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Objet dArt
Magazine of literature,
arts, and culture
Spring 2014
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Staff
Editor-in-Chief
Matt Tomasello
Editors
Lisa Mathews
Justin Rodriguez
Lucero Calleo
Sabrina Restivo
Nick Abraham
Table of Contents
Editors Note
Our small staf at Objet dArt worked dilligently to assemble a
magazine out of some of the best creative writing and artwork the
Rutgers community has to ofer. A big thanks to Lucero, Justin,
Lisa, Sabrina, and Nick for all of the time and efort they put into
making this, and to all the students who let us publish their work
here. Te submissions we received were poignant and thought-
provoking, and its an honor to be able to include them in our
magazine. And thank you for reading Objet. Maybe youll fnd
a poem or a picture in here that you really like and that youll
remember for a long time. Even if you dont, just by picking it up
youve helped us keep the arts alive here on campus.
Matt Tomasello
Everyone should be able to do one card trick, tell two jokes, and
recite three poems, in case they are ever trapped in an elevator.
Lemony Snicket
Layout Editor
Lucero Calleo
Cover Image
Eriko Takatsuki
Jonathan Lee
Victor Wong
Lucero Calleo
Kleptok by Anonymous 4
Waiting for You by Jonathan Lee 5
Dots by Brandon Robert 6
PDA (friend watching) by Maxwell Williams 8
Tree Cups of Tea by Lucero Calleo 9
Untitled by Victor Wong 10
Little by Brandon Robert 11
Lovely Tune by Alex Cruz 13
Fantasy Portrait Color Sketch by Lucero Calleo 13
Color in a Bag by Anonymous 14
Confdence by Brandon Robert 14
Untitled by Eriko Takatsuki 15
Emma Watson by Brandon Robert 16
Aqua Vitae by Rahul D. Ghosal 18
Untitled by Eriko Takatsuki 18
Styrofoam Cups by Anonymous 19
Cherry Blossom Petals by Lucero Calleo 20
A Blue Magpies Song by Rahul D. Ghosal 21
Untitled by Victor Wong 22
Untitled by Eriko Takatsuki 24
Te Dance of Lights by Lucero Calleo 25
Simple Math by Matt Tomasello 26
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Kleptok
Teres an industrial meadow in Kleptok
where men with castles on their backs
pass around a monkeys jaw
and imbibe a lot of beer
the courtesan comes to summon
the last remaining man
so the court can watch his castle melt
into clouds of mustard gas
the seeds burn in the soil
growing clever tongues of fame
that wrap around our ankles
and shout everybodys name
and if I saw that you were choking I would hesitate to ask
if you thought that I was strong enough to wrap your head in bits of
ice and steel
so that the blood in your eye sockets would stop fowing down your
face
but if I lack the muscle mass, just keep bleeding anyway

Anonymous
Waiting for You

Jonathan Lee
6 7
DOTS
Our proximity is like two pinpoints trying to reach the same
trajectory of a passion
Like stardust sprinkles into my sleepless nights without you,
Or the way the wind tugs on my hair pulling each strand
northbound
Saying that youre up there and Ill be there soon,
Or the sun giggling its way down to me with a warm massage to my
heart
Kneading through the doubts,
Or whispers in the meadows that listen to my mind as the wheat
sways trance-like
And I listen for the answers.
Sometimes my stomach is like a harness attached to a bungee cord
Of my intestines
And as I jump,
It wraps around my neck binding the reality of my breath.
Look, I can sit here and write every thought of you down on paper
But postcards are just too small,
and so is paper.
When I describe visceral fantasies of what wed be doing right now,
Itd be so diferent from our small talk sincerities.
Im like a butterfy that continues morphing into myself
because as I grow,
I want to grow stronger with you.
I will futter my golden wings,
But theyre nothing without your breeze guiding me through,
Helping me fy into your life with all of my words.
If we both arent perfect, then why do friends all tell us that we are?
I struggle with the day-to-day,
Te routine of I-wish-you-were-heres
Tat reverberate through my ballpoint pen each time I try to make
sense.
Tere is a boy far away who is sprawling you out onto paper
To solve the scramble of our future
And my poems can only do so much.
I can carve the wind like a sharpened blade on my motorcycle,
Revv the engine, and leave a cloud of dust behind me,
But we are on two diferent maps right now like two dots
reading, YOU ARE HERE
Te gps is struggling to guide us through our separate routes
And each time the wind speaks to me as I ride,
I call on him to carry my message out to you.
Tis poem is not fnished,
Yet then again, neither is our story embeded in it.
I know someday I will be writing about a poem that we both will
share together
In the proximity of the same map
in the same plain.

