EpigraphIssue One / January 2013

epigraphmagazine.com

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E c u a d o r

i s

f o r

L o v e r s

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Epigraph is:

Nicholas Bon — poetry editor / layoutwww.nicholasbon.com

Andrew Kodama — photo editor / coverwww.andrewkodama.com

Epigraph Issue One ©2013All Rights Reserved

Copyrights for the individual poems and photographscontained in this issue remain the property of their creators.

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Max Lyons Untitled-------------------------------------------------------------------6

Luke Champouillon The Snow Never Comes--------------------------------------------7Bukowski--------------------------------------------------------------7I Tried------------------------------------------------------------------8Inspiration Never Came--------------------------------------------9

Andrew Kodama Untitled---------------------------------------------------------------10Untitled---------------------------------------------------------------11Untitled---------------------------------------------------------------12

Joshua LyonBlack------------------------------------------------------------------13

Langston Powell Untitled--------------------------------------------------------------14My Mattress, Mud Caked ----------------------------------------14VHS-------------------------------------------------------------------15

Carsten SchertzerPalmolive Meets the Ocean--------------------------------------16

John StarkLost Stories---------------------------------------------------------17New Hampshire ---------------------------------------------------18Cold and Warm----------------------------------------------------19

Danny PasminskiHead in the Clouds------------------------------------------------20

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Vaibhav Sutrave A Tragedy-----------------------------------------------------------21Movie Night---------------------------------------------------------22Death Poems--------------------------------------------------------24Me N Ed and an Edifying Six Pack------------------------------25

Harrison AstburyZoo Kids-------------------------------------------------------------26Ocean-----------------------------------------------------------------27On the road in New South Wales--------------------------------28

Coleman BishopHighway to Los Angeles-------------------------------------------29Hard to Read--------------------------------------------------------30 It's Official-----------------------------------------------------------31

Cal ReeseYesterday was Not my Birthday--------------------------------32Stoplight-------------------------------------------------------------33

Garrett KlepitschUntitled--------------------------------------------------------------34Untitled--------------------------------------------------------------35

Nicholas Bon I'm Going to Inscribe----------------------------------------------36Cheap Air Jordans--------------------------------------------------36I Stand to See a Car Rust------------------------------------------37I Want to Climb a Mountain--------------------------------------38

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Max Lyons / Untitled

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THE SNOW NEVER COMESby Luke Champouillon

The snow never comesat the right moment,but always, instead, just after schoolon Friday beforethe weekend.

BUKOWSKIby Luke Champouillon

Bukowski, you drunk bastard

I never wanted to imitate you.Fuck meif the crowd's geniusdefined the outer world;that's not my faultor yours, either.

We just skipped classat the same pointin curriculum,forsookthe vocabulary lesson.

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I TRIEDby Luke Champouillon

I tried to put my confusion in words.

Even when it worked,the confusion seemed to slip outlike clay in my spindly fingers.

Clumps of meaning stuck,but when I put it all back togetherI got the same formless mess.

I tried poems, sentences, phrases,words, letters, phonetic symbols...

I tried screaming louder than the cacaphonythat my mind had orchestrated,and that only strengthened the distress.

I had to shut myself up.She had to shut me up.So I shut myself away at last.

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INSPIRATION NEVER CAMEby Luke Champouillon

inspiration never cameexpiration made my name

alwayswhen something elsedemanded attentionwith a sigh of regretresignation conqueredand I wrote

a few shitty linesa paragraph of formless truthor even a coherent poem

but neverthe essaythe paperthe golden planthat proved a fool's

so long as my eyesfell downwardone-sided faceone-dimensional facade

fucking flounderunder an oceanof demand

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Andrew Kodama / Untitled

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Andrew Kodama / Untitled

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Andrew Kodama / Untitled

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BLACKby Joshua Lyon

We didn't know it would be like thisA torrentBillowing black cloudscome to consume our shabby craft,roaring with the might of Death himselfEyes bloodshot,on the brink of exhaustion,only wanting an endAny endNo escape No backing downAdrenaline takes hold and I feel alivefor the first time in my lifeIt was an awakeningand I aroseI rose upand everything was alright

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UNTITLEDby Langston Powell

So consumed bythese January jones. CheersTo those with a tiny shred of hope,Cause I'm lost halfway through thisDeep winter trance. Trying toErase the woes, so bitterly felt From head to toe.

MY MATTRESS, MUD CAKEDby Langston Powell

My mattress, mud caked.Nights rich with naval gazingAs falls' pass in space.

