• Visions in Chains  • The Bean  •  Who Can We Watch Tonite?   • Night Glider  • The Hurricane  •  Crisp New Paper   • Compassion  • Loneliness  • 301  • Ode to Man  •  Unsteady Hands   • The Beachcomber  • The Pounce  • Graveyard Shift  • Houston Refineries  • Haiku  • The End of the Game  • A Rose  • Ode to a Ziffle  • To Carson McCullers  • In the May Month  •  Ghostly Chanting   • Travel Excerpts  • Face in the Crowd  • Waiting in an Airport  • A Taste of Winter\u27s Embracehttps://digitalcommons.ursinus.edu/lantern/1115/thumbnail.jp

Brown, Mari K.

Brynan, Charles W., III

Daly, Ed

Daly, Linda

Dalziel, Bruce

Fleagle, Scott

Foley, Barbara

Kile, Chris

Malkames, Mark

Polites, Xenia Constantine

Procaccino, Drew

Reinhart, Lori

Rosenfeld, Jack

Silva, Terry

English

Ursinus College

Ursinus CollegeDigital Commons @ Ursinus CollegeThe Lantern Literary Magazines Ursinusiana Collection12-1979The Lantern Vol. 46, No. 1, December 1979Drew ProcaccinoUrsinus CollegeChris KileUrsinus CollegeCharles W. Brynan IIIUrsinus CollegeXenia Constantine PolitesUrsinus CollegeBarbara FoleyUrsinus CollegeSee next page for additional authorsFollow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.ursinus.edu/lanternPart of the Fiction Commons, Illustration Commons, Nonfiction Commons, and the PoetryCommonsClick here to let us know how access to this document benefits you.This Book is brought to you for free and open access by the Ursinusiana Collection at Digital Commons @ Ursinus College. It has been accepted forinclusion in The Lantern Literary Magazines by an authorized administrator of Digital Commons @ Ursinus College. For more information, pleasecontact aprock@ursinus.edu.Recommended CitationProcaccino, Drew; Kile, Chris; Brynan, Charles W. III; Polites, Xenia Constantine; Foley, Barbara; Reinhart, Lori; Dalziel, Bruce; Daly,Linda; Fleagle, Scott; Rosenfeld, Jack; Silva, Terry; Brown, Mari K.; Daly, Ed; and Malkames, Mark, "The Lantern Vol. 46, No. 1,December 1979" (1979). The Lantern Literary Magazines. 115.https://digitalcommons.ursinus.edu/lantern/115AuthorsDrew Procaccino, Chris Kile, Charles W. Brynan III, Xenia Constantine Polites, Barbara Foley, Lori Reinhart,Bruce Dalziel, Linda Daly, Scott Fleagle, Jack Rosenfeld, Terry Silva, Mari K. Brown, Ed Daly, and MarkMalkamesThis book is available at Digital Commons @ Ursinus College: https://digitalcommons.ursinus.edu/lantern/115Vol. XLVI, No.1 Decembel' 1979 A collechon of Poetry, Prose and Photography composed for the Fall Tenn, 1979, by the students of Ursmus College. The Lantern, the literary magazine of Ursinus College, symbolizes the light shed by creative work. It is named after the top structure on Pfahler Hall, which has the archItectural design not of a tower or spire, but of a lantern. Cover drawing: Cindy Zamoskl Table of Contents (photograph) Drew Procacclno 3 Visions In Chams Chns KJie 4 The Bean Charles W Brynan III 4 "Who can we watch tonite?" Xenia ConstantIne Polttes 5 Night Glider Barbara Foley 6 (photograph) Lon Reinhart 6 the hurricane Myko 7 .. .. crisp new paper- Bruce Dalziel 8 Crumpled Paper (drawmg) Linda Daly 9 Compassion Bruce Dalziel 10 Loneliness The Allen I I 301 Scott Fleagle II Ode to Man Anonymous 12 (photograph) Drew Procaccmo 13 "unsteady hands-" Piela 14 The Beachcomber lack Rosenfeld 15 The Pounce Bruce DalzIel 16 Graveyard Shift John P. 17 Houston Rehnenes Chris Kile 18 Haiku K.B. 19 The End of the Game Jack Rosenfeld 19 A Rose Terry Silva 20 (photograph) LOri Remhart 20 Ode to a ZHfle Snowball 21 J.RR Tolloen Anonymous 22 To Carson McCullers Man K. Brown 23 In the May Month Charles Brynan 24 (photograph) Lon Reinhart 25 "ghostly ~hanhng:" 8ruce Dalziel 26 Travel EXI erpL'l; Ed Daly 27 (drawmg) Lmda Daly 27 Face Ir: the Crowd Anonymou 28 (drawmg) Lindo Daly 29 Waiting tn an A.Hport Mark Malkame. 