Story Transcript
Volume 27, Number 2 Spring 2023/ Volume 27, Number 1, Fall 2022
journal of arts & letters
THE DILLARD REVIEW THE DILLARD REVIEW, JOURNAL OF ARTS & LETTERS
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Heartfelt welcome to President Rochelle Ford, Inaugurated January 2023!
The Dillard Review, Journal of Arts & Letters Editorial Staff: Paulina Webber: Editor; Ashira Jones: Assistant Editor Editorial Assistants: Debra De llo, Kendall Dolo, Justin Dorsey, Nailah Starks, Thomas Dr. Mona Lisa Saloy, Faculty Advisor, English Program, School of Humanities College of Arts & Sciences, Dillard University English Program Volume 27, Number 2 Spring 2023/ Volume 27, Number 1, Fall 2022 Cover Art: Christopher Dyvonne (Von) Burton, ’24, Social Work Major (c) 2023 Dr. Mona Lisa Saloy, English Program, Dillard University, New Orleans, all rights reserved
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CONTENT Jus
n Dorsey, O People 4 Ashira Jones, Maybe If 5 Kendall Dolo, Run 6 Jus n Dorsey, Lamenta on for a Flame 7 Ren Jones, Grocery Run 9 Ren Jones, A Union of Souls 10 Art by Christopher Dyvonne (Von) Burton 11 DeAndrew Thomas, Another Day in America 12 Jaydin Walch, Arms Behind my Head 13 Art by Christopher Dyvonne (Von) Burton 14 Jus n Dorsey, Distantly Annoyed 15 Debra De llo, The Pandemic 16 Autumn Jemison, Here Comes Winter 17 Duron Dunbar, Le er to Them 18 DeAndrew Thomas, Being Black in America 19 Allen Miller, Two Sonnets 20 Ashira Jones, A Sonnet for Mom 21 Debra De llo, Father 22 Debra De llo, Thoughts of a College Student 23 Kendall Dolo, mama’s nostalgia 24 Allen Miller, Blue 25 Paulina Webber, Yellowman, a review 28
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By Justin Dorsey
O People what have we done? Are we not the world’s children too? Why must we su er the at the bo om, When those no be er than us thrive at the top? How can a barbarian call us savage? How can the student sneer at the master? Why are we the punchline of those more mediocre than their jokes? We have built grand homes of warmth, And slept in the dirt. We have cooked with love and baked with pride, And feasted on crumbs of ungrateful ngers ps. We have put on a show t for royalty, And been paid in disrespect. But keep rm in mind this is not a lament alone, But a point to be made. We are not clowns in their circus, Nor servants in their mansion. We are whatever We determine, And no one, be they roommate or tourist, can ing orders our way. But for this point to become law, we must accept our true friends and real enemies. Change can come, but will only if we are ready for it. 4
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OH PEOPLE
By Ashira Jones
Maybe if we listened to each other, We could have been be er, but You always had to be the rst. We would have realized the damage sooner. Predicted our survival as if life itself was over. Maybe if we listened to each other, The signs of our emo ons colliding with each other. Hindering the fact that their ac ons are hur ng the both of us. Ripping out each other's heart to ll pieces of our own. But would our words hold more meaning? Maybe? If we listened to each other? Maybe. If we listened to each other.
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Maybe If
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Run By Kendall Dolo My body ached for it, Curling towards anything that radiated warmth, And there was an abundance of anything In which I could partake but never did. So when the o er arose yet againThrough fate or whatever we’ve come to call itA spark ickered. Spo y and weak, But I fanned it. What appeared was a burning bushA ame I intended to contain. A car ride. Smug smiles. A well intended girl. A girl with good inten ons. That’s what I felt like: a girl. Nimble and clumsy. Small but obvious. A clamoring of non sequiturs thrown together to make a person of sortsA girl of sorts. That’s what I felt like a erwards: a girl. The halloween sodden air made everything simmer with suspense, In ways it wouldn’t have otherwise. It egged me on- told me to keep goingAs faux cobwebs and grinning jack-o-lanterns cheered all the while. The burning bush took a tree with it. I should have run. The room was a ipbook, S lls that come together to make mo on. A snake, a microphone, a bo le, a movie. I should have run. My bent towards anything that radiated warmth. Anything. Because when you know nothing, you can hope for anything. Imagine anything. That’s what intrigued me. His nothingness. An easygoing facade and his need of my anything. My nothing. The burning tree took it’s neighbor, who took its neighbor, Who now were all orange and wavy and hot. I should’ve run.