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VHSby Langston Powell

Vain to look, I tryAnd fail to nameThis feeling.

Nostalgia yearning,Playback the momentsOn the VHS of my mind.

Bring me backChildlike innocence,reality hurts Sometimes.

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Carsten Schertzer / Palmolive Meets the Ocean

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LOST STORIESby John Stark

of fresh new faces meeting the topof the world with the same old foodand steps of trepidation, notrealizing the gentleness of wolves.And with the lucidity of oilgliding through water, the coldarctic greeting of lights streakednorth. Silent and unassumingthey glowed cosmic colors, uncontrolledby the crisp wind. And always north.

The faces fell to the frosted groundexhausted, famished, exhilarated.Nothing could hide from the lights andthe faces felt the enormity of the whiteplains engulfing them. They lay prostrate and saw.They walked lonely but not alone throughthe tundra waste and theyleft rolling hills of history.But ahead of themlay lands of ancient legend.

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NEW HAMPSHIREby John Stark

standing on the ridgelinethe old-growth wood

spreads uncontained, blanketingthe mountain side in waving hairs

not yielding to the chainsaw's growlforcing towns to nestle in valley plains,

or terraced mansions to adapt to the steepcliffs and hiding mountain lions and

ancient mysteries. Endless moundshide unmapped streams and unmarked

rocks. Nature's optical illusion,hiding the path to survival.

Roads, running in cloud on cloud lightening,fight winds pushing them towards the edge.

A no name town uses aforest meadow to hide from the threatening

mountains, nowhere near you andnowhere near me.

All the teens loiter outsidethe corner gas station, surrounded

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by a village one block thick,forests and farms, than

mountains, mountains, mountains.The band's always playing

at the packed bar and thewhiskey's always running out.

COLD AND WARMby John Stark

As a little boyI opened the windowin the heated carin the dead of winteras we sped down thehighway to grandma'shouse.

And as the wind whippedinto this womb onwheels, I imaginedlittle men fighting forhot and for cold, alllined up at the glassplane, battlingfor temperature.

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Danny Pasminski - Head in the Clouds

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A TRAGEDYby Vaibhav Sutrave

your shirt gets caught oncoffee pot &you turn around for50,000 dead intv breaks down

you reach for kissshe gives you What

waste your winetry to drowngut-firebut end up fueling it instead

stare at wallblankpage tugging&quietlyUNPROVOKED CROTCH ACTIVITYnow life has laid this on ya:a tragedy

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MOVIE NIGHTby Vaibhav Sutrave

i called a girl overSaturday nightto watch a movie.7:30 was her idea.

at 7:10 i put ona Blind Willie Johnson recordopened the front doorand lied down on the floorin front of the speakerswith my head in a sweatshirt& hands between my legs.

i heard the door knockand frozei heard the door openand her step inand closed my eyesshe stood over me& kneeled down& shook my shoulder& i pretended sleep.

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i would turn overslowly, look her in the eyeas if i was not surprised.she'd understand& wordlessly we'd sit& be bummed togetherto Blind Willie Johnson,who she couldn'tgive a shitabout.

instead i didn't moveand a minute laterheard her quietly get upwalk outand close the door.

a few minutes after thatthe record ended.

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DEATH POEMSby Vaibhav Sutrave

are for thedead

life poemsare for thedead

love poemsare for thedead

sex poemsare for thedead

car poemsare for thedead

car BOMBSare fortheliving.

(shit poems too)

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ME N’ ED AND AN EDIFYING SIX PACKby Vaibhav Sutrave

endless countdownnought to none0 nopewhere to be found...sucky jokesfailures quantizedall systems blow

potato chip beam lackeyleans on the beltof a fireproof windmillkickstarting the thingwhich blows onwind from which flicksthe countup switchin the next room

so party's overhundreds of failedSpecimen-Turned-Scientistsstream in through the doorsin a busted spaceship to the North Polewhere every minuteis a minute to wasteand every secondis now further from liftoff.

breathethe new space jam sessionmotto:"Shut up and speak exhaust."