30 A Taste of Winter'') Embrace RP.M. 31 (photograph) Lon Remhcut 32 Patrons Dr. Gayle Byerly Mr. J. Douglas Davis Dr. Joyce Henry lack Rosenfeld Dr. George Storey Dr. John Wickersham OJew PIOCOCelnO 3 Visions in Chains Why do these words shp away from me? Why can't I grasp them and make them sing? You can't bind to paper thoughts which run free; Meter and rhythm sound a steely nng for they're chains. The songs of the angels couldn't have feet Nor steel-clad scansion nor rigld rhyme; Those songs from the love of God must flow sweet, In patternless paeans of joy out of time Where Eternity reigns But I hve In time; my lime has an end. My words must warm ears of cold, stiff clay; Yet with scansion and rhyme, those ears I'll bend That's glory enough, until the day When I drop my chains Where Eternity reigns. Chns Kile The Bean Beneath the freshly tilled soil, Raked smooth by human sweat and expectation, Rests the bean seed: a pale white, Lifeless object that needs nothing less than magic, In order to climb through the earth A distance ten times its own size. Day after day I visit the barren spot, Knowing that my role is done (At least for now) And the force that has given me life Will be the same needed for that lowly bean seed. 4 And then It happens! The earth has cracked while my eyes were closed, And now a stem, green and limber, has protruded, Carrymg upon Its shoulders a palf of hands. The hands, however, are not clenched proudly In victory over Its success to hfe, But clasped humbly, As 11 m prayer. Perhaps the bean knows the real source of its life -I search for mine. Cholles W Brynan !II Who can we walch tonite? If we all SIt back slyly enough Or even through open windows If we all glance over styrofoam cups J'm sure we con see 11 all Better yet, We can have something To talk about For days to come For brunch conversation Are you shll watchmg? From here we can Formulate In our mmds Drowned with beer Who will be WIth whom Why, where, and how many times Through two hundred times the Mampulahon We realize this is Q great party What could possibly be More entertaming Than a show where all the Actors Prove themselves to be Mere amateurs? Xerua Cortlllanbne Pailles 5 Night Glider Each mght I unfwl my Wings and travel onward throughout tIme and destiny. I am everything then. I am, I create, I become my own creations, until the shIill song of the daylight awakens me. For a moment the memory remams I smile happily. But the mask must be taken out and repainted. The daylight world wHI never know that I am a night glider. Barbara Foley 6 Lon Remhart The Hurricane you are sleepmg. you feed me and 1 eat- I consume your rhythmic breathing i watch you- your hands, your mouth, your sense of tuning; of neamess- you stir- i am frightened-you tum- we talk- I lie-i ache- you are wann. we are alone- my k.nees are hfted-i am caressed- I yeam-1 am you are you will you will take me-we are talklOg you consume me-you move you are motion we are moving we lOllch we are gears churning thrashing we are a machine- clnving and speeding spreading unleashing venomous steel hips smashing rhythmically shatterinq plateglass visions splintenng sPitting Interwoven limbs grasping clawing bleedmg steaming pcundmg ICon nesh your eyes your mouth open teeth gnashIng and sloshing gnawmg emotion screaming seethmg pam In colors wrenching nppmg you heave--the sky- It 15 now broken g1055- It slashes my skm through the wmdow-you ore panting you are lurning- slower away- slower stili gears halt you are shll. you aTe turning into gold. Silence. (I am crylng- I hurt II you had ani y taken my hff:'_ 1 am sobbing. 10m earth. 10m a whorp. I am a liar. and you- ) you are sleeping. 7 Mylto crisp new paper- -fresh blue hnes mapped rhythmlcally across snow white pages- -the essence of mmimalism; the patential of a hurricane. what thoughts wlil caress the parallel blues? multicolored pens inkmg calculated formulas? or scribbled pencH notes of a poetic madman- -deep alone in a lost Tibetan cave where mushrooms are wildflowers and ag10g candles, hke fad10g dreams, afford the only sunhght? the colonng of images- -blue or yellow, truth or he; there IS no control in pages. leaves and flowers and words grow old; hngers grow calloused beneath the weight of the pass10g of ages and a qUickly dY10g pen. the perslstent doubts of a dreamer- -- the complacent ennui of strangers, - the narcotic silence of mlITors, - the inevitable pass10g of pages; yet there 15 hopeful prom15e in crisp new paper. 