rising flame.

Hurricane Vicki

By Adriana Comstock

In Mesa, palm trees wither in the heat,grass crackles under flip flops and tennis shoes,homeless men beg and bicker outside Circle K.They remind me of my grandma on her bad days.She sounded like a roaring, growling hurricane.She left me grasping for a life raft to carry me back,back to our green door, passed the short orange grove,to the kitchen where we used to bakespoonfuls of laughter into every bite.But in Mesa, birds bathe in abandoned plastic pools,children run through lawn sprinklers,and sun light glitters on glass windows.

Adam Dregely 2011

The Trick

by Juan Zagaste-Castro

A lawnmower growls as it moves down the yard,The boy cannot quit even if the work is hard.He’ll take any odd job to reach his goal.Cars need to be washed and driveways swept,working and working until nothing is left.

He searches for change,quarters, dimes, and nickels.Even pennies help in the hunt.Every cent counts towards this goal,after several weeks he reaches the total.

On the counter sits his prize.As the register dings the purchase is made,excitement and glee shows on the boys face.With a brand new skateboard gripped tightly in his hands,he rushes out the store his mind filling with plans.

Sprinting to the park time starts to slow,His anxiety and nerves begin to show.Step by step his dream becomes more real.Enthusiasm fades and apprehension remains,the boy fears it could all be in vain.

Hour upon hour are spent at the park,The boy stays persistent as light becomes dark.He will not leave until he lands this trick.With bruises on his body and blood dribbling down his knee,The boy flies through the air finally landing an Ollie.

Eric Wood 2011

Economy

By Bethany Mattera

It started with a promotion.We boughta new house, new couch,a bigger TV, earphones, iPod, a blasting stereo,some new things to deafen my ears to my sister’s complaining. We purchased a bed-a new bright red bunk bed. We acquired a restful night’s sleep. We bought happinessfor awhile.We obtained love, comfort without worry, growth without thinking

thenmy parents got laid offwe lostthe pool, the custom paint,our computer, games, the warmthand we gained back the sound of chaos,a crowded ten by ten roomfor four people, restless nights of worry, and grief that pulled life out from under us.

Lydia McSparron 2011

Ivonne Villa

Actually today was abetter day than yesterday.‘cause I’m counting thedays to see you.especially on the weekendsFriday’s are verygreat, because I canhold your handI melt when youjust touch mekiss me ans you ILove you, forever.maybe this is not forevernever won’t be betteror let’s see what happenspressure is never good when you say i’m yourqueen I smile, yourock my world, when I’m yousmileing is all I can do.Thank you baby, youunderstand me very wellwhen I’m with you there is no‘Xcuse to be mad atyou let’s zoom into the world.

Adam Dregely 2011

Battery of Parks

by Eric Wood

A battery of parks unfolded yesterdayspreading across the whole USAleaving in their wake a human-less green;wind brushes grass in this pastoral scene.

The Last Cruise

by Grant Edwards Meridian

Drifting on the Atlantic, Near the Florida Keys, The new retiree awakes to the Sunrise, And is warmed by the tropic breeze.He wasn’t planning on staying outAll night on the open seas,And when the wind subsided he rememberedThere’s no reason to be at ease.He wasn’t on his boat, nor his wife,Rather on his knees,And as the gun was placed on his head,He could only muster “please.”His wife saw his head open up,Her body stomach starting to queeze.She felt her husband’s lifeless handLet go of its fearful squeeze.She knew it was over for her,So she decided to seize One last breath, and what one betterThan from the warm tropic breeze.

Brown Business Suit

by Eric Wood

The buildings vertical skew bracketsa young man in a brown suitwalking lengthwise down 6th Avenue.Everyday a sprint across the street,three options, depending on his particular taste. Today, he thought, I’ll have the Mexican. As he leapt from the curbhis suit opened into brief wingsexposing a salmon colored lining.For a moment there was rawflesh, underarm tenderness. Uponlanding his wings flapped down and the brownbusiness suit softly closed his torso. Surefooted,he moved with confident strides straight across the street,again, hopped upon the curb, where from behindhe appeared a flippant bird quickly flapping ata receding acquaintance. The openingand closing of a hand whose fingers gesture,away.

Eric Wood 2011

Youth

Courtney Hart

First time feelings,Silly fears of the unknown.Fierce love of all thing appealing,New ideas not yet grown,They are fresh.

Another time enjoying,Repeated jokes still make me laugh.Favorite movies remain exciting.It’s nice to re-travel the same path.I have learned what I like.

Spending time with friends,Young faces become old and familiar.Deep conversations never end,Bonds based on substance not filler.My circle has been made.

My time is coming.Dreams are being fulfilled,Before the school bell alarm clock rings,My name has been billed.I am almost there.

Time is on my side.My hour glass equals my cup,More than half full.Procrastination is not a sin,Patience is my friend.

Megan Schaub 2011

Things I Found Inside a Fish

By Gage Olesen My hands were a twilightof its scales, and still I had to pushforward.I had to slice openits gullet, to explore its lifevia intestinal tract:the tattered, hairy leg of a tarantulaa few worms,a shoelace,and the handle to a pair of scissors.For a minute, I wonder If it ranwith themafter waking upfrom a sleeplessnight.Opting for badly tied sneakersinstead of its usualsea cucumber slippers.I wonder if it fellface firstupon the scissor’s tipon the way backfrom its favorite diner.Serving insectstwenty four hours a daysix days a week. Is that why it fellfor my hook, badly disguisedas a helpless fly?

Rachel Alcala 2011

Heidi Blestrud 2011

Kiana Betts

As I lay imagining of a new life,Bewildered by everything I wantCautious of everything I underestimateDescribable imaginings I dreamEven though I can’t have the possiblityFortunetly overdressed, pampered.Giving the poor of what I have to offerHaving all I would dream.Indescribable wants, or needs.Jewerly unlike anything you have ever seen beforeKindling lights above my headLovely ballrooms filled with extrodinary delicacies.Many men and women flowing to the music I provideNo peasants, only the wealthy.Other forunes, like cars, houses.Planes, jets, helicopters.Quilts made for a queen.Roaring animals in cages I collect.Slaughtering of the best meats.Taste all the fruits of the earthUnderstanding all literatureVocally magnificent.Working of my maids, and butlers.X marks the spot that I find more treasures.Yearning for more, until everthing is gone.Zebras I collect as I waste my money, and have nothing left.

Zoey Dektor 2011

Alex Ramierz 2011

The Other Brother (For Franz Wright)

By Gage Olesen And while you spoke of the man in the mirror, the reflection of a shadow, I speak of its source. The dreamless broken body whose eyes drift to a close at night. The one whose fingers never touch the future. Whose palms never brush progress. His sight is his own, and his identical twin means nothing to him as he scans the elegant prose. He means nothing to him as he runs the razor across a week’s worth of stubble. Never once does he think of his forgotten family as he slurps his soup. He slips into his coat and makes for the door, and for a moment, his twin dies as he strolls into the shadows. Never once does he notice. He walks to the corner and gazes down either side of the street, while his twin lays flat, trembling, begging for a chalk outline. The Other Brother never notes the lack of light on the street, though his twin would have loved nothing more than for one of those windows to be lit.

Josh Hilton-Ritchie - 2011

Josh Hilton-Ritchie - 2011

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InnovatEDL e a r n i n g O u t s i d e t h e B o x