Friday, October 28, 2016

Space, Katy Comber

One Space
by Katy Comber

Space
I tug at the word
carve it out 
for one
in the roots of a tree
in the vacuum of an undertow
in the orbit of a slightly tilting planet
I carve it
I crave it
Then invasion! 
My space 
narrows
shifts 
and is altered  
now it sits on me 
like ill-fitting sweater
and longer suits my frame 
of mind 
if you’re not filling it too 


The Space Cadet
by Katy Comber

I’ve never dreamed 
of being an astronaut
swimming in the sea 
of stars
but I’ve been called
a space cadet 
for my mind seems 
to find greater pleasure 
in other worlds 


Thursday, October 27, 2016

Indie Film Series, Gallagher and Lieberman: Allagash, Maine // Canoeing 120 Miles

The talented aspiring videographers Mike Gallagher and Nathaniel Lieberman chronicle a 120 mile canoeing trip with their closest friends.



Tuesday, October 11, 2016

Old Works, Sheyna Land


Same Art 
by Sheyna Land, 2010

Long time no see, my friend.
No, you haven't been on my mind, 
Rolling around like a bead in my hand. 
Never do I
Wish I could pry open the frame,
Pull back the glass, and
Burrow through the pictures--
Steal back into our unsuspecting smiles, 
Crawl into our carefree embrace. 
I never look upon us -no, never!-
As an artist beholds his broken pieces
Blaming himself for putting it too close to the edge 
Or for assuming its strength
Would withstand
the
Fall. 



Tryst
By Sheyna Land, 2011

Upon the wall
Strange shapes did fall
Like children's sparklers spinning. 
Their ebb and flow
Like waves did go,
First swelling up, then thinning. 
These shadows cast
Did move so fast,
Like evanescent streamers. 
So queer a sight
In candle's light
Might turn us all to dreamers. 
Closer I crept
To further inspect
The place these forms did hallow; 
When then, found I
A lonesome fly
Dancing with its shadow.




When I Still Feel You, 2011
By Sheyna Land 


When I still feel you most 
Is when I
don’t. 

Afterward, it’s the stillness.
The            quiet
Like houses after holiday
When the faces have gone, 
their laughter sticking in the air like the 
Crimson stains in leftover goblets 
This one has 
a
crack 

When I first felt you, it surprised me, like 
The throng of a party in
the kitchen
The belly of the house 
Life jumping all at once, like a gale of laughter at the table 

You are not gone
You are just still
You couldn’t come to the party. We understood.

But we will come to you.

Old Works, Katy Comber

Note from the Author: This was written before I learned the proper way to format a script. It was incredibly fun to dig this out and read it again.

THE DINNER PARTY

Characters in order of appearance:
Narrator/Writer
Clint the Man with cliches
Judy the Woman who judges
DG/Husband
Colby the Cult Leader


Summary: Family Dinner is takes place with a variety of characters having family dinner in the mind of a struggling writer. The writer has invites them to a imaginative, weekly, family dinner as part of her creative process. This week is exceptional because it is a celebration of her husband, the only actual person in her life,  leaving her because she was too focused on her work to notice him despite his antics. Husband is the both the dinner guest and enters at the end of the play to his wife sitting at a table set for 6 and eating a large cake by herself.


The stage is set with dining room adjacent to the front door. A long table set for six people is center stage. The place settings are as such: Narrator at one end, DG, Judy, Colby, Clint, other head of table is set with a laptop instead of a plate, silverware on either side and other place-settings are the same. Dinner is set out family style. Characters never actually sit in their chairs but rather stand and interact behind them.


On stage: Narrator, Clint, and Judy. The doorbell rings. Narrator answers and DG enters.

DG: Hello. I’m here for family dinner.

Narrator: Welcome! Is this your first one? I’ve never seen you before, and I’ve been invited to them all.

DG: Yes. The writer started on my story after John set fire to the kitchen and she didn’t notice until the smoke got between her and the screen.

Narrator: The week he left? Boy, you must be extremely angry or--

Clint walks up.

Clint: A bird in a gilded cage.

DG: I’m actually still in development. So, mostly naive and confused at this point.

Narrator: I see. Well I’ll try to introduce you to everyone. With the writer in this state of mind, the characters may be a random set. How should I introduce you?

DG: Well, at the moment I have seven possible names.

Narrator: Nothing new around here. Usually we call your kind DG and leave it at that.

DG: DG?

Narrator: Short for the Dinner Guest. It’s better than the original plan to number you.

DG: Okay. Well, I’m not sure what my opinion is about all this yet, so for now I’ll assume I’m fine.

Old works, Harrison Comber

Note from the photographer: I took this picture when I was nine. I was being homeschooled and taking a photography class at my co-op. This is one of the first pictures I've taken and it was with my mom's phone. I'm learning how to use a Nikon now, and the experience is better with an actual camera, but I still like to play around on my mom's phone and instagram.


Old Works, Melissa Taggart

Note from the Author: I have no idea when I did this.  Maybe fourth grade. Definitely on a typewriter.


Old Works, Rebecca Tabbutt

Note from the Author: I resisted the extremely strong urge to edit. 

Don't die, I whisper
To the clinging vines
Wrapped tight across the hard rough stones.
My hands
Themselves rough and hard
Stroke the velvet vine
Its once hearty leaves
Drooping
Under the weight of the heavy rain.

That vine was once my comfort.
On the sleepless nights
I would wander
To its cool green bed
And when it had been ripped apart
By anger at its creeping growth
I would nestle down
Among its broken arms
And let them heal around me.

Don't die, not now
Not ever.
Even when you're cut apart
Thrive for me.
When tiny insects plague your leaves
Live for me.
So I might stumble
Little sleep
Into your waiting arms.

-E. Rebecca Woodward, July 1995

Indie Series, Krystle N. Adams

This may be an new work, but it's the first opening sequence of a web series project by Krystle Adams. Enjoy!