Northeastern Illinois University - Beehive Yearbook (Chicago, IL)

Page 21 text:

SOFT NERVES (For Emily Dickinson) The ice— a sight eye reflecting prisms, this haunts you because you know one day you died and never remembered, The sun unbelievably sweeping strength sky, your violence looking (not to be confused with hate) in a subtle world we miss all truth, (now this is not the last time around) and you know it! (now this is still not understood) yet . . . The frost tinting twilight, is designed by one artist I walked athletically through white inferno, I ' m in love with warmth of snow red faced dancing to a vision. (now in New York the bells are stirring your emotions) You realize nothing is born In sameness And continue to glorify the muse. Each house is mysticism because you could not stop (for this was in a dream) You had to find the stop You continued. You left me there. As if no soul, the silence blew wild It went so quick you wondered what language this was, (like Busia in another body or Aeolus, king of winds) The lake shores breath is motionless. The earth is moving Birds are dripping in sun (now you are not tripping) rather going home to close The silence, you need ' nt understand the trains movement or war. none see, or remember you when you knew me— Emily. Rose Lesniak