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LAND ACKNOWLEDGMENT We would like to acknowledge that the home of The Bellwether Review , Portland Community College’s Rock Creek campus, is located on the land of the Atfalati-Kalapuya tribes (also known as Tualatin Kalapuya), who were among the First People living in what we currently call Washington County. In 1855, the Atfalati tribes were forced to sign a treaty relinquishing ownership of their land . Today, the Kalapuya people are members of the Confederated Tribes of the Grande Ronde, located southwest of Washington County. We also want to acknowledge and thank the original stewards of the land throughout the area which PCC serves today, including the Molalla; the Multnomah, Kathlamet, and Clackamas bands of the Chinook; as well as the many other Tribes who have made their homes along the Columbia River. We, the editors, have chosen to include this land acknowledgment as an active commitment to supporting contemporary Indigenous sovereignty by promoting awareness and fostering dialogue as a contribution toward decolonizing the oppression which has resulted from systemic policies of colonization—including genocide, relocation, broken treaties, and assimilation. The Bellwether Review seeks to highlight the diversity of linguistic and artistic expression of student voices on the Rock Creek campus and throughout the PCC community; with this in mind, we want to acknowledge the absence of voices that might otherwise have been thriving today, if it were not for the practices of forced cultural assimilation that leads to the loss of fluency in local Indigenous languages. The last known fluent speaker of Tualatin Northern Kalapuya, Louis Kenoyer ( baxawádas ), died in 1937. Kenoyer’s memoir, My Life: Reminiscences of a Grande Ronde Reservation Childhood , translated into English from Tualatin Northern Kalapuya, is available at the PCC Rock Creek Library. We encourage readers of The Bellwether Review to honor the journal’s connection to the history of the land upon which it is produced by supporting and promoting organizations that are working to cultivate and honor contemporary Indigenous cultures in a variety of ways, such as PCC’s Native Nations Club , Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde , Confederated Tribes of Siletz Indians , The NAYA Family Center , Salmon Nation , and the First Nations’ Native Language Immersion Initiative . Learn more about the Kalapuya people by exploring Kalapuyan Tribal History , Pacific University’s Indigenous History of Oregon , and the Five Oaks Museum’s online exhibition, This IS Kalapuyan Land . The Bellwether Review editorial team would like to thank PCC Native Nations Club Coordinator Karry Kelley (Yahooskin/Modoc) and Dr. Blake Hausman (Cherokee Nation), PCC faculty in English and Native American Studies, for advising us on crafting this acknowledgment.

The Bellwether Review A Student-Led Literary and Arts Journal Spring 2023 art poetry fiction Nonfiction Thank you for visiting our website. The Bellwether Review is a literary journal that hopes to promote and inspire creativity amongst those not only at PCC Rock Creek, but throughout the community. We hope you take the time to review these great pieces that were sent in to us and selected for publication by our editorial team. Visit our Submissions page if you are interested in having your work considered for publication. Email us at bellwetherreview@gmail.com with any questions. Letter from the Editors Dear Reader, This edition of The Bellwether Review is special in two ways from previous editions. It is the first print edition to be published after the Covid-19 restrictions were lifted, and will be the first edition to be published alongside its online companion at bellwetherreview.com . Our editing team is honored and privileged to have witnessed the amazing levels of beauty, creativity, bravery, thought, and emotion infused by the Contributors into all of their submissions. Each piece was reviewed, discussed, and carefully selected by us with you, and a profound respect for the act of artistic creation, in mind. The Bellwether Review is created by the students of Portland Community College for the purpose of being enjoyed by all it can reach, and the editorial team would like to thank you for exploring and enjoying the contributions of our fellow students contained within these pages. With gratitude, The 2023 Editorial Team MEET THE 2023 EDITORS Copyright © 2023 Portland Community College Portland Community College reserves all rights to the material contained herein for the contributors’ protection. On publication, all rights revert to the respective authors and artists.