8 In the aftermath of a snowstorm, a group of children make thel! way across a frozen field. then footprints leave blue shadows in the whtteness. 9 Bruce Dalziel Crumpled Peper unde Daly Compassion he dragged her here; she wore a simple black dress hoping noone would recogmze her. on the dark open dance floor Diomedes soars like a falcon before the kill: Clfchng weightlessly, his eyes keen and dangerous, his proud feathers flYing. Cnseyde shifts nervously In her chair Diomedes is drunk and reeling, a girl in his arms is overwhelmed; Criseyde rolls her wedding ring nervously around her finger -this has happened before. the dull pounding trance of love songs one after another -we sil uncomfortably; i want to speak to her bu t the room is too loud. and reflecting on my own secret pain, i respect the silence of submission. we all destroy the things most precIous and pretend not to notice. Bruce DalZIel 10 Loneliness Like a rhino through a bay window. A ringing shatteIS the silence. The gloom of my tranquility vanishes. The waiting is over. Excited, r grab the receiver. DeJected, I write: Gallon 01 milk Loaf of bread Jor 01 crunchy peanut bulter. "Yes, Dear," 5:00 arrives -f flip the sign on the door. MAYTAG CLOSED. 301 Big waisted elephant Should not altemptto sWim; Foolish mtelligence To make gold out of un. Big waisted elephant, The feet begin to sink; The loss of high values, Decadence to the bnnk. Big waisted elephant, Senseless wasted body; FoolISh mtelligence To ignore history. Scott ftf'agtp 11 The Alien Ode To Man And the Earth was lonely, But for the plankton In the sea, From which new creatures would arise, And eventually take to the skJes. Not all, however, could avoid The pull of gravity on thiS spheroid, And so they learned to walk and run, And even climb the trees for fun. Though this life was to be adored, The effects of progress could not be Ignored. Advanced beings on Earth did form, Varying from the accepted norm. They learned to conquer and to feign, And finally the entire planet did reign, But, as u each to the other was a bother, They began to fight amongst one another, For freedom and democracy was the song, To try and set nght the others' wrong, But as to who and what was right Could never be discovered in the others' light, And so more powerful weapons were created, To use against the relations hated, Until a bomb, considered a ploy, Whose sole purpose was to destroy, Was activated by one mmdless hand To achieve its mission and annihilate the land. From thence, half a millemum did pass Before the slightest sign of grass, And the Earth was lonely, But for the plankton In the sea ... 12 Anonymous I I " < I ) ... ' f' IJl , " , J" , , , , ~ + I , '. I • " .~\ , ' .' , I "r.} ' '" \' , t I,· I • • •• I ' I :t \. "/ P .' ,I 11 . ) " , , , • • ~ .. \, \ 1) , • . \ i Ji ',)jf ,../ , IJ .• ,,\, ' \ ' " J" . I t ~. • ~I \ . unsteady hands -- wrecklessly swaggenng -the uruavelhng of a fading evening and tie as the one last seven and seven SWirlS around the warming ice in a smokey glass. real smoke-the smoke of a somewhat intoxicating silence and car doors slam metal as keys fall into aWOitmg doorlocks and escorting symbol:sm threatens to knock the glass from my hands-spIlhng the contents wetly over a deep blood red carpet, sinkmg slowly through the pile and that whisper of fright that always seems to accompany that often unfami;iar scent of an evening such as this. unsteady hands-hands that always manage to betray my Frank Sinatra advances. hands that would rather sleep alone than take a chance on trustmg. my hands. 