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ZOO KIDSby Harrison Astbury

Faces distorted by the wrought ironFence, black tips imposing.Stifling November warehouse humidity,Heat waves rippling low, further distorting

The children are not accustomed to anything else.They are isolated from what occurs beyond,The fence.Shoved in the far corner and given crayons,They push their Matchbox MaseratisAround the scratchy carpet of the enclosure.Scabby knees with rashes; an unattainable dream

Odd, fleeting movementsBeyond the fence barrierA blur of legs, arms,Grunts and ‘Ahhs’ of sheer relief

A new zoo kid cries,It is totally alien to him.Too young to comprehendJust yet

Although ambiguous, the day is inevitableWhen zoo kids graduateTo the people on the other sideThey escape the precinctAnd will eventually riseThe next generation of zoo kidsTo place in the wretched confine

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OCEANby Harrison Astbury

The fervent currentIs all too happyRipping right throughThe core of man’s existence

It does not careThat I am drowningIn the sea ofBottomless depressing blueI want to shout,Stop! Stop!But my mouthCan no longer moveFilled with sandThe sea cannot mourn

She is a schizoidShe sends herTide out, and,Demands it backRepeatedlyAlways renegingOn her generosity

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Harrison Astbury / On the road in New South Wales

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Coleman Bishop / Highway to Los Angeles

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HARD TO READ WHAT YOU ARE NOT INTERESTED INby Coleman Bishop

Hard to read what you are not interested inSeems like an infinity of chaptersAnd even less pagesBut the Story goes onOnce upon a timeThe EndNothing in the middle of the illiterate literatureWords are mindless, hyperbolousI don't care, give me a comicAt least the pages have picturesSubstituting the empty wordsOnce upon a timePicture after pictureThe End

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IT’S OFFICIALby Coleman Bishop

It's OfficialLife turnsAroundAnd aroundScreams louderIn your faceThen getsSofterSuddenlyScreamsAgainLoudestI have ever heardSlaps you in the faceThe bruise will fadeThe action staysIn the brain's memoryHistoryLife still turnsAroundAnd aroundBut historyDoes not repeat itselfJust stuckIn the archives of timeIt's officialLife turnsAroundAnd aroundAnd aroundAgain

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YESTERDAY WAS NOT MY BIRTHDAYby Cal Reese

Cognitive function, Emotionaldistress or its cousin,paranoia.Let the uncertainty wash through

You, leaving an empty shellto fill with determination, zeal for

Dreams to discover.Yesterday was not my birthday, but

Icame

alive in a flash of light,It changed from Green to Red

So quickly that I,In my haste,

Forgot my destination and allowed the“electromagnetic waves”

To distract me.Cognitive function, Emotionaldistress or its cousin,

paranoia.Behave yourself:

We all die-Someday.

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STOPLIGHTby Cal Reese

The red oneFailedTo do its job--At least, from my viewpoint,near the shining sewer grate,spewing over with dirty rain water,did it seem so-The green oneAdjacentMade no protest--And I assume,with all honesty,that the crumpledmess of multi-colored metalsat objectivelyin its smoky, rain-coveredWreckage-The two mayTogetherSave a life.

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Garrett Klepitsch / Untitled

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Garrett Klepitsch / Untitled

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I’M GOING TO INSCRIBE MY FEELINGSby Nicholas Bon

I'm going to inscribe my feelings once and for all onto copper plates and send them into space. I am goingto shoot my good intentions into orbit so we can view them like they are comets— view them from the Grand Canyon, the tops of skyscrapers,or the parking lot of an Arby'sat three in the morning.

CHEAP AIR JORDANSby Nicholas Bon

nine hundred ninety of the languages of love cheap air jordans the journey back and forth a slim woman dancing louis vuitton outlet i saw the corner of her windblown pink scarf across the rain and fog ralph lauren outlet we silently cry hollister take a dip in my dream in consideration of marriage cleanly remove a sticky price tag try not to be timid then at last we are inside the endless maybewe should just know each other and relax north face jackets you snuggle in beside me eddie bower i would still abandon you hilfiger we're home furnishings simple prada and elegant gucci

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I STAND TO SEE A CAR RUST:WORDS FOUND IN A LAB WORKBOOK

by Nicholas Bon

we were moved magicallyas space is absorbed

high regions can be seen obscuring the visible

the first moving curve is light

the beginningrepresents color

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I WANT TO CLIMB A MOUNTAINby Nicholas Bon

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w a n t

t o c l i m b

a m o u n t a i n

w i t h y o u

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w e

c a n b e

h o u r s

o r d a y s

o r t r e e s

o r s o u n d

w a v e s

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w e

c a n b e

p a r t o f

a n c i e n t

r i t u a l s

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w e

c a n

s e e

w h a t

t h e a i r

i s a l l a b o u t

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Epigraph MagazineIssue One January 2013© 2013epigraphmagazine.com

Ecuador is for Lovers

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