Four New Poems

by Travis Jeppesen on August 28, 2015


Can turtles be lesbians? It is a question I have often asked myself, until I stopped once. I appeared as a drug addict for my birthday that year, and everyone applauded my whiteness. I just wanna take this opportunity to be something. Oh look, it has already gone away.


Why do you flee the tides that fart? Can’t you be a samaritan for justice and virtue where there is no goodness? The moral sense of shame being so delicious, I live in a crass alleyway. The fate of the world is my biggest collector. And on Sunday night, I will emerge a vaginaless woman in my supreme sobriety to throw out my tourniquet and give the world a sunburn it will never remember. Dawn comes early this year.




I can’t wait to be a mall. I’m acting all autistic all over the place. It’s a being (lack.) As soon as the communist gets the soup out of her pussy, we’ll have a reason to act for. What about these boots? Is clarity really meant to be blindsighted by the thereafter? I can’t decide on much, but at least there’s a wisdom. We all know what the telegram stood for in the US of gay. Now Mister Riceball has a satan flag in her tutu! Get away from those grape peels, aorta, you don’t know which ass farm they came speedgloating out of.




Aimless for all, and none to be sung. A piece of cake for yr anus in the sky, chase down the misanthropy of minions and spit it in the forsakenness of faces, there is too much time to be roasted. I’m gonna be all late to the dinner party and I’m not even caring, what the blubbery fuck is the matter with me, carved a hole in the time once again. Baby’s rhythmic squeals imply a raping. At least it’s not in the midwest.




A poem is a thought disorder, it must be given up upon. We went into the cactus lake where our friends waited, patiently conjugating adverbs while letting their thirst die. Does the skin drink a salad when the river expels its longitude? These questions and others like it can be answered for a thin price. The sediment within his collected poems is what kept him in the wheelchair for so long. Suddenly a lightbulb.

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