Brandon Robert
8 9
PDA (friend watching)
Your mouths locked together--
Slurping
slapping...
probing...
(as I sit here
watching)
Keep me locked out--
invisible
while barely feet away

Maxwell Williams
Three Cups of Tea
Lucero Calleo
10 11
Lovely artistic rendering of the father
from Malcom in the Middle
Victor Wong
Little
Yep, I got you right in the balls, remember? right in the sweet spot,
Tat spot that reminded you that your little nugget of a brother
took karate,
And that I knew how to make you sound like a pipsqueak as mom
Walked into the kitchen, surveyed the damage, and said,
You deserved it, and then stepped over you to complete her lunch
telling you about her day,
While you lied on the foor heaving like a steamboat engine without
the steam,
Or a water flter that can only flter air afer the last drooping drop.
Call it an awkward beginning, but let me tell you Greg,
Tat I dont laugh like a girl,
Tat I love eating peanut and butter jelly sandwiches, the ones I
make you ALL the time
Like the one you dropped gently as you avalanced to the ground
Kicking and screaming as Oreo barked woofng down that
sandwich
Filling her tiny belly.
But I do know that when you called me on the phone the other day,
and said, Remember when we used to play tag?
I could feel the red free falling from my nostils and know that even
though I tasted blood, I bled love,
And even though I nosedived into the bed spring during that game
of indoor tag,
I could taste your innocence,
that you didnt mean it as you teared up and mom tried stitching us
back together
Like a quilted mattress you told me to bounce on so high that one
jump brought me back to the present,
And I tasted understanding;
And it was sour at frst like the war heads we challenged each
other to as the lime, lemon, and cherry mixtures multiplied and we
continued double daring,
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Your face scrunched up while I thought, What a terrible idea this
is
And did we stop? Of course not.
And it was salty like the popcorn you sold at all our neighbors
doors for Boy Scouts with dad,
I watched you sell them all within a week.
It was sweet like the Gertrude Hawk chocolates I sold telling you
how I waited for all my girlfriends to sync their periods together
like an iPod playlist
so that on box would vanish.
Growing up, my social security card might as well have read,
Gregs Little Brother.
Te attendance lists of all my teachers said Brandon in bold ink
but the teachers still called me Greg.
Its ok, Im his little brother.
I met God, and I believed in God,
Because God was a clarinet player. He wears glasses with squared
rims, has a roaring laugh that makes mine sound like a whisper,
resides in a small, Jersey town,
and I want to be just like him.
When your little eight year old brother kicked you in the balls,
It wasnt to humiliate you, it was to let you know I was there.
When you called me the other day, everything collided into a
realization
Tat love is all the favors of good and bad, friend and foe,
And though our eight year gap was wide like the hole between my
two front teeth,
When you called me on the phone the other day,
you said,Brandon, I really love you.
Its ok, I love you too, Greg.
Brandon Robert
Lovely Tune
Miles away . . . far away.
A thousand miles away, there is a lovely tune
beneath the moonlight, it sings its beauty
And caught up in a tree, by the lovely tune
enchanted by the melody,
Teres a cute little bird, and it has taken the lovely tune into its beak
but last night, it took fight into the skylines, far away for those to hear
It few and chirp away with great beauty
And the nights, And the skies became silent, and the world became still
the lights went out, and the world got colder
But then one night, all of sudden, the lovely tune returned back to the skies
It came from above, from the little bird that few miles
and miles, the one that spread its wings to sing the lovely tune to my soul
Little bird, sign to me, sing to me endlessly, would you?
I would sing to you, endlessly.
Alex Cruz
Fantasy
Portrait
Color
Sketch
Lucero
Calleo
14 15
Eriko Takatsuki
Color in a Bag
A bag full of colors refecting your face
reveals all the missiles your mother misled
from the back of the scenery, the dirt and the greenery
hiding the battalion of plastic army men
perfectly camoufaged, with toothpick-sized javelins
aimed at the eyes of the second-hand man
swimming in rainbow paint
with eyes the size of the room
that defate with the breaths he takes
and make the colors fade in and out.
Anonymous
CONFIDENCE
Te clouds hovered, stretched like
cotton candy against a twilight canvas.
Te sun yawned nestling to bed.
In an opening of the cotton was a light.
Te star was lonely among the sky,
Waking up and shining for nighttime.
And as the sun continued to rest,
Te little ball awoke stronger and confdent.
Te twinkle in the ocean blue, sparkled, while its neighbor
awakened: glowing too.