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Lamenta on for a Flame By Justin Dorsey O our Good King is murdered! And with his Great Banner torn, All His royal subjects do greatly mourn. Was His own honored lord that carried out the deed, Driven by his own hunger and desperate greed. At court he weaved his scheme, Hoping to convince others to support his dream. The King was o on His wanderings, Unable to interfere with the traitor’s conjurings. With some his voice held great sway, Though many leal men stood s ll in his way. When His Majesty returned, In His eyes a white ame burned. His unearthly countenance hushed the room, Convincing the traitor of his doom. But ee far away did that detestable wretch, Long before the King’s guard could catch. Though our wise Sovereign knew his rival was not done, Preparing the realm for what would come. His predic ons would prove deathly right, When that treacherous lord returned a er a fourth fortnight. In the dark hours when all were sleep, Mercenaries he led into the royal Keep. Without mercy he slayed the sentry, Ordering his followers to block all entry. But His Majesty was quick and cunning, And like dogs sent the enemy running. Though in the end their number was too great, So with His fair Queen did our King escape. To the ancient North their ship sailed, Seeking refuge in the keep where the Queen’s family hailed. From that storied land was an army raised, While to the south the Dragon gazed. Ba le a er ba le was fought, Till the foolish rebels were most distraught. Defeat had been all they had gained, Reminded that a worthy King s ll reigned. But alas the Saints are cruel, For it was our brave King who would lose the nal duel. With legions many and foreign born, The lives of true knights were cut and shorn.
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In the middle of that red eld, His mighty sword our King did wield. Come to face him was the leech himself, Eager to take the crown and increase his wealth. For over an hour did their swords meet, Though in the end it was the King’s men that laid at rebel feet. Our King was killed in the heat of dishonor, The traitor’s lackey stabbing him in the back of his armor. Only then was that snake able to use his bite, Severing our King’s head with his coward’s might. It was then that the Great Flame was put out, His loyal army slaughtered and cut down in a rout. To the King’s host no mercy was given, And through honorable lord’s heads pikes were driven. Such ghastly trophies were paraded through every street, So all would know of our King’s tragic defeat. When his shameful posturing was done, The lowly lord sat on the throne he had won. To this day that man is our master, And the once proud realm of Alba is a great disaster.
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Grocery Run By: Ren Jones
I went to Rouses on Sunday night to nd some produce I like. A head of le uce, carrots, a pair of pears— So many colors, what a sight! When my shopping was through, I made my way to the back of a long cue. I checked my phone as half an hour ew, and my hunger only grew. “CASH ONLY, SORRY,” read the sign at the front of the checkout line. Visa in hand, I was sure I did not have enough. I turned over my wallet looking for change, and a er nding a couple of coins, I had just about given up. A voice from behind said she had no problem sparing a dime. I asked, “Are you sure?” “Just get me next me,” she replied. A lady on my back with pinned up hair, gripping a telephone and an empty co ee cup— She’s the reason I believe in luck. We exchanged the change, some smiles and a “Have a nice day!” We shared only that moment, but I loved her anyway.
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A Union of Souls By: Ren Jones
The breath and the pace Unwavering undula ons of harmony and melody felt through The breath and the pace Spirits hang from the walls with watchful eyes and open ears listening to the echoes of their words The breath and the pace The sound that never dies the songs that will live on through the young souls who carry the torch who carry The breath and the pace Mingus and Monk Ellington and Evans Parker and Pastorius Inventors of The breath and the pace They stand before me on a stage, a union of souls unfolds before the eyes of unbothered listeners Young souls join with the old to fuel the undying The breath and the pace
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Art by: Christopher Dyvonne (Von) Burton
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Another Day in America By: DeAndrew Thomas
Oh God! Why do I s ll cry the same song? My people, s ll dying because of their skin. We’re scared to leave our house not knowing If we’ll come back in one piece And s ll I cry Oh God! What happens to those whose blood Stains the sidewalk as they are Only remembered by the seeping mark le By those who feel threatened by their presence. Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Another day I have to live in America.
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Arms Behind my Head By: Jaydin Walch
Breathe, Eyes open to the ceiling Breathe, Another day, same person, same feeling Stare at the mirror, black skin, brown eyes, white teeth say cheese Breathe Fresh morning air, ready to face the days. No worries, laid back, arms behind my head, Walking amongst the sun’s rays Who would have thought it would’ve been me Halted because of my tone of my skin My kind doesn’t always win Do as I am told, even when I did nothing wrong The ground painted by my chin Pressure against my voice, Pain in my voice, As I cry for help, Now why can’t I.... Breathe?
