Saturday, December 7, 2013

The Omen By Mammedaty, 1880-1932

 

Another season centers on this place,
Like memory the blood congeals in it;
And like memory, too, the sun recedes
Into the hazy, southern distance.
.
A vagrant heat hangs on the dark river,
and shadows turn like smoke. An owl ascends
among the branches, clattering, remote
within its motion, intricate with age



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Saturday, November 16, 2013

Dr. David Henneberry Named New Interim Associate VP of International Studies & Outreach

 

Monday, August 16, 2010
 
David Henneberry On Friday, August 13th, OSU Provost Robert Sternberg named Dr. David Henneberry as the new Interim Associate Vice President (AVP) of International Studies & Outreach. Dr. Henneberry currently serves as Director of International Ag Programs in the Division of Agricultural Sciences & Natural Resources and will serve in both positions until a permanent AVP can be hired next summer. Dr. Henneberry, whose primary office will be in 107 Wes Watkins Center, steps in to replace Dr. Mark Weiser, who assumed the position in March after Dr. James Hromas retired. Dr. Weiser wanted to return to his position as Associate Dean in the Spears School of Business by the beginning of the new 2010-11 Academic Year. In making the announcement, Dr. Sternberg said, “Dr. Henneberry has a demonstrated passion for international education and certainly understands the importance of our many outreach activities. He is eager to begin working with individuals across campus to enhance international programs and services offered to our students and faculty.”








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Thursday, October 17, 2013

Canto NoLLA by Anita Endrezze Probst

 

Black wolf, naked night-hunter,
You crouch in the corner and growl.
Your howling eclipses my pleas
and the sharp glasses rip open your mouth
with the quick surge of an eagle's anger.
.
You dark spirit, trying to hide the blood
and spill it on me in rage;
Baring your hard jaw and black hair,
while your crawl, trying to see the moon,
once you told me that
the moon was in my eyes.



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Thursday, September 19, 2013

She Is Super Fine: A Feature on Christy Fine, Sectional Coach

 


Christy FineChristy Fine, sectional coach, is now in her twenty-second year of teaching for the Edmond Public Schools. After teaching band in Putnam City for five years, Mrs. Fine came to Edmond to begin the Summit string program, and as Edmond School System expanded, she added the directing duties at Santa Fe High School to her schedule. Mrs. Fine is a graduate of Central State University where she received her Bachelors of Music Education Degree. Since beginning her teaching career, Mrs. Fine has been listed in the Who’s Who Among America’s Music Teachers and honored to be the Most Influential Teacher by two different students at the Oklahoma School of Math and Science. Mrs. Fine is very active in various Professional Music Organizations including having served on the OSSAA Board of Advisors, president of the North Central Honors Orchestra board, being Chairman of the OMEA All-State Orchestra and holding the position of Vice President of Orchestra for the Oklahoma Music Educators. Mrs. Fine also conducts the Chamber Strings Orchestra in the summer at the Arkansas University Summer Music Camp in Fayetteville, Arkansas. Mrs. Fine is married to musician Joe Fine and their two boys, Derek and Aaron both play the violin.



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Friday, August 23, 2013

The Omen By Mammedaty, 1880-1932

 

Another season centers on this place,
Like memory the blood congeals in it;
And like memory, too, the sun recedes
Into the hazy, southern distance.
.
A vagrant heat hangs on the dark river,
and shadows turn like smoke. An owl ascends
among the branches, clattering, remote
within its motion, intricate with age.





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Tuesday, July 30, 2013

The Minute Moments

 

 
 

lovable days,
heart-warming touches,
promising hopes,
Fresh southern peaches,
Unforgettable splays,
smiling dishes,
Classical movies,
mutual understood wishes,
Under moonlight, we dance the minuet,
Unintentionally, we have love revealed.







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Tuesday, July 16, 2013

I was feeling peculiar...by Jenny Matlock


...perhaps it was surviving the geothermal mineral baths...
 
Perhaps it was just my crazy imagination...
 
Whatever the reason...
 
I'm pretty sure.
 
Or at least kinda/sorta sure...
 
...there were ghosts at the lodge we stayed at on Friday night.
 
...
 
I didn't feel the ghosts when we were driving to the lodge and stopping to peer in windows of old buildings.

 
I didn't feel the ghosts when we saw deer and antelope (at play) on our route...
 
 
or when we were driving up the miles long driveway...


...or when we checked into our lovely room...
 
...or when we explored the grounds and found these ruins...



...but when I was laying in bed and reading the literature on the property I began to feel some ghostly ... ummm... ghosts.
 
The lodge was converted in 1928 to a home for seven unruly "mentally peculiar" children.
 
Hey. 
 
Don't get irritated at me for the possibly politically incorrect language.
 
That's what the literature said.
 
Click here to see for yourself.
 
And although the lodge was later converted to fancier things and eventually donated to the Nature Conservancy...
 
Still.
 
I'm certain there was a ghost or two around the night we slept there.
 
And even though we had an amazing breakfast with a beautiful view...
 
I was happy to skedaddle out of there on Saturday.
 
I wasn't homesick or anything.
 
It was really, truly the ghosts making me want to go home.
 
"Go home...go home..." they whispered to me.
 
So.
 
We did.
 
THE END.
 
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Friday, July 5, 2013

Deep-Sea Squeeze by Eric Ode

 
 
   
I’m wrapped from top to bottom
in an octopus embrace
with seven arms around my waist
and one across my face.

It all began this morning
with a scuba diving trip.
I found the creature wedged beneath
a sunken pirate ship.

So, carefully, I dug him free.
He offered no objection
but covered me in tentacles
with octopus affection.

It seems I’ve made a friend today,
but this I’d like to know:
How do you say, in octopus,
“You’re welcome. Please let go”?



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Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Pentimenti By Kay Ryan

 

It's not simply
that the top image
wears off or
goes translucent;
things underneath
come back up,
having enjoyed the
advantages of rest.
That's the hardest
part to bear, how
the decided-against
fattens one larger down,
free of the tests
applied to final choices.
In this morning,
for this painting,
for instance, see how
a third arm-
long ago repented
by the artist-
is revealed,
working a flap
into the surface
through which
who knows what
exiled cat or
extra child
might steal.



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