Fiction The Fool Gigi Giangiobbe-Rodriguez The Red's Death Matt Smith

MEET THE EDITORS A high-adrenaline enthusiast with an endless supply of energy, Claire Batchelder has been writing for as long as she can remember, and these days she writes a solid mix of poetry and fiction. She has been rock climbing for eight years and scuba diving for five, and her inspiration draws heavily from the natural world she’s encountered—and the disturbing changes she’s witnessed. Claire has submitted an assortment of poems and a piece of nonfiction for publication in several journals, and she’s currently revising a fiction story. When she’s not writing or adventuring in the outdoors, she’s cuddling with her husky, Artemis. Jonathan Bennett is a 21-year-old writer from Oregon currently attending Portland Community College. Jonathan works as both a Poetry and Fiction editor for this journal. They have been writing on and off since their junior year at Mountainside High School, taking a gap year to find another but ultimately going back to writing. They plan on transferring to Portland State University for a Creative Writing degree, and they hope to someday write lore for a good indie game. They mainly want to pursue fiction writing, but that’s currently taken a backseat to their newly found passion for poetry. Outside of writing, they enjoy hiking, listening to Midwest emo music, playing games a bit too competitively, and hanging out with their amazing partner. “O Time thy pyramids.” —Jorge Luis Borges Hunter Bordwell-Gray is a lifelong Portland resident and half-a-lifelong writer. What was first a dead set passion on becoming a novelist in the third grade has since warped and evolved into a much broader love of writing. His inspirations draw from a roulette wheel of nature, analog horror podcasts, and music to create . . . whatever the intersection of those three things creates. Mostly poetry, but who knows what it may be tomorrow! Quinn Brown is a trans and indigenous Portland writer and poet. Since writing from a very young age, Quinn found herself pursuing a passion for writing in all different forms, from varying genres of fiction to poetry. Her key inspirations for most of her writing comes from a place exploring identity, culture, and where those ideas overlap. Sean P. Hotchkiss is one of the Typesetting Editors, as well as our Art Editor and Web Editor. Proud father of three, grateful partner of one, and widower. Sean is in his last term towards earning an A.A.S. Business: Marketing degree at Portland Community College (PCC) with plans to pursue a Masters degree in clinical mental health. He rediscovered his love of writing after returning to college after three gap-decades. In addition to owning a small marketing support firm, he is a reading and writing tutor at the PCC Sylvania Campus. In addition to being a second time contributing editor and author in The Bellwether Review, Sean was also a presenting author at the 2023 PCC Groundswell: a Conference of Student Writing. “I am the puppet master! You’re a puppet in a play, and I hold all the strings! And cards, still got the cards. I’ve got the cards in one hand, and the strings in the other hand, and I’m making you dance around, like a puppet, playing cards.” —Wheatley, Portal 2 . Who’s that fine lookin’ fellow with the sexy hair, the one whose opinions on style choices were like black sheep? Why, that’s Adam Idris , baby! His very first year of college and he’s already dabbling in the art of publications, maybe he’s hoping to get his own stories published. What kinda stories, you may ask? Just your typical fiction, filled to the brim with laughs, action, witty one-liners and loveable characters. What a guy, am I right? “Butterflies can’t see their wings. They can’t see how truly beautiful they are, but everyone else can.” —Naya Rivera Bo Leo , one of our Typesetting Editors and Proofing Editors, is an aspiring author who resides in the Pacific Northwest. Their deep appreciation for animals and nature is evident in their writing, which typically focuses on themes of identity and trauma. When they’re away from their desk, you can find them reading, painting, daydreaming, spending time with their pets, or enraptured by the music of one Alessia Cara. Megan McGrory is an avid consumer of media who’s lived in Washington, Alaska, and finally Oregon. She has been writing since before she could technically write, getting her mother to write down her stories for her. Her greatest passion is prose, particularly fantasy and science fiction. Aside from writing, Megan loves to read, watch movies and tv, perform on stage, and analyze media through a feminist lens. One of her greatest passions is napping with her cat, Spooky. You can always edit a bad page. You can’t edit a blank page.” —Jodi Picoult Randall Camden Stemple is a PCC student who enjoys spending most of his free time reading, writing, and watching whatever slop YouTube recommends. This of course, in-between bouts of struggling to format his dialogue and working as the Correspondence Editor. If at any point you received an email from The Bellwether Review , it was most likely from him, and if you at any point noticed the inconsistent manner in which he formatted each email, please keep it to yourself.