14 The eagle. So proud; He soars high above us ali, Mocking our freedom. KB. The End of the Game The end of the game Bodies react: The mind IS black, But the soul's aflame. A pat on the back Leaves startled eyes With snarled cnes That seem to retract. Happy are the ties Smce departed, But still the drea Of short, sad good byes. Let it not be saId That all is lost U pnde's cool frost Slows the tide's fierce ebb. A shot h,ts the post The dunk undone, The last play's run The eHort, a ghost. The clock strikes two, one The buzzer sounds: Of a thousand frowns In urnson. Jack RosflnJf>!d 19 ARose A rose, So easily discarded. Forfeiting its existence for a single of your glances Or one brush against your skin, Or to momentarily fill your room with its odorous last cries. For the possibility of your attenlion, Paying with its life. Not so much sad, as bitterly expensive. But life is a gift of luxury. Unappreciated, it is superfluous. Yet, on those rare and rich occasions, Where towers stond high below you, And stars donce lightly upon your shoulders; Life, in its fullest, is priceless. Such an extravagant celebration. Terry Silva Lori Reinharl 20 He drove past the tram station, Speedmg through PIXley wllh reckless abandon. The big CIty was hfe Incarnate For his television remained behind, And as he sped from Hooterville Peasants yelled, "Stop Pig, Stop Pig!" But Arnold spal at Ihe Druckers And laughed at the Honeys. He'd no need for humanoIds. The bIlingual beast added salt to their wounds Yelling "No manos, nmos! No manos, ninosl" He now left Mr. Smoot m the dirt, The Cannonball appeared motionless. A.Z. could nol be stopped! But then an agranan KImball jeeps onto the SCene, ExclOlmmg "Op-Stay Ow-Nay Ig-Pay!" The shocked driver lost control As rus skidding tues sent him mto a pole. I'm sorry, Fred, No more Green Acres. Snowball 21 Ode to a Ziffle , ,f , r", " - ............ )::>;"") , I \ / 22 . . , \ Lmda Daly To Carson McCullel's (and "The Ballad of the Sad Cafe"t The Quagmire, like thick, cold oatmeal is rising as I sink. It turtlenecks me with "ngers of shme. My gapmg mouth is gasping to aid the slowly filling lungs. My mind tears across the facade of my life. There was a time - - -An instance - --When I could have saved myself. My adaptations resembled a chameleon's. I was secure in my surroundings, Immobile when necessary, Free to crawl always. My colors changed for me alone. Now I before my eyes me covered in murk I see you before me. You are also In the mue. my friend. Young and beautiful- -You will be bouyant LIke a Ooating log. or rather An ascendmg God. I have learned to be shll and dIe slowly. I will suffer the pam for you, beloved. As my shoulder becomes your Steppmg stone to heedom, I submerge. The dark clouds will cover me Forever. My mmd is a flurry of sentences. Images, Yet I know it wasn't always thiS way You know-Lave. Mall K B,own 23 In the May Month (Ode to Rhonda) In the May month, green replaces white, Orange breasted birds bounce across new awakenmg turf, Tulips uncup, flags unfurl, And slowly, slowly, love's captured spell's undone. Yes, spnng has come! In the May month, ears lean to hear the barking of the geese, While eyes search to smell the odor of all newness. And yet what give we in return for such gilts from the Light? What hold we In our hearts that match this intnnsic beauty? Oh God, iI we did not have to give of ourselves to life's chumlng cycle; If we could only receive and receive and yet receive agam! HIde, 0 hide from the May month, For in our hearts there is a jewel more precious than all the glistening dew drops that cling to upper boughs, More resilient than the morning's first ray, More everlasting than time itself' HIde, hide from the May month our beauteous flower, Whose slender stem so supple and new, holds proud her golden spray, Whose prophetic eyes and open heart are wise beyond her years. Be still ye Dragon, Bear and Hound, And all creatures £rom the art,st's hand. from mind to hand, from hand to canvas, From canvas to eye, from eye to heart, and there will her colors dwell forever. 