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Art by: Christopher Dyvonne (Von) Burton
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Distantly Annoyed By: Justin Dorsey
Holding on to anger isn't healthy, But being robbed isn't the vic m's fault. Senior year was supposed to be the best, Instead it was just the shortest. An an -clima c end to an experience six years in the making. I wanted a party with food and music and dancing and friends. Instead I got a Zoom call and a short ceremony (and not a bite to eat). Why did this have to happen to me? Why did it have to happen at all? Perhaps it's karma for all the mes I faked being sick to stay at home. God's sense of humor is as mysterious as the rest of His ways. I know it's in the past, But some memories never end. I'm red of worrying that every sni e or cough is some harbinger of death. Some may think me bi er, But I'm just distantly annoyed.
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The Pandemic By: Debra De llo
That day may have been a coincidence Or maybe it was just fate But that day was the day that changed my life. The gym was so hot as we walked around it And we weren’t ini ally supposed to be there But I remember asking for your name. You told it to me and we talked more, More about our backgrounds. Weeks went by and we grew closer, but only as friends. I wasn’t looking for a rela onship, and neither were you But then a pandemic happened. A pandemic that le us and the world locked inside of our homes As if we were in jail But social distancing was no match for us Because through the phone was our way to enjoy each other’s presence. Not physically, but mentally. Ah, the pandemic A na onal tragedy Something that le many devastated A mental rollercoaster ride A big factor in our rela onship A me that I was le alone with my thoughts Thoughts on what would happen if there were an us. If we hadn’t spent so many sleepless, countless nights laughing in the dark at a screen, Sharing personal experiences and dark thoughts Then who knows where we might have been now. Now, almost two years later We’re stuck together like glue. We’re inseparable. The pandemic is who to blame For the love we have for each other.
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Here Comes Winter By: Autumn Jemison
Cloudy days like these make me overthink the sunny ones Those long walks mel ng my skin into a deeper De ned Divine shade My hair in braids Swinging side by side Hands up the air I’m at the cookout I don’t have a care My body is craving for the great outdoors Sinking in the water on those hot days Rushing to eat the ice cream Keeping that paper towel handy Soaking up everything I can Before these rainy days lock me in Even in my sadness my body feels warm The days I could’ve done more I should’ve done more I brush it o Too o en I shi from past to future to present It’s hard to remember what I looked like back then All I can imagine is who I will be I forget who I already am I always think a mile a minute When I’m indoors Because hiberna on puts my life on a loop My bed swallowing me deeper in the sheets Dreaming about those great outdoor sunny days
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Letter to Them By: Duron Dunbar
Look I been through things I ain’t really healed from Feeling like you could be the doctor that can cure them Honestly I been trauma zed for real hun Scared to love cause my heart been killed a ton Surprised it keeps ge ng revived And it’s gh ng to stay alive I been depressed for so long un l I met you Gave me a bit a joy Before the storm that came through I fumbled a bag before And now you too I’m losing the sight of memories Feeling blinded and Alzheimer’s creep up Not Irish but felt you were giving me luck A er losing your energy I’m stuck
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Being Black in America By: DeAndrew Thomas
Being Black in America isn’t so easy The hatred we face would make Any of us crazy Our blood that drips on the side walked seamed Till death do us part I can no longer breathe Being black in America isn’t so easy The next day could be the last day with my family
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Two Sonnets By: Allen Miller
1. Oh where have I ended up in this world? Am I here, the spot that was meant for me? Through hate, and solitude I was hurled. Looking ahead, the path is hard to see. Confused, I had done everything correct. Went to class, did my work, I was the best. to comprehend I started to dissect. Why now I miss class and always need rest? I am red, been in school for eighteen years! I refuse to quit, nish line is in sight. I can’t quit, don’t believe in pointless tears I just pray and strive, my future is bright crossing the nish line is just the start crossing the stage is for my mama’s heart 2. What does my honor require of me? For I am not a man’s brand mother ensured I had a brain to beanything that my heart demand not the strongest not the tallest my face is bear, not the animal Not that rude and very modest no blood please, I am not a cannibal I wish to live life not pull the cord Not ght for a man who know not me This is not my ght but yours my lord my thoughts scream you are not worthy Why musn’t a man show doubt? Why musn’t a man cry out and shout?