Brandon Robert
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EMMA WATSON
I found love when she entered the movie screen.
She stole my heart the frst time she spoke.
From one small clip my heart melted
like an ice cube sitting in sun-warmed iced tea.
Tell me that I were to meet Emma Watson,
And I might think you were transfxed.
I dont think I can handle such a lie,
For my body would shake like a jackhammer
You know, the one you hold for hours in construction.
I would fangirl like a baby that wants the comfort of a hug,
Emma, I just need a hug from you.
When I sit at home with nothing to do,
I forget about writing,
Tough I could write a poem, a short story, and a Novel all about
her.
When I go online, I go to the search bar
Browsing images and interviews of my true love
But there is never enough time in the day
Because like a water lily she foats on water and ripples my
heartbeats.
You are a crackhead, She doesnt know you, Shes a Hollywood
Star,
My friends chronically complain to my face,
And yes she is a star, a star Im wishing on each night.
If I got to meet Emma Watson,
I want her to know that shell never be alone,
Tat I want to spend every moment showing her I care,
Tat I would buy her the entire galaxy and then tell her she is the
queen of my universe,
Tat I am quite alright with being Brandon Watson for the rest of
my life,
Tat I know just as much about Wizardy and as Hermione Granger,
Tat when I go to the movies and she kisses another guy,
I know shes just acting and practicing for me,
Tat in the confnes my private thoughts theres a Stranger
Granger.
Emma, your accent has a rhythm that fuels my racing pulse
Like a metronome clicking to a constant speed,
Your acting is as captivating as the proposal I have
written out and waiting fve years.
Emma, you stunned a little boy who is now a grown man,
And though friends doubt our love,
Tough I wish I can grab my wand
and cast my love in a spell that you already know,
Emma my love, we will meet on our wedding day,
And although our ceremony will be far from traditional,
just for you, I will switch quidditch teams
Because the best man, who is my boyfriend, will just have to deal
with
the fact that the seeker fnally found his snitch.

Brandon Robert
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Eriko Takatsuki
Aqua Vitae
Applauding raindrops
Te murmur of the ocean
Baptismal solace
Rahul D. Ghosal
Styrofoam Cups
In her house in the middle of the ocean
I slither like an earthworm on the pavement, tearing up my fesh
everyone so far away
yellow rivers for her bleeding gums
push on her loose teeth with my tongue
I rinse and spit into a cup
while she shovels guts of her sidewalk
Anonymous
20 21
Cherry Blossom Petals
When people look at the cherry blossom petals blowing in the
wind, they think its such a beautiful scene.
But many fail to realize that before the petals came there, they
were once part of a beautiful fower, snuggled on the branch of a
beautiful tree. Ten the wind snatched them away and tore them
apart, seizing them from the love and warmth of their homes. Tey
became separated, alone, tossed about by the furious wind.
Aferwards, when they reach the earth, they are only trampled
by muddy boots, never to see the light of the sun again once the
dirt closes in on them. Ten they just rot away and are never ever
remembered for the little bit of beauty they brought to the world.
But who knows. Maybe that brief moment of glory when theyre
fying on the wind and futtering through the sunbeams is worth an
entire life of heartbreak and despair.

Lucero Calleo
A Blue Magpies Song
Dedicated to K.C.
Majesty heralded by a name
Fanfare accompanying
Every phonetic breath
Tat composes its poetry;
A syllablean inch
Of ceaseless silk damask
Rolling of the tongue
Te embroidery refnes ones tastes,
As the linguistic threads dissolve
And the violet dye spills
Unto ones buds,
Into ones veins,
Depositing in the lefmost
Ventricle.
A sonorous afertaste
Of that deceptive cadence
Suspended
Drifing
And never settling.
Aporia.
Rahul D. Ghosal
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Victor Wong
24 25
The Dance of Lights
Your love is unmistakable
Our bond, now unbreakable.
I know now who you are,
my beautiful star,
brighter than a thousand suns,
but the only one
for me.
I reached for You, but blindness reigned,
engulfng every scream
drying out my fesh
til it turned to crust and steam,
crumbling, vanishing as the wind blew by
learning only how to die.
But You restore every piece of me
like placing every leaf
back on a withered tree.
Its time at last for me to shine,
morning star, celestial life
joining in the dance of lights.
I am reborn, whole again
knowing now You are my friend
knowing that Ill never end
because you live in me.


