ÚÄ Ü Ü Ü Ü Ä¿ Ûßß ÛßÛ ß Û Û Ûßß ÜÜÛ ß ÛÛÜ Û Ü ßßÛ ÛÜÛ Û Û Û Ûß Û Û Û Û Þ ÛÜß ÛÛÛ Û ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ Û Þ ÛßÛ ÀÄ ÄÙ Ä electronic literary 'zine Ä *ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ* ù ÄÄ´ volume six ÃÄÄ ù *ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ* stop plagiarism - let out your soul Copyright 10/95 ú úùcompiled & edited by Twilightùú ú ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ In memory of Gordon Lepley IV (1972-1995) ...the creative soul...may it ever fly free... þ Table of Contents þ ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù 1. Antiphon - Steve Regis 2. Before You Were Born - Toad the Wet Sprocket 3. Bitter And Shaken - Julie Marquardt 4. Bleed On Me - Mike Dayoub 5. Dying In Your Absence - Twilight 6. First Time - Calvin Sayles 7. Fistfuls - Gena Schwam 8. Frantic Zone - Nicole Couch 9. Hiding Out On Halloween: Videos To Ease The Guilt - Drew Feinberg 10. I Am Trash Too - Carolyn Hitt 11. I'd Watch You Above In Crinoline - Scott Cudmore 12. In The Blue Light - Jane Siberry 13. Inside - Twilight 14. Inspiration - Mark Hallman 15. Last Waves - Gena Schwam 16. Loved Ya To Pieces - Michelle Meldrum and Nicole Couch 17. Lovegone - Marco Morales 18. Motherlove - Marco Morales 19. My Maple Tree Holds Green... - Therese Leigh Stamm 20. My Misery - Phantom Blue 21. Naked My Maple No Longer Shelters Me... - Therese Leigh Stamm 22. Pale Blue Eyes - Velvet Underground, modified by Courtney Love 23. Scream - Gena Schwam 24. Shivers - Dana Hurd 25. Summoning - Twilight 26. Temptress - April M. Ardito 27. The Betrayal - Marco Morales 28. The Bird - Zowie Mills 29. The Burning - Janet Kuypers 30. The Cheval Glass And The Fountain - Jenniffer L. Lesh 31. The Insane People That Are Notably Sane - Kylie Johnson 32. Thinking Of The Dead Child - Maree Jaeger 33. Through The Faces - Marisa VanDyke 34. Untitled - Angie Cooper 35. Untitled - Leanne Kruse 36. Untitled - Libby McGroom 37. Vows - Mike Randall 38. Wasted Moments - Angela Dawn Soutar 39. You're Free - Michelle Meldrum and Nicole Couch þ Including Quotes From: Robb Buchanan, Linda Carroll, Rosemary Carroll, Kurt Cobain, Amanda de Cadenet, Dinosaur Jr., Courtney Love, Thurston Moore, Friedric Nietzsche, Phantom Blue, Lisa Robinson, Kevin Sessums, and Twilight ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ Antiphon þ Steve Regis ùúùúùúùúùúùúù In such a night as this /bred from the wrong genes in such a night /seeded within the wrong delta /breeched via the wrong birth will countless letters be inscribed to those /born into the wrong family who /walked down the street the wrong time /stopped at the wrong moment by some outrageous fortune /boarded on the wrong plane /swirled through the wrong fog will have found their lives /caught upon the wrong war /joined to the wrong race their only lives /furrowed in the wrong colour to have been /touched by the wrong gods terminated. Before You Were Born þ Toad the Wet Sprocket ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù How can it happen that every time You ask us this question the answer seems like a lie You know what we're saying and you know what it means But it never gets through to where you need Before you were born someone kicked in the door There's no place for you here, stay back where you belong Before you were born someone kicked in the door You are not wanted here, stay back where you belong God damn the people who left you in pain God damn the father without face, without name God damn the lovers who never showed up And God damn the wounds that show how deep a word can cut Before you were born someone kicked in the door There's no place for you here, stay back where you belong Before you were born someone kicked in the door You are not wanted here, stay back where you belong And how can it happen now that you know the cause That nothing is changing and everything's wrong But pain is the healing and the tears sting like alcohol Just keep on there breathing We'll help you down the long, long road back home "Once upon a time, you were the first of your generation. Ignore everything else that went on before you." Ä Courtney Love Bitter And Shaken þ Julie Marquardt ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù Remember - the instant you swore you'd never forget... the moment when you first met. when in his eyes - you saw no lies - (only ties) little did you realize... you had been taken. sadly mistaken. and when you discovered that second lover - you parted ways. lonely strays. forever. and now it seems - he is in your dreams... always. when you're awaken bitter - and - shaken the sheets twisted beneath you HE IS THERE - HE IS THERE... inside you. beside you. like glue. with each night that passes ever so slow, you grow to know - you WILL never forget - the instant you REGRET... the moment when you first met. "Convictions are more dangerous enemies of truth than lies." Ä Friedrich Nietzsche Bleed On