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Art by: Christopher Dyvonne (Von) Burton
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A Sonnet for Mom By: Ashira Jones
How paren ng lies within the caves? Like the beginnings are always harsh. mother and daughter crash like waves. But built thickly and wide like a marsh. The rela onship grows all but murky. Conversa ons falter into frac ons. If only they knew that words were key. But words speak less than their ac ons. Take a note out of the Book of Psalms. Every line coming back as lyrical. A daughter is how a mother calms. A daughter being mother’s miracle. Danger lurks within bodies of water. Like a mother stands by her daughter.
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Father By: Debra De llo
He is the man that I have always known
I call on him any me I need him I know that he will always be my own He comes quickly, but never with a whim He is the rst that I have ever loved And the rst to show me what a love is No one could ever try to get above A love that is fully stronger than his He is there when I cry and when I’m down He knows all my favorites and hobbies He makes me feel as though I have a crown Maybe he’s the reason I act snobby I know that I am never a bother To the man that is always my father
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(Kwansaba) By: Debra De llo
College has the best ups and downs Par es un l the sun comes up Co ee keeps me awake and mildly sane Stress levels high like the Ei el Tower Money goes quicker than my laptop ba ery But it will all be worth it For my degree will state my name
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Thoughts of a College Student
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(Kwansaba) By Kendall Dolo
Mama says my eyes look like hers When she was in college. Dark. Molten Lava cake with a candle in itTwinkly, orangey, sweet. Auburn- warm. It’s fall. Kissed by the scraps of summer. We ip through mom’s old photos on the front porch. Doused in solace. Honeyed smiles.
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mama’s nostalgia
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Blue (Kwansaba) By: Allen Miller
This is a message to Mother Earth Are you okay? I am sorry. You have been there for us forever You challenge us to make us be er You give us your love every day All we do is take and abuse If you le we’d have an issue
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Yellowman By: Paulina Webber, a Review
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he Dillard University Theatre Department made an excellent presenta on of Yellowman wri en by Dael Orlandersmith. Yellowman is a two-man show that tells a love story of a young couple that faces challenges with colorism, alcoholism, paren ng and coming of age. The play is set in rural South Carolina. Alma is a dark-skinned, heavy-set child at the start of the play and Eugene is the opposite- light skinned and skinny. Alma and Eugene become friends although they appear very di erent, yet the struggles they face are the same but on opposite ends of the spectrum. Character Alma is reminded by her mother daily that she is development, big, Black, and ugly while Eugene is reminded by symbolism, and his father that he is so repetition were three a n d u n m a n l y. T h i s literary techniques drives Alma to despise her mother and want more for herself deciding to pursue college and that stood out. . . . leave behind her Gullah Geechee roots in South Carolina. Eugene spends his upbringing trying to gain his father’s love and prove that he is worthy of being his son despite his lightness resul ng in the ul mate consequence. Yellowman premiered in 2002, however its topics are relevant today. I found myself connec ng to some of the themes expressed in the play although not as extreme. The most interes ng aspect of the play and its wri ng is it features several characters, but there are only two physical ones, meaning all characters are played by the one man and one woman. This was especially exci ng because it displays the true talent of the actors. The two actors in the Dillard Theatre Department were fabulous in displaying the various emo ons of each character played and given them their own personality and voice through the one being. I read the play in the past, but to see it come alive on the stage this way was an experience within itself. Character development, symbolism, and repe on were three literary techniques that stood out in the play. Alma and Eugene literally grew into 27
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adulthood, but their perspec ves of the world and each other changed throughout the play. The symbolism of lightness and Blackness were excep onally signi cant to the play and exposed its impact on Black culture. I would take along adults for sure to see this play. Some of the language and themes represented are inappropriate for children. I would most be intrigued to watch and analyze with a dark-skinned person and a light skinned person to see if they could truly iden fy with the themes represented. I would not be surprised if this play has been or would be cri cized from a dark-skinned perspec ve as the dark-skinned experience was represented very nega vely. Although there is room for cri cism, I found the themes in Yellowman to be crea vely wri en. The performance given by the Dillard University Theatre Department was absolutely wonderful and like no other. It was hard to believe that these were students performing, I was le speechless!
