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    Witness: Winter 2017: The Modern Writer as Witness, #30.3
    Witness: Winter 2017: The Modern Writer as Witness, #30.3
    Witness: Winter 2017: The Modern Writer as Witness, #30.3
    Ebook134 pages1 hour

    Witness: Winter 2017: The Modern Writer as Witness, #30.3

    By Kimberly Anton, Jennifer Doe, Adam Greenberg and

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    About this ebook

    Ending a tumultuous year in the world at large, the Winter issue of Witness is filled with stark dilemmas. Jennifer Doe chronicles a lifetime of #MeToo incidents triggered by the election of Donald Trump in the essay “Any Woman Can Write This.” In Alex Madison’s short story “Penguin Classic,” a rivalry between teenage girls takes a dark turn at a lake house. And Adam Greenburg's poetry series "from Fortune" is assembled using only language from Fortune 500 company names. As always, we’re proud to share writing that reflects contemporary struggles and which re-interprets those truths to allow readers to escape into art.

    Winter 2017 contibutors include:

    Kimberly Anton, Jennifer Doe, Adam Greenberg, Jane Huffman, Andrew Joron, Karen Kevorkian, Kimberly Kruge, Alex Madison, Jessica Metzler, Stephen Pett, Marina Tsvetaeva (translated by Mary White), Robert Ziegler

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherThe Black Mountain Institute at UNLV
    Release dateDec 31, 2017
    ISBN9781386845256
    Witness: Winter 2017: The Modern Writer as Witness, #30.3

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      Book preview

      Witness - Kimberly Anton

      VOL. XXX NO.3

      WINTER 2017

      WITNESS

      VOL. XXX. NO.3 WINTER 2017

      Witness is published annually by the Beverly Rogers, Carol C. Harter Black Mountain Institute in the College of Liberal Arts at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. The magazine is indexed by and available electronically from EBSCO, Humanities International Complete, and Gale. Subscriptions are $12 for one year and $18 for two. Sample copies and back issues, when available, are $10. Orders can be made at our website. Correspondence should be addressed to Witness, Black Mountain Institute, University of Nevada, Las Vegas, Box 455085, 4505 S. Maryland Parkway, Las Vegas, Nevada 89154-5085 or witness@unlv.edu. We invite submissions of fiction, poetry, memoir, and literary essays. Work should be submitted online at witnessmag.org. We do not accept submissions by post or email. All material copyright © 2017 by Witness.

      Cover Art: CARTER MULL / CADERE…CADAVOR Part of a tableau photography series called SHIFTING STATES for which the artist modeled family relationships with a coded set of materials ranging from dust and human hair to fake jewels.

      Click or visit:

      witness.blackmountaininstitute.org

      Publisher Joshua Wolf Shenk

      Managing Editor Dan Hernandez

      Founding Editor Peter Stine (1987-2006)

      Founding Publisher Sidney A. Lutz

      Editor Emerita Amber Withycombe (2007-2012)

      Editor-in-chief Maile Chapman

      Poetry Editor Hannah Andrews

      Assistant Poetry Editor Oscar Oswald

      Fiction Editor Lorinda Toledo

      Assistant Fiction Editor Joe Milan Jr.

      Assistant Nonfiction Editor Scott Hinkle

      Copyediting Sam Gilpin, Wendy Wimmer

      Social Media Carrieann Cahall, Katie McKenzie, Kate Shapiro

      Readers Noha Al-Badry, Christine Bettis, Tim Buchanan, Carrieann Cahall, Kelly Elcock, Danielle Henry, Angelo Ligori, Ryan Molloy, Becky Robison, Timea Sipos, Jack Stilwell, Ariana Turiansky, Ernie Wang

      Poetry

      from Fortune by Adam Greenburg

      Sestina, Spilling Over by Jane Huffman

      WHILE I WAS AWAY by Andrew Joron

      A Cat Rampaging a House at Night Howling for a Cloth Mouse by Karen Kevorkian

      from ARTICULATION by Kimberly Kruge

      Translations of Marina Tsvetaeva by Mary White

      Fiction

      What Are You Afraid Of? by Kimberly Anton

      Penguin Classic by Alex Madison

      The Jumping Off Place by Jessica Metzler

      The H-Shaped Thing by Steve Pett

      Walking by Robert Ziegler

      Nonfiction

      Any Woman Can Write This by Jennifer Doe

      Contributors' Notes

      About Witness

      Poetry

      from Fortune by Adam Greenburg

      *Author’s Note: Each poem has been assembled using only language from the names of companies found in the inaugural Fortune 500 from 1955.

      __________________________

      Lily white, hocking news of a dry spring, a snowdrift can supply a glen of white viscose & sugars. A glen, joy of a farm, chance host of dry powder, can host chemical solvents, foremost gypsum, & a crown of refractories, foremost copper, brass, barium, & sterling. Home of tulip, carnation, & blue-bell, a river controls transportation of lumber, pure of fibers, supply of rayon solvents. A star, optical radio of combustion, carbonic singer of spring, can signal & point, coil & dart, watch & mirror. A foundry, liquid crucible, works foremost of spring & mirror.