Lucero Calleo
(lef) Eriko Takatsuki
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Simple Math
Ollie Pak was good at math. He couldnt dance or cook
or hold a conversation, but he knew Conic sections like a second
language. He understood complicated mulit-variable integrals,
knew how to calculate the rotation of curves around all three axes,
and could write out an entire advanced Taylor series in under a
minute.
Te students in the General Pre-Calculus class he taught
didnt try very hard. Tey were seniors who were more concerned
with organizing parties and coming up with a senior prank. Tey
didnt know or care what a Taylor series was. Tat subject would
never be reached in a Pre-Calc course, and Ollie couldnt have
explained it to them anyway.
When Ollie was in grade school there had been a daily ritual
where the teacher would select a boy to stand in front of the class to
give the morning salutation and lead everyone in singing Polands
national anthem. Te day Ollie was chosen he rose from his seat
and walked rigidly like a wind-up toy to the front of the room. He
stood there ghostly white before his audience, stammering and
unable to speak. Four agonizing minutes went by until the teacher
quietly asked him to sit down.
Okay, so uhh Ollie shufed back and forth in front of
the whiteboard. He wrung his sweaty palms together. So, when
we take the derivative of the velocity, the, uh, the przypieno, I
mean, the uhprzy Te words choked him like thick tar in his
throat. He couldnt remember the English word. Teprzyuhh-