DEAR CREATOR Mercedes Shafer I do not know myself. I do not know my worth. I do not know why I am here. But it must be for your paycheck. I do not know why you need me. I do not know why it is a must. I do not know your point of reasoning. But it is simple, I am just not enough. I do not know what I am meant to do. I do not know why you use me. I do not know if I am of any help. But it’s is easy to see, I am nothing much. I do not know my identity. I do not know your tests. I do not know where I belong. But what I do know, Is that I do not know you. Mercedes Shafer Mercedes Shafer: I am 18 years old and have always used poetry as a way to express how I feel. I took the Writing 242 poetry workshop at PCC and found that poetry helped me with my feelings a lot more than I thought. When creating “Dear Creator” I did not originally have a specific person that I was thinking about, but after some fixing up, I began to have a person in mind. I left it as “Dear Creator” to give the readers some room on how they want to interpret it.

THE FOOL Gigi-Giangiobbe-Rodriguez The man on the bicycle’s name is Tony, short for Antonio. Antonio was his father’s name, sour on his tongue like spoiled milk. He ditched Antonio and he goes by Tony, hoping he can pass as an Anthony. He had always thought Anthony sounded like someone who graduated from high school, maybe even from college. Someone with a dad who didn’t punch on his mom every night and whose mom didn’t have two separate personalities on a good day. Tony could have been the guy who graduated college if he had kept pedaling, but as it was, he hopped off his bike and wandered, often. Tony had one hand on his ruby red bicycle and one hand on his cherry red gasoline drum that he just filled to the brim. Tony is as red as they come. His nose and ears are crimson from the gout. His eyes are bloodshot from years of drinking, smoking, and crying. That, and he doesn’t get much sleep. He’s been called a commie, socialist, anti-capitalist, revolutionary, Rudolph, bashful, flaming, angry—and he was most of these things. Even his bank account inched closer to being in the red every day. It wasn’t that he had spent more money than he’d made; the real problem was that he hadn’t had a job in decades, and that was just fine with him. He was pedaling through the Tenderloin district in San Francisco, where he had lived for twenty‑five years. He had seen more grown men’s pricks and backsides last year in the Tenderloin than he did in his whole tour in Germany. Very often, the noise and smells of this neighborhood brought his mind traveling back to the barracks, to a time when he didn’t know what tomorrow would bring and it scared him, but at least he hadn’t completely given up yet. His mp3 player broke last week, so today while he rides he hums “Killing Yourself to Live” by Black Sabbath. He has a beautiful voice, though no one ever hears it. Tony was well aware as he wandered through the streets that people assumed he was homeless, and that comforted him. The average person with their life together doesn’t bother to look at homeless people, to really see them or ask how they’re doing. He doesn’t want eyes on him, or questions directed at him. Today, as he made his commute in obscurity, he was bringing his full gasoline drum to his fire engine red Buick Skylark, which had been sitting in the same spot for months, on one of the only streets in San Francisco that remained unmetered and unpermitted. He had only received two street-sweeping tickets the whole time his car had been there, and that’s because it is an insanely steep and zigzaggy hill that most street- sweeping drivers conveniently “forget” to go up on their weekly route. *** He pedals past the weirdos he feels kinship with in the Haight Ashbury neighborhood, nodding at the few that make eye contact, keeps riding past Buena Vista Park, and hops off when he hits Belvedere Street. He squints through his sweat and scans the middle of the block for his rusty Buick, where he knows he left it. It takes him several seconds longer than it should to realize his car has been towed, or stolen, it really doesn’t matter which. Lungs burning with exercise and rage mingling with humiliation, he throws the gas drum and hears it thud and crack. Angry tears burn his eyes and he hopes someone lights a cigarette right now right this very moment and blows it all to fucking hell. Tony wishes he had a lighter or cigarettes on him because he is starting to get some sick thoughts and wants to do some sick things, and then the corner of the letter in his shirt pocket pokes him and snaps him out of his fury. He starts to walk his red bike over to the park, leaving the leaking red drum and the memory of his red car behind. He is drawn to a grove of towering eucalyptus trees, their