      O pets o oats o carbon

      O chemical brands o pacific brands o liquid brands, liquid metals

      O Ontario, Canada o Minnesota o Cleveland

      O pacific powder of paper & pharmaceuticals

      Interstate trucks, tube of petroleum & foremost wheel of supply,

      great viscose wheel of industries

      Young city, quantum city

      Consolidated shell of a city

      O joy of lone climax, climax of global consolidation, foremost

      farms & dairies

      O pipe

      O Cuban cigar

      O dresser of ideal glass,

      Wheeler of great cigars, great arms

      O sterling ideal, bliss & young smelting of works

      A precision textile can radio blue of blue fibers: marine blue & tidewater blue, granite blue & midland blue, carbide blue & allied blue, royal blue & silver blue, solar blue & atlas blue, continental blue & equity blue. Point of point a crown of fibers. An oat-white & blue sheet of fine rayon fibers, brewing a fine air of home, can spring of spring times & ideal news. Publishers publishing news of lone farms & dairies, a viscose spring of liquid & oats.

      Precision arms radio white of white chemicals. A spring of gas & a climax of optical works. A western snowdrift motors west of a tidewater gulf, east of textile mills milling blue fibers (anchor blue, petroleum blue), packing a white belt of powder. A camp, a wire, & a signal. A drug supply &, packing a gas shell, a basic pond of group fuel. News, foremost. Foremost a coil of forest & lone beech. Liquid sugars & a combustion drug. Dry cement. A zenith of viscose sulphur & metals & a white crane of carbonic spring.

      Sestina, Spilling Over by Jane Huffman

      Late afternoon & my brother and I are moving through the strewn hallways of the future. The ceiling is unadorned, & a cloud of sulfur hangs from it, benign and low, wetting our eyes. My brother holds an unlit cigarette in his mouth, a loose screw. A needle protrudes from his arm like a white steeple from the tree line. He asks if I have a light, & I tell him I left it behind.

      I walked my brother here. I walked behind the tarn of his glacial shadow. The afternoon trails my brother like a stray dog searching for clean water. There was a glacier here, he informs me, but he is speaking of the past. He doesn’t speak again. The light fumbles through the courtyard, the hedges of top-heavy olive trees, strewn with fruit. My brother’s nose bleeds into the corner of his mouth. He blames the altitude, but the altitude is low.

      My brother hums a low & forgiving song as he walks behind me. I can feel a song in my mouth, too, the same one my brother hums: heavy, heavy hangs over thy poor head… We have walked these warm hallways before, strewn with kilt pins, two titanium urns, a wheelchair, & headlamp radio, casting a furtive circle of familiar light.

      The light fails. There is a lowly mercy in the air, blowing in from the east, smelling of debris & strewn seaweed. We don’t consider following its impulse. We are unwelcome there. The executioner walks behind us now. My brother holds his breath & I hold my breath, too. The future is a warm amalgam in my mouth.

      In the compartments of his mouth, my brother has hidden a light-blue tab, a quick-release blood capsule, a spade, an undulating hospital bed, a purple morphine lollipop. I knew my brother before he was born. The notion of him was low-hanging. The executioner is not what I remembered. He does not hold a ruby-strewn scythe. In a low voice, he beckons my brother & I. Fear crawls out from behind the high hedges. The air is ruby-strewn.

      I am ruby-strewn. I am the high hedges. I know perfection. I have spent afternoons with my hand against it. The executioner speaks without moving his mouth. The past is far behind us, but we can still hear its light, frantic footsteps. In the low bramble of forsythia, my brother gets high. He spits in the eye of the present. I was born in the warm rooms of my brother’s past. In the future perfect, I will have welcomed my brother.

      WHILE I WAS AWAY by Andrew Joron

      A where the water of

      what was was

      what was was—

      Aware, the whiter of

      is & is

      no easy zone.

      Attained

      to black, be lack—

      Be

      Turn-all, eternal.

      A spot coincident to

      speed & stillness—style.

      A cause coincident to dance.

      Not

      What cut what caught

      did knot.

      O were the

      Knower now here!

      —to await the unexpected

      Pax of excess—

      Yes yes yes.

      A Cat Rampaging a House at Night Howling for a Cloth Mouse by Karen Kevorkian

      Girls stroking bodies with oil looking quickly at the lifeguard,

      sunpinked, lanky, upward brushed hair leveled off like a tray

      soft bristles against a palm, underwater paths they might travel

      in the big pool

      quick laughter cold tangle, against the towel’s nap the grass

      coarse and insisting

      A comedy of the 60s, a woman at the gyno behind a screen

      removing her clothes

      husband and male doctor on the other side, how to calm her

      marriage what they did then, a theory of living

      Replacing the old with the new, Hesse wrote in 1907, you lose

      what he called fantasy

      the memories or imagination associated with certain rooms or chairs,

      the old jacket you put your arms into

      each time remembering its earlier embrace of your shoulders

      from ARTICULATION by

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