Monica Multer

We began our second day adventure with Tucson, Arizona after a drive through the Sonoran Desert. The closer we got to the city of Tucson, the more cacti began to fill the scenery around us. This being so, and Tucson being home to both sectors of Saguaro National Park we decided to make a cacti stop in the Western section of Saguaro National Park. This park is filled with unbelievable amounts of cacti, tall and towering, the stand like sentries over the dry land of the Tucson desert. Driving into the park we climb a hill that at its peak allows for a grand view of a huge valley blanketed with this type of cactus. This landscape, unique to Tucson was quite a sight to behold driving around that top corner of the peak. The quirky twisted and jumbled arms of the Saguaro cacti are amusing and beautiful. Some even looked as if they were hugging themselves. Others had beautiful flowers standing on the tips of their arms. It was quite a nice park. ...

Today my mom and I left for our third adventure across the USA in our car moving towards (albeit on a somewhat random and very indirect course) our final stop in Upper Michigan, Bootjack where we will spend the summer. This years course is a very different one than in our past. We have really out done ourselves this time. We will be heading out from Santa Cruz on a nearly two week excursion across the very bottom of the US all the way until New Orleans and then heading almost directly up, through lower Michigan, to our final destination. ...

I looked out the window My chin resting on my open palm The glass fogged As I peered out Cars filled with people Some lonely, some afraid, some dead inside Some looking for life, and some giving up on it Trees blending into one another Black top, yellow lines Black top, yellow lines I pulled up my sleeve And wipe away the clouds Forming on my window I watch more cars pass by In a hurry to reach nowhere Each face in the car Blank as they stare forward Eyes only on the destination Not the beauty on the way A car pulls along side us Silver and low to the ground A mom talking on the phone But in the back Sat a little girl She was looking out of her window Right at me For a moment I just stared back It felt like an eternity That our eyes were latched together In that instant I knew her I knew her whole life And I am sure she knew mine She was the daughter ignored She made her own world Because the one she had Had no place for her in it I could see her parents in her eyes Arguing, yelling She heard it all through thin walls And cried herself to sleep at night She was the odd man out Always the child in the back seat She didn’t need them Or their fickle love She had all she needed But not all she wanted She made her own way Through a treacherous life And always would I raised my hand And waved to her I smiled and nodded slightly And she did the same And our cars moved on Our worlds separated Just a moment That our worlds touched I wonder what she saw in my life What she thought Of a stranger through a car window I just sat back and smiled My mom looked over at me and smiled back “What are you smiling at?” “Nothing” I reply Because no one could understand How I understood So I keep her world a secret Locked tightly away Of a daughter ignored And a world passing by

The post of the mailbox shook, reverberating the metal mailbox with a steady but anxious beat. Like a drum struck with hesitant but impatient strokes of a hand not quite large enough to have a melody or harmony of its own, the mailbox sang its steady tune. The hand struck the mailbox post absentmindedly, not even aware of the affect that enabled the mailbox to sing. Hanging listless and open the small hand swung like a pendulum back forward and down again, encountering the slowly splintering wood that was breaking apart under the stress that had not yet cracked the young boy. The pendulum of this grandfather clock belonged to a young boy and each swing of his short but sinewy arm kept the beat of a clock counting out the seconds, then minutes, and eventually hours of the day with all the consistency of the human heart and its resounding drumbeat. ...

Hands shaking as fingernails bite Into the palms of his hands Clenched into tight fists Trying to suffocate his rage Choking on words which burn In his throat like poison This bile in the belly of a monster Belongs not to a demon but a man With eyes that burn with anger Smoldering like embers in dark sockets Even as their fire dwindles Into the soft glow of feigned comfort They have the power to burn Power to set the world on fire But here and now His rage has no place Except in the quiver of his fist And the monstrosity of his eyes He lets out a long forced breath Letting his body go slack And his eyes slowly drift closed Wraps a controlled arm around His little girl’s shoulders Which shake with quiet little sobs Bringing her in close To shelter her from the world That took the light from his eyes Wrung out his heart until all that was left Was this bitterness, this rage This monster That even as this wrath builds in his chest He pushes it back down Forcing a gentle, unnatural smile on to his face Holding his daughter as she cries Turning his hollowed out chest Where his heart should have been Into a cove of resounding calm To harbor her heart and make sure That hers, unlike his, would survive The cold abrasive storm As he held her tight in his arms Looking ahead with dead determined eyes She would survive Even if that meant what was left of him died He slowly unclenched his fist Which had gathered in rage Opening it out of love To wipe the tears from her face And with a calm and controlled voice Hinted with the melancholy Of humanity’s cacophony He whispered in her ear Everything is going to be all right

This is not the way I thought it would be The light at the end of the tunnel Is not as bright as the stories said It is barely visible from the Unreal City The path is dusty and the doors lie On rusted hinges swaying in the wind The wind funnels down this dark corridor Screaming through the cracks under the doors Breathing life into those who are stuck behind its bars Who didn’t or couldn’t quite make it there Trapped with iron grips on cold prison walls Clinging with the fervor of rage Embittered to the roots of their soul Screaming back at the wind With tortured shrieks of terrors unknown As the breeze whispers into their ears Taunting melodies of the songs sung At the end, behind that backlit door That will remain just faints murmurs Of a world hidden from them By the darks gates of the city they built around them As they watch with sunken and darkened eyes From the prisons that they sealed themselves in Watching the slow progression of shadows Drawn like moths to the light That seems to grow dimmer at every passing moment Monsters pace in these dark rooms Consuming the light at every moment that door is opened Leaving no light for those who need it To guide their passage down this dark corridor The way is lost but we find ourselves not in a dark wood But a desolate earth Where the monsters roam not behind closed doors But in the light for all to see The light is gone and we must find the way back There is no Virgil here, no Beatrice to lend a hand Just the blind hands that reach out for light Not knowing what it looks like or how it feels We are lost, I am lost Listening to the screams in the wind Trying to sift out the song that may not be for me But is so close I can taste it The door is left unlocked And this unreal city is not home to me I promise This dust will not be all that is left of me

This evening around 6:30pm there was a rare annular eclipse of the Sun which was visible in Northern California. According to Professor Marcy at UC Berkeley an annular eclipse is “when the Sun, Moon, and Earth are lined up, but the Moon is farther than average from Earth, so it looks a bit too small to fully cover the Sun. Thus, if you are at one of the right places, the Sun will form a ring, or annulus, around the Moon. It’s a special, fun form of a partial solar eclipse.” ...

This is a small excerpt from a larger piece I have been working on for the last couple of months. Tentatively titled Avery’s Sojourn this excerpt is just a little blurb from the beginning. It is still a major work in progress but a couple of people have been asking for previews but everything is still under heavy construction and there is a lot of work to do still but here is a tiny glimpse into Avery’s life. Enjoy. ...

I just got back from a brief but wonderful visit with one of my oldest and best friends who now resides in Napa, California. Yes, that does mean I have an awesome excuse to visit the beautiful wine country just a short car ride away from Berkeley. She attends the Culinary Institute of America in Napa training to be a chef and baker! Yes, she is that cool. She showed me the place where she gets to learn how to cook and make pastries at the CIA and I was a little jealous. It is so different from the life I am living at college here at UC Berkeley that it was refreshing and new. ...

Weathered hands patiently adjust clothing that hangs looser everyday as time slowly wears away the very flesh of life Whittling away with an ever persistent knife That has had its blade at us since the beginning molding us from this shapeless lump of clay into something beautiful only to continue cutting away past the point of beauty into the world of obsession and tradition where we cut not because we must but just because we know nothing else. ...