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BIOS Debra De llo is a sophomore and class of 2025 student at Dillard University. From New Orleans, Louisiana, she majors in English. She is an Honor Roll student, Dean's Scholar, and a member of Sigma Tau Delta English Honor Society. Duron Dunbar, a senior Theater Major, from Metairie, Louisiana who started wri ng poetry at the age of ten. Autumn Jemison is a gradua ng senior in the class of 2023 as a Film Major with a double minor in English and Accoun ng. She is originally from Nashville, TN. She is a former alumni of the Entertainment Industry College Outreach Program (EICOP) and current nalist for the HBCU in LA. She will be in LA interning at Wild Card Crea ve Group as an Editorial Intern this summer. Ashira Jones is a junior in the class of 2024 at Dillard University as she majors in English. She was bribed and raised in New Orleans, LA. Ashira is an Honor Roll Students, The Dillard University’s English Club Secretary, Assistant Editor of The Dillard Review, and a member of Sigma Tau Delta Honors Society. Lauren Jones is a Mass Communica ons major from Harvey, Louisiana. Allen Miller is a junior English major from New Orleans. DeAndrew Thomas from Thibodaux, Louisiana. Class of 2025, Sophomore English Major. Campus Vo ng Project Democracy Fellow. Aspires to a end law school in Fall 2025. Paulina C. Webber is a gradua ng senior at Dillard University hailing from Li le Rock, Arkansas. Paulina is an aspiring prosecu ng a orney pursuing a Bachelor of Arts degree in English and is a part of the Pre-Law program. Paulina is heavily involved in a number of organiza ons on Dillard’s campus while maintaining a spot on the Dean’s List. She is a member of Sigma Tau Delta Interna onal English, Alpha Chi, Alpha Kappa Mu and Omicron Delta Kappa Na onal Honor Socie es. Paulina currently serves as the Na onal Pre-Alumni Council (NPAC) President, Vice-President for the Thompson/Cook Honors program, co-captain of the Honda Campus All-Star Compe on (HCASC) team, a UNCF Panda Cares Scholar, and President of the Beta Upsilon Chapter of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Incorporated. In her spare me, Paulina enjoys volunteering, reading, and traveling. Jayden Walch is a junior Visual Arts Major, from Kansas City Kansas, who writes beau fully. Ar st nomde-plume “Smyle.”
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HUMANITIES EVENTS
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YELLOWMAN WINS BIG EASY AWARD 2023! Best University Theater Production “Head Over Heels,” Loyola University (Tie) “Yellowman,” Dillard University (Tie)
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JOURNAL HISTORY The Dillard Review, a Journal of Arts & Le ers applies students’ acquired crea ve and academic publishing skills. A mainstay of public expression of the English Program and student writers at Dillard University, The Dillard Review con nuously publishes student crea ve works in art, wri ng, folkways, and fosters publishing skills for interested students. Contents re ect the ideas and crea ve works of students only and does not re ect the Board of Trus es, Administra on, Faculty,or Sta of Dillard University or its supporters. Published originally in 1995 as To Be Con nued, a Literary Journal; the journal was a signi cant arm of The Crea ve Wri ng Program’s innova ve design, one of the rst HBCU wri ng programs to adopt na onal standards established by the Associa on of Writers and Wri ng Programs [AWP]guidelines but was folded fully into English post-Katrina ooding; currently, students for the Minor in English may combine crea ve courses as well. English provides a solid founda on in the arts for developing writers who will 1) submit professional packages for awards and ar st residencies; 2) produce a compe ve crea ve por olio for graduate school admission; and 3) perform and publish their crea ve work. The pre-requisite for all English courses and the minor in English is passing English 112, Argument and Research. English o ers crea ve courses that include study in the chosen genre (crea ve non- c on (essays or memoirs); drama (playwri ng) & screenwri ng; c on (short stories and novels); poetry and spoken word, plus a study of wri ng industry skills, including edi ng, layout and design, literary journal produc on, and graphics basics with introductory founda ons course, plus advanced courses when desired. In August 2005, at the beginning of the fall term, the journal was re-named The Dillard Review, a Journal of Arts & Le ers published by the English Program and its students. English Program, School of Humani es, College of Arts & Sciences at Dillard University 2601 Gen lly Blvd., New Orleans, Louisiana T: (504-816-4450) www.dillard.edu/humani es Donate to Dillard University/EnglishProgram (c) 2023 Dr. Mona Lisa Saloy, English Program, Dillard University, New Orleans, all rights reserved
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