Me þ Mike Dayoub ùúùúùúùúùúùúù paint my thighs, stripe my ribs coat us brown with sticky flies surge this moon river, urgent child of tides this scarlet need to bleed "Hole. The name connotes a hunger - for sickness, for oblivion, for indecent fantasies, for the sheer catharsis of it all. At its very core is where language and logic break down. Where anger floods in and harmony dies. Hole is where the extremes of abjection, obsession, trauma, atrocity - and, most importantly, humanity - collide." Ä Hole's 1991 biography Dying In Your Absence þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù the rigid cold of the metal chair shoots up my spine the cloud of grey loneliness suffocates, blankets, chokes me a hole pierces right through my now empty heart for inside, you have died you have left me. i mourn you, i mourn my loss but yet, you breathe still you just have forgotten me. too busy, wrapped up in your own life while i, constricted by mine still made the time for you, my love, my one source of pure happiness and consolation. who would have ever thought that my comfort would become my despair... i fear that you will lose me, i do not trust my aching heart for as it found yours in its time of need it may find another... another in this pool of neglect in this riptide of gripping sadness that plagues me in your absence that is so prolonged... will you not come to me will you not let me know how much i am loved... in not only meaningless words that soothe only temporarily as the real pain endures...inside. if one cannot make time... then what is the point in loving at all? come to me, live inside of me show me that you care for i surely will die as well enduring this death of you. First Time þ Calvin Sayles ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù gentle lights lift us featherlight, aloft, we bathe. smiling, spinning, circling, humming, black-dizzy, anxious fainting surrendering to the darkness. crossing over no touching, yet bonded... a desperate and pleasing ache. dance with me, high in the cool night air while points of light encircle us. explosions, phosphorous green, eruptions, burning cinders of red ice blue flame, so pure, only the mind can see. white shimmering radiance. engulf me now...and I will engulf you swallow me, and I will you drown in me...drown me whispering, whispering drown in me "Simone de Baauvoir in _The Second Sex_ wrote about this thing called sexual valuation, meaning you are who you fuck. You cannot get back a man that way, but a man can get back at a woman by sexually devaluating her." Ä Courtney Love Fistfuls þ Gena Schwam ùúùúùúùúùúùúù Throwing fistfuls of dried leaves at your window they can't break the glass but i like to watch the orange reds and yellow greens dance around in the air a party outside your window the glass makes a whistling sound i'm clenching fistfuls of chestnuts just found 'em today on the sidewalk irregular brown blotches so similar to your eyes hard and cold pinching my skin i throw them at your glass breaking shattering the window how brittle for the musky air of October now i've got fistfuls of blood from where my nails pressed too hard into the soft flesh of my palms i can't throw it at you like the leaves and the nuts but i can smear my red heat on your shattered window pain a signature a last reminder tiny red half-moon shapes but you're not home again " 'Meow', she moans, mimicking a cat. 'Meow'. 'That's what the kitty says. And what does a doggy say?' Love asks. 'Woof, woof, woof!' Frances Bean barks. 'And what does a ducky say?' 'Quack, quack, quack!' 'And what does Frances Bean say?' I ask. The child lifts her head from her mother's pillowed chest, then raises her hands in the air like claws. Suddenly she begins to growl in a voice as terrifyingly grizzled as any angry, grunge-encrusted rocker's. 'Arrrgggrr!' she lets loose. Love pretends to be scared and hides her face in her hands. Frances Bean laughs at her mother's fright and growls again. 'Arrrgggrrr!' Love hides her face. 'Arrrgggrrr!' Surprising Frances Bean, Love ferociously begins to growl right back. 'Arrrgggrrr!' she goes, mimicking her daughter's inherent Kurt-like cry. 'Arrrgggrrr!' Frances Bean stops her laughter. 'Don't scream. Don't scream, Mommy.' Love stops her cry. The child places her tiny hands on her mother's cheeks. 