Joy Patterson & Jacob Rowan

Joy Patterson is a Senior Creative Writing student at Belhaven University. She has worked as staff on and had her work published in the fine arts journal The Brogue. In spring of 2013, she received the Elizabeth Spencer Award for Excellence in Writing and presented her first poetry collection entitled "Stir" in a reading at Belhaven University. Joy is from Katy, Texas, where she works as a freelance editor and indexer while learning Spanish and preparing to marry the love of her life.        &nbsp             &nbsp        &nbsp        &nbsp        &nbsp        &nbsp        &nbsp     &nbsp          &nbsp Jacob Rowan graduated from Belhaven University with a B.A. in Visual Art in 2012. While at Belhaven his work was accepted into several juried shows, including the Mississippi Collegiate and the student shows at Bitsy Irby Gallery. Several of his pieces were also published in The Brogue, Belhaven University’s fine arts journal. After graduating he had a joint show with Bryan Fulton at Lisette’s Gallery. In 2013 he moved to Tokyo, Japan for six months to work as an artist-in-residence with Community Arts Tokyo. Currently working in Jackson, Mississippi he is looking forward to marrying his best friend in June 2014. You can find more examples of his exploration in literary illumination at


See the lights from above and try
        to pick out familiar places
in glowing cul-de-sacs,

highways, restaurants, homes.
        Might as well stare at a fire,
find patterns in soft glowing coals—

the lights have already blurred
        into jewels and sequined memory,
a party dress left to wrinkle on the floor.

Attempt to recall every detail
        as wings and skin shudder
in cold night air, uplifted.

Find comfort in the rising warmth
        of this familiar, structured quilt—
cling to phantom sensation in separation.

Lose sight of origin in continuous mazes,
        threaded in straight lines and curves,
colored pin-pricks in starless silk display.

After warmth of velvet, pavement, and ink,
        departure feels cold for a moment—
whispers the starched unrest of empty bedsheets.

Let your eyes cloud until
        the faded vision becomes a dream,
until you awake to city lights once more.