bark torn and falling apart. He walks for a while as his anger turns to sadness and self-pity, the emotion he is most comfortable with. After about an hour, Tony finally sits on a large tree stump and feels for the contents of his breast pocket. Avoiding the piece of paper, he grabs the doobie next to it instead. Shit, he thinks, I don’t have a goddamn light. He walks up to a homeless man and offers a couple hits for a spark. *** By the time he returned to his stump, Tony had calmed considerably, and the breeze filtering through the grove was tepid like his mood. He took off his shoes and felt the grass with his toes. There was a letter from his son in his pocket that he hadn’t found the courage to read yet. His son had not contacted him for years, and considering Tony’s absence and behavior he more than understood this choice. Seeing the envelope in his mail slot made Tony feel both excited and ashamed. He took the letter out of his pocket and stared at his name on the envelope, inches away from a little red stamp, and was hit by a wave of nausea and jitters. Maybe after this smoke I’ll read it. But probably not. Most likely not. Where he sits, the salty ocean air is veiled by an herbaceous, arboreal smell. The eucalyptus trees and sweet bay laurels commanded his attention, and so while he sat and smoked he stared up at their peeling trunks. Every day it gets a bit harder to breathe, and the joint is probably hurting more than helping him, but he doesn’t care. Tomorrow, he will read the letter. Tomorrow. Gigi Giangiobbe-Rodriguez Gigi Giangiobbe-Rodriguez is a writer based in Portland, Oregon but was raised in Oakland, California. She’s never met a tree she didn’t like and has what some would call an acute addiction to tea. When Gigi is not amassing books faster than she can read them, she’s writing, snacking, or scream-singing karaoke at a dive bar with her husband and their friends. Her current works include her chapbook: I’m Okay, I Promise . Gigi writes personal essays, memoir, prose poetry, poetry, fiction, and occasionally takes a stab at other genres. Her research essay on Indigenous voter disenfranchisement was showcased at PCC’s 2023 Groundswell Conference. Gigi is on the President’s List at PCC and is an All-Oregon Academic Team scholar. She is an editor for the literary magazine The Pointed Circle .

HOW MUCH IS 'MASS'? Randall Camden Stemple My feed is a travesty a real-day modern tragedy and amongst all the cute photos of cats and dogs and all my sports team’s losses exists a catalog of all gun violence, an epidemic that crosses across this nation, rich or poor, black or white, or any color under the sun so that when running an errand you might get gunned down by a person with a problem, against you, against the store, against the world, or something at their very core we don’t discuss it, we believe it a chore, and so when a bug becomes a feature all that’s left to argue is nomenclature; how many bodies need to be stacked for it to be considered ‘mass’? Do we just consider holes in the ground and piles of ashes or do we consider the masses of others? The wounded and the maimed the traumatized and frightened whose lives will never again be the same. How much does one need to limp to claim their lives irrevocably changed by someone with a gun and too much pain? What we need is a scale something one to ten, then take all your pain all your trauma all your shattered dreams crunch the numbers, run them through a machine, a formula, the bar is a seven anything below and you just have to pretend that everything is fine, that it’s normal, that you didn’t just go through something horrible. While seven through ten will be casualties for the purpose of statistics, we will take a holistic approach to categorizing the slaughter from major to minor to barely a bother with so many instances they smother your empathy and innocence till all that’s left is mechanical precision just the cost of doing business. This may seem insensitive or at least in poor taste but considering the waste of life and of futures, we should at least use their deaths to best inform and educate to illuminate the problem and the paths that branch into the gloom. But we don’t and we won’t, we would rather forget it. We scream about what is right and respecting the dead and scold all the vultures and carrion birds preventing any conversations from being heard. I would argue that my system and scale are truly important, truly transformative of the horrid discourse surrounding this plague. I can see the messages and thoughts and prayers you have amassed. Let's see how many remain after a month has passed. Randall Camden Stemple Randall is a PCC student who enjoys spending most of his free time reading, writing, and watching whatever slop YouTube recommends.

