Below are a few pieces from the 2017 edition, showcasing some examples of work that has been accepted in the past. To purchase a copy of the 2017 edition, send an email to voices@westvalley.edu
Tae Kim
Roses
Did She Say No?
Brianna Torres
Have you ever smelled spoiled milk? I have.
It swirls around in your nostrils
And never fades
Much like the thick smog that
Permeates the cities
A pungent aroma, like onions or garlic
A deafening smell that engulfs glass lenses
Splits the willow tree
Forcing animals to take cover.
A mechanical bull thrashing about
Leaving unexpected bruises between your thighs
Its putrid carcass lingers in the shadows
Preying on the weak
Eroding every inch of caked on flesh
Until suddenly–
Its gone.
Its gone and you find yourself missing its
Rancid acquaintance
Fearfully awaiting its presence
Like a horror film
suspenseful, domineering,
Pompous.
It reeks of molded sour cream
Just a dollop
Moistness that makes you cringe
And dew drops melt
Acid down your cheeks
Gagging on each gulp of air
She asked for it.
Chloe Taylor
Fashion Illustrations
Crossroads by Annie Hays
Crossroads
Hanging in the valley,
lies a slight town
shrouded in droplets.
A distorting twilight haze
covers forgotten secrets,
hiding beneath its veil.
Over: a decrepit train station,
a stranded rotting bench
under a wrinkled woman.
Her chest rises with frost,
falls in white flames,
sending tunnels through
the thin vapor.
Her twistedness
trapped in willful spirit
beneath taut skin,
pins down hope.
Through spans of desolate years,
the bodied crossroads
turn nourishment,
to states of putridity,
leaving larva to feed
on everything lovely, young, hopeful,
until nothing’s left–but a shell.
An emptiness above a porous pew,
a congregation of clouds
creeping through cracks,
listening for a preacher
without any words.
Red to green and back again,
the stoplight colors,
swirl bereft of signs,
or signs of wanderings–
an emaciated town drifts
deeper down into the gorge.