24 In the May month, green replaces white, Newborn wmgs lest warmer air, And our precIOUS jewel we did exchange. We cry unfair! UnfaIr exchange! And yet no answer can give us peace, No sweet melody can ease our thoughts, No truth can let us rest. Except that when the May month comes and comes and comes again, To warm us With the sun, We'll know thai tHe and death are one, Charles B,ynan Lori Reinhart 25 ghostly chantmg; the wicked ones. unable to disobey we come from the underbrush and stumble to the shoreline. louder and louder: the goatskin drums, the cry of a woman; candles flicker, the moon quivers yellow; the sky pulses lightening and scarlet; the wicked ones skitter and flip across the water burning behind them. terrified i reach for my father's hand but they have taken him, screaming, roaring on downstream. it is over. silently, the survivors crawl back to the underbrush. the whispered order: "we will hide here until next time," Bruce Dalziel 26 I TI:Gvel Excel:pts 3. They blow their bubbles in the air 10 see the httle windows there. They rise loll, and dance and sway, and sor0;j'c\re awhile I· I~.J..- I if I J( 6. SoJ<i\If'Jes I lind the habll line 01 JjJrtg dnnk 10 dull the mind I've heard it SOld HIS a crutch. Perhaps at tImes we lhmk 100 much. Ed Daly 27 '. Face in the cl'owd It's not so much that you're Just a Face In the crowd, but It's Just you don't belong there With the rest of them. I read Your poem and was jealous Because I hadn't written It sooner. I wish I could talk to you about This disease we seem to have - - Understandmg. Maybe we have met without knowing What was there. It's a shame That people here are afrOld to Break down and show a little Emohon. I've been afraid to have dreams. They're Nice and all, but they get bashed and battered With hme Until you can't recognize them anymore. This place can crush you if you let down your guard And get washed away by the crowd. You never come back. No my friend, there is Life here. You've proven to me that one just has to look for it I'll be the one with the Searchmg eyes. Anonymous 28 \ 29 ~ -0 " a "0 c ..:J Waiting In An Airport Sleepless nights on a Sunday afternoon, knOWing I'm not needed watching the smoke fdled room And when I think of you kid I don't get as nauseous as I once did Seventy-three and thirty-four Seventy· two I count no more And when that blimp comes down I will climb aboard for space is endless and emptier than your mind. Vegetables will make you sick especIally If they're mixed so if you feel happy tell your neIghbor where he can go. Words may have meaning, and numbers may have value but you have neither And If you see scott fleagle, tell hIm to have a nrce day. 30 Mark Malkames A Taste of Winter's Embrace Latent summer's warm aging days fall to cool mature nights. Nature's geometric hues abound In aqueous airs of clear blue. Geese high above life's changing spectrum plaYing alphabetical night patterns In the sky. Clouds darkened by their dank burden lightly cry drops of rehef. Woodland nomads scuny down the hill to the valley's call of the whippoorwill. Willow trees bow to the northern Winds persuasive blow and curtsy to the fall of the angelic snow. Sleeping daffodil fields are dusted crescent white. A frozen pond reveals two loolong glass worlds. All of these things whIch wam of wmter's coming JO sIghts and sounds of ham~ony 31 RPM _. -- -- --.;;.--Lori Reinhart 32 Staff Edilor ......... .. Associate Editor . .. AssIstant Edttor. . .... Contributions EdItor. .. Layout Edilor Art EdItor . Business Manager Faculty AdVIsor .. . .. . Lon Reinhart .. Chns Kde . Cindy Zamoskl Bruce DalZiel . Alane Bullock Melanie Newman Jack Rosenfeld Dr John WIckersham Staff Neal Allen Barbara Foley Susan Lenthe Diane Shaffer John Squire 

The Lantern Vol. 46, No. 1, December 1979

https://digitalcommons.ursinus.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1115&context=lantern

The Lantern Vol. 46, No. 1, December 1979

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