ARTIST BIOGRAPHIES ARTWORKS Mehdi Gassi: Using different mediums such as painting, graphic design, and 3D media I strive towards depicting the world we live in and the chaos that fills our time, as I aim to dive deep into the subject matter and create a sense of universality that resonates with all. My practice often involves creating a series of work using different mediums, allowing me to explore and experiment with techniques that are visually compelling and never been done before. I take great pleasure in discovering new ways to layer my paints to create a sense of depth and originality. As an artist, I am deeply passionate about exploring sentimental matters and pardoxes that we come across as humans, and do so using symbolic figurative style. I look forward to continuing to push the boundaries of what is possible with my creativity and bringing new perspectives to the subjects that I am passionate about. Shane Allison was bit by the writing bug at the age of fourteen. He spent a majority of his high school life shying away in the library behind desk cubicles writing bad love poems about boys he had crushes on. He has since gone on to publish several chapbooks of poetry, Black Fag , Ceiling of Mirrors , Cock and Balls , I Want to Fuck a Redneck , Remembered Men , and Live Nude Guys , as well as four full-length poetry collections, I Remember (Future Tense), Slut Machine (Rebel Satori), Sweet Sweat (Hysterical), and I Want to Eat Chinese Food off Your Ass (Dumpster Fire). He has edited twenty-five anthologies of gay erotica and has written two novels, You’re the One I Want and Harm Done (Simon & Schuster). Allison’s collage work has graced the pages of Shampoo , Unlikely Stories , Pnpplzine.com , Palavar Arts Magazine , Southeast Review , and a plethora of others. He is at work on a new novel and is always at work making a collage here and there. Bailey Moore: I live in a small Halloween-loving town with my family, including two cats and a dog. I love reading, writing, and playing games. I’ve worked with a lot of different mediums, but I have enjoyed working with oils the most. I plan to transfer to a university and pursue my degree in fine arts. Xiomara Mueller is a PCC student whose artwork, Orange Is the Loneliest Color , is published in the 2024 issue of The Bellwether Review. J acky Sanchez Lozoya is a PCC student whose artwork, El Alcatraz , is published in the 2024 issue of The Bellwether Review. Laila Sheikh: Hailing from Lake Oswego, Oregon, my paintings reflect my love of cheerful, vivid colors inspired by my world travels. I am inspired by art masters, a global perspective, and my training in Feng Shui and Ikebana to create unique oil and acrylic paintings that intersect the abstract and the modern. I hope to fill your space with happy colors. https://lailaduttastudio.wixsite.com/lailaduttastudio Instagram ~ @lailaduttastudio lailaduttastudio@gmail.com Eddie Vassilenko: I’m a fella who likes to make things. My work centers around my life being queer, body image, and the people around me. I often focus on the human form. When I’m not making art, I’m probably playing Guitar Hero 3. Kelley Wezner is a recent retiree who has returned to school to study art. She is in her first year at PCC. She particularly enjoys drawing and painting the nature she sees on walks. When she’s not in school, she enjoys reading, hiking, and time with friends and family. Dean Wilson: Born in Oregon, our family moved around a lot. I used my first camera, a 126-roll film from the 1960s, very infrequently. Progressing through the Instamatic days of the 1970s, I bought my first SLT in 1976. This eventually led to a DSLR in 2015 and mirrorless from 2019. Photography is a passion for me that allows me to capture a feeling, mood, or a moment in time that tells a story. I capture landscapes with a creative eye of a place that may have existed for thousands of years or in the blink of an eye, which may suddenly disappear tomorrow. Facebook ~ Dean Wilson Photography Instagram ~ @DeanWilsonCanby