Are you high? called a student loudly from the back, and
the rest of the class screeched with laughter. Ollies face blanched.
Te uhhuhhthe acceleration! he fnally got out, but no one
heard him over the ringing of the fnal bell.
Ollie gripped his desk tightly as students brushed past,
pushing each other savagely. He was a little boy, humiliated again in
front of the class. He stared at the ground and wished he was one of
the foor tiles.
He sensed movement in front of him and looked up to
see four of his students knock his fle rack and all his folders of
the desk. Ollie immediately dropped to the foor to pick them up,
trying to grab them out from under the culprits feet. When he got
them all he got up and started to yell at the students, but the yell
was more of a squeak, and it was mostly in Polish, and the four
boys were already out the door and running down the hall before
he could translate himself to English. He slammed the folders down
on his desk with a frustrated grunt.
Ollie took a large gulp from his cup of cofee and sat down.
He rearranged the folders on his desk. He had a long night of
grading ahead of him. He knew he could do his work with the
rest of the teachers in the lounge, but decided that hed rather be
isolated alone than where other people could see him. He drank
more of his cofee.
He looked at the frst students paper. It belonged to Maria
Komito. Maria was seven months pregnant and being raised by a
single mother with a minimum-wage job. Tere was no way she
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could economically support the child, but she had lashed out at
every counselor and teacher that had reached out to her, and now
they hated her as much as she hated them. Ollie fnished the rest of
his cofee.
He wondered what Marias baby would look like when
it came out of her. She was always chewing gum in class so he
pictured it emerging from the womb with a giant wad of Spearmint
in its mouth, just like its mother. Today he had watched her chew
three pieces in his class, sticking each one underneath her desk
when she fnished them. He pictured Maria holding her screaming,
disgusting infant, plucking the chewed gum out of her own mouth
and shoving it into her childs.
Ollie stared down at the bottom of his empty cofee mug. He
realized hed been looking at it for a long time. He shook his head
as if from a trance and moved on to the next paper, which belonged
to John Dumont. John Dumont owned a switchblade. Ollie had
overheard him telling other students about it almost every day, and
one time he had even seen it. It had been tucked in the pocket of his
sweatshirt, and Ollie had caught a glimpse of it as the student had
passed his desk one day. He suspected that John had been trying to
show him it was there.
John was there, in the room. Ollie blinked. John moved
closer. Ollie stood up abruptly from his desk and John was gone.
He took a deep breath, suddenly feeling cold. He began to rub
his hands together vigorously, but he kept getting colder. He had
a fever of some kind. He breathed in again and the whole world
seemed to breathe with him. Every surface of the room seemed to
undulate toward him in one uniform motion, as if in one breath.
Suddenly he was choking. He couldnt exhale, as if the air was
trapped inside of him. He pounded on his chest until fnally the
air dislodged itself. His breathing returned to normal but the
classroom continued to undulate, pulsing back and forth like the
sea. A million diferent curves rushed toward him in waves, there a
cosine wave, followed by a quadratic, followed by ones he had never
seen or calculated before, mathematical monoliths he had never
come close to dreaming of. He was fascinated.
He sat down at his desk, straightened his papers, and looked
up to see his entire Gen Pre-Calc class sitting in their seats in front
of him, pulsing gently. Joyce texted passively, John fondled his knife
openly, Maria rubbed the top of her belly. Her stomach seemed
to be swelling, like a balloon being infated. What Ollie was
at a loss for words again. His class was here, the day hadnt ended
yet. He rose again. Te students were changing. Te pigments
that made up their skin and clothes were simplifying, factoring
themselves down. Tey were cartoons now. Marias stomach had
grown to twice its size. She rested her head on it, using her own
bloated body as a pillow. Cartoon John had wild hair like a current
had been run through him. Denver Williams face had become
elongated, making him look like a something between a horse and a
baboon. All around the room the students were changing. Some of
them became cross-hatched comic book characters, others turned
into shapeless lumps. Vanessa Buyers had merged with the steel
radiator her seat was next to. Tere was a sharp metallic taste in
Ollies mouth.
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Without warning the students began to scream. Tey
unhinged their jaws and tore apart the skin on their cheeks as they
all flled the room with noise so loud it could be seen and felt. Ollie
made to scream as well but no sound came out. Te ghouls cries
were so forceful that it pushed him backwards, as if he were being
bufeted by a howling wind. Ollie closed his eyes but the shrieks
shook his skull, making him see throbbing light on the backs of
his eyelids. Suddenly a tremendous ripping pierced the screeching
typhoon. Ollie opened his eyes and saw that Marias stomach had
burst. She looked down at the torn remains of her womb and began
to cackle like a hyena. From the bloody, pulpy mess rose an infant-
like demon. It had claws that were six inches long and eyeballs that
dangled from their sockets. Its head was bulbous and deformed
on top of its small torso. It pulled itself from its wrecked mother
and started dragging itself toward Ollie, hissing and gurgling.
With horror Ollie saw that its skin was made of tiny numbers, as
if written on paper but cut out and woven together. He tried to
back away from it but felt his back hit the whiteboard. He turned
around and discovered that it was rippling like water. He screamed
and turned back to see that the baby had gotten closer. Tere was
nowhere else to go. He shrieked and covered his eyes as the demon
lunged at him.
Te fre alarm was screaming; a routine drill had been
scheduled for this time. One of the assistant principals was sent in
to check each room to make sure everyone had gotten out of the
building. When he found Ollie Pak his body was splayed out on the
ground behind his desk. Te papers he had been grading lay in a
messy pile next to his empty cofee mug.
Te nurse came into the hospital room at 8 AM to bring
Ollie his breakfast. She set the tray down on the table next to the
bed and looked at him nervously. He lay in a reclined position,
staring steadily at the ceiling. He didnt move or look at her.
Ollies doctor entered the room. He peered over his glasses
at the man in the hospital bed. Anything? he asked.
No, the nurse said. She shook Ollies arm gently. I dont
think hes moved all night.
Te doctor was not an expert on drugs. He knew the three
tabs of LSD that Ollie had taken would be considered a lot, but he
doubted the students who had slipped it into his cofee had meant
to mentally damage him. Tey had probably meant it as a prank. He
also knew that LSD didnt infict brain damage, not the kind Ollie
was apparently exhibiting. He studied the lifeless look on his face.
What do you think the problem is? the nurse asked.
I dont know, the doctor admitted. On the outside hes
fne. Hes justcatatonic. He glanced at Ollies blank expression
again. If he doesnt eat anything by tonight then put in a tube.
Okay. Te doctor lef the room. Te nurse adjusted the
bed sheets, then took a step back. Ollie continued to stare at the
ceiling. Please let me know if you need anything, she said, her
voice faltering a little. Tere was no response. She lef the room and
quietly closed the door.
Matt Tomasello
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