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SPIV DRIVER #11



by Travis Jeppesen & Matthew Wascovich

COPYRIGHT © 2005, 3 A.M. MAGAZINE. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

PALE SHADOWS
(Jeppesen)

The mind is a pornographic recluse. Flits of things I used to see/know/be, pick a word to translate that mutilated kaleidescope, the raw spectrum manifests translucence through its own quietude. When the spirit lifts yr buttcheeks off the counter, the aliveness starts up again. But then the mutilated trauma of being, something no thoroughfare can retreat off the counter - the way night's thoughts except blind to the shadows that speak to us lovingly - a spleen's raw indulgence. Matter not no matter how hard you try - rough guise for midnite wailing, dark shadow of the spoon not withered by her pallid embrace. Fame defiled by fear of loathing, what now the spirit-captivation-maker, never the force to fulfill the dry plenitude the others can't bear to convey it. Or perhaps just needles of pity and rain, suicide chauvinist spits out airwaves, elastic elucidation ain't thin enough for the raw machine. I didn't mean to forget about yr cough syrup. But maybe her yesterday shadow works like a delayed presence in the house of meaning. Maroon domicile discolored by the foreign fancies, a feast floats out the wrong hook-end. But never too late to interplay the wrong necktie, recklessly spinning out torn folder. Or the objective array of colored lights, light colors and faded allegories. Spectacle time upon our throes, knight's castle hermaphrodite longing in thistles of impregnated peaches, shaved before eaten in the hope of relentless melancholy to shape the loss of perversion in these waters.


ALL DAY BOMBS
(Wascovich)

there are messages looking from the tombs
there are messages looking right into a oneness of light
there's a note up in your eyes
there's a reason we are low
there's a place of knowledge never
this is not very long anymore
there's a bomb in this breath
let's let it go we'll meet again
we'll meet again







ABOUT THE AUTHORS


Travis Jeppesen is the author of a novel, Victims (Akashic, 2003). He edits the Prague Literary Review.
Matthew Wascovich plays music with Scarcity of Tanks and Jackie-O Motherfucker. He edits Thee Flat Bike poetry journal.











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