THE SOUL JUMPS WITH JOY Slava Konoval The soul jumps with joy, she’s surrounded by British care and twenty years of drunken life in Ukraine. A former alcoholic mother flaunts herself by the colored pictures in a web. Her peasant neighbors are jealous of her, their fields are not plowed, their fields are not sown, as they are all alone. How is it in the blood to live peacefully? How is it to thank God? He had released a mother from an impoverished life. Mother’s house is bequeathed by the descendants of English barons. A smoke has settled in Ukraine, never to see their mothers on Ukrainian railway platforms. Slava Konoval My creative works are dedicated to the central themes of modernity, and the main one is the exposure of the concepts of “good” and “evil” and their transformation into a gray shade. Poetry is a weapon against consciousness, which feeds on cheap informational garbage, cultivating a consumerist attitude and civic indifference for the future of the society in which individuals live. Since I am a lawyer by profession, poetry is my additional tool that allows me to fight where politics mercilessly and maliciously defeats the law. I am an active member of civil society and perform the functions of the Commissioner for Prevention and Counteraction of Corruption on public grounds. I adore the poetic satire. I have never attached much importance to the naming of my poetry, as I believe that poetry should be devoid of advertising content. The heart of poetry is the power of words. That’s the main thing. Ideologically, my works are in the canvas of a poetry group called Voices from Ukraine.

MECHANICAL PENCIL Sean P. Hotchkiss I prefer to write in pencil Not sure why Ink may be too permanent I wrote to you of my love “click” for you, the deepness of it There were times that we irritated each other, or “click” disagreed A short interruption of our story “click” like when the lead is too short and must be pulled from the pencil “click click click click” (too far, push it back a little) But our love was always there, always strong, always true “click click” Love, marriage, children, “click” bills, home, love. Always love Even when, or especially when you got sick. “click” Always love. Our story continued, with “click” care and mutual devotion I check the pencil, and the lead is running low “click” I see no refill, as your end draws near “click click” I would love to write less to preserve the lead but our love must be told, must continue fully until the end “click” To the last we were together, you “click” dying by my side as we slept The story ended, the lead is gone “ “ Perhaps if I had written our story in ink… Sean P. Hotchkiss Sean P. Hotchkiss was born and raised in the Portland Metro area of Oregon. He is a proud father of three, grateful partner of one, and widower. He rediscovered his love of writing after returning to college after three gap-decades. Sean is in his last term towards earning an A.A.S. in Business Marketing at Portland Community College (PCC) with plans to pursue a Master’s degree in clinical mental health. In addition to his “day job” as a digital marketer, he is also a reading and writing tutor at PCC. He believes he does his best work where thought meets inspiration, and seeks out those things and people that stimulate both. You can engage with Sean on Instagram @sphotch_the_writer or on his website at https://www.sphotch.com .

FETAL POSITION Alli Tschirhart This house holds no heat Chill clings to everything: the plywood floors, the furniture—me The small metal heaters do nothing only burning our fingertips as we press against them, the water pop-popping inside The naked mattress stays cool I shiver beneath my flimsy throw, my feet have turned to stone So many children in the house that when it comes to bedding, the oldest gets overlooked. Sleeping is easiest with my knees knocking against my chin, arms hugging them close Morning comes, bones creak and muscles ache It’s better than being cold. Alli Tschirhart Alli Tschirhart is an aspiring writer and poet. From Texas, she enjoys being outdoors and reading, as well as her three cats. Her work has previously been published in The Bellwether Review and Free Verse Revolution . She is continuing her passion for reading and writing at PSU this fall. Instagram ~ @allitschirhart