Online Art Gallery, Volume 3

Welcome to another installment of Pathos Literary Magazine’s online art gallery! The flowers are blooming and beautiful, and the warmth of the Spring sun is finally shining on campus. The most recent issue of Pathos is currently on the stands around the hallways of PSU. We hope you consider submitting your unique artwork, poetry, and/or prose for publication in our next issue or online. Check out our social media pages to stay tuned for continuing updates and inspiration!

*

“Each of these photos were taken over the summer. They are representations of things I learned over the course of the summer. Disappearing Comrade is from a theater production I was in (over the summer) about WWII and current day performed entirely in German (this photo was taken during dress rehearsal); the character depicted in the photo is talking to one of his friends who was released from a concentration camp and he is unsure as to where his friend’s allegiance lies. Fine Wine is a representation of how we as humans and our style has changed over the years but our fundamentals remain in-tact. Protektor is a friend I was in the theatre production with who helped me when stress was added and feelings were hurt– he talked to me and kept me from anymore hurt feelings, not to mention he made me smile when I wanted to cry.”

– Josephine Claus

 

Disappearing Comrade

by Josephine Claus

Fine Wine

by Josephine Claus

Protektor

by Josephine Claus

*

Take a deep breath and…

by Jessica Layman

5

Count the grey flecks on the 16 doves in the ash tree.

The arch where we made our own rain.

Table set to tea for two, but it’s too cold now.

The dead and drying vines threaten from the fence.

Mug of coffee, still warm.

4

Fingers frozen against glass pains.

Tangles of hair twist and tickle red ear tops.

Blankets wrapped around shaking shoulders.

Bite of concrete on skin.

3

Revved engine trying too hard on back country roads.

Rustling from the compost.

Someone, somewhere, is mowing their lawn.

2

Petrichors thick from the last rain.

Aging dog with the sunshine teeth grinning.

1

Too much cream.

*

You Can’t See My Sick

by Jessica Layman

i slurp up my brain stem

resting in a bowl of spinal broth

 

touch of basil            sprinkle the jalapenos

 

sliced, not diced

reveal the seeds

sprout new roots

on the roof of my mouth

 

it hurts

 

not as much as last time

still the noodles scream

 

slightly salted and crushed moon

to settle the ache

*

Sabi Sands

by Karla Powell

Along deep rutted roads our guide’s keen eyes detect minutiae traced in dusty earth

decipher faintest prints, in paid pursuit of that most precious wild

which still remains, such as this lounging pride

 

whose direct gaze disarms

whose measured strolls, so nonchalant, glide past us

where we sit in open jeep

 

without legs we’re neutralized in these lion’s eyes

like torsos of store mannequins, we are an incomplete display

tourists of ecology, toting souvenirs of early man within our DNA

 

the oldest of these lazing cats rests his bloodied mane

atop the cavernous remains of last night’s kill

our tracker warns us not to stand, not to lend them recognition

 

should one charge would we reenter our fateful history

that enduring interplay, which pivots on uncertainty

over who is predator, who is prey?

Also read...

Comments are closed.