'We be gentle.'" Ä Kevin Sessums Frantic Zone þ Nicole Couch ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú Skylight's dim Sonic's freight Uncontrollable misfit Contractable fate The seduction began Realized too late Easy to see There's no escape A regression of time An intrinsic state Been sabotaged With too many weights A solid approach To the tailored plans To hold on to The ultimate game In the frantic zone Taking hostage by insanity In the frantic zone Intangible security Look around It's not so hard to believe Hear the sounds The answer is so hard to see The showage of Starts with sanitude The masterminds All break rules The seduction began Realized too late It's easy to see There's no escape In the frantic zone Taking hostage by insanity In the frantic zone Intangible security "My feeling is that, while we should have the deepest respect for reality, we should not let it control our lives." Hiding Out On Halloween: Videos To Ease The Guilt þ Drew Feinberg ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú Halloween is almost upon us, coming quicker than Hugh Grant in a BMW. As Meg Tilly so brilliantly asked in the cinematic disaster known as Body Snatchers, "Where ya gonna go? Where ya gonna run? Where ya gonna hide?" Eloquently, she voices the dilemma of millions of Americans every October 31. I've done them all, with less than optimum results. Let's run through the options, shall we? Okay, first there's trick-or-treating. Being a greedy bastard and visiting every house within a 20 mile radius, hitting them up for the goods, is socially acceptable as child, but, three years ago, when I was dressed as Zsa Zsa Gabor and asked all of my neighbors to "Give me some candy, DAHLING, or I'll give you a slap," the results were less than desirable. From what I can remember I got assorted candy bars, candy corns, rocks, kitchenware, lollipops, and a jack o'lantern, still lit - THROWN at me, with great velocity. I can't even spell the names people called me, and I was told to do things to myself that aren't even physically possible, lord knows I've tried. One grandmotherly looking woman was actually kind to me, and gave me some popcorn. My faith in mankind had been restored, that is, until I heard the muffled call to her husband "Come see this poor slow boy. It's lovely to see the mentally challenged out and about." At the tender age of 23, I retired from trick- or-treating forever. The next year I opted to stay home, watch some scary movies, and give wondrous candy to the the legit trick-or-treaters. The candy aisle at the supermarket was pure pandemonium. I might as well have been looking for the last green Power Ranger on Christmas Eve. I didn't want to be one of those houses that gave out nickels, fruit, hard bubble gum, cream soda Dum-Dums that stuck to the paper, black licorice, those awful dark chocolate Hershey's Miniatures, or Smarties. Honestly, do people ever BUY Smarties for themselves? I made a quick scan of what was available, and I saw some variety packs of assorted good chocolate stuff that the others had apparently not seen. I made a mad dash to get two packs. I popped 'em in my cart and very confidently strolled to the checkout counter. The line was huge, and I noticed the elderly woman behind me had nothing in her cart but a box of Metamucil, so I let her go in front of me. I started to sing along with the muzak..."Precious and few are the moment we two can shaaaaaaare..." CRASH! I looked to my side and saw this huge pyramid of canned beets topple over. "Hope that wasn't my singing," I thought to myself, then turned back. Quicker than I could say "The cast of Wings should be sterilized," my treasures were GONE! I was completely bewildered. I was shocked when I looked in the cart ahead of me. The woman I had sacrificed selflessly for had two bags of assorted chocolates along with her Metamucil. I tried to conceal my anger and kindly said to the woman "Excuse me, I think those are my Halloween candies there." I believe she mouthed the words "Bite me." I walked right up to her cart and reached in and picked up what was rightfully mine. That's when she started bawling hysterically, which caused the entire supermarket to glare in my direction. I was frozen like Jennifer Tilly would be if you aimed a flashlight at her eyes. I was never so furious AND so humiliated; I just stood there with my hand in the metaphorical cookie jar. I slowly backed out of the store, and still candyless, I decided to go to a convenience store, where I bought 50 Chunky bars. A mixture of chocolate nuts and raisins makes my stomach turn, but hey, I didn't have to eat 'em. I had enough Chunky bars to feed a small South American country, or Marlon Brando. I sat down and started to watch Halloween. Before the opening credits were finished, the doorbell rang. "Trick Or Treat," I was greeted by a child and his mother. "Here ya go, fella," I smiled as I handed him a Chunky. The child glowed; the mother frowned. "Michael is ALLERGIC to nuts. Don't you have anything else?" she inquired. "Umm...n-n-no..." I stammered. The mother ripped the treat from her son's hand and handed it back to me, setting Michael into a temper tantrum. "I'm really sorry," I managed to say. "Thank you, thank you VERY much, it was his first Halloween and you ruined it for him. Aren't you proud of yourself?" she sneered as she stormed off. I sighed, shrugged, and went back to my movie. Five minutes later, more doorbell. Two teenage girls dressed up - looked like the girls from Clueless, gum chewing and all. "Like, trick or treat." I handed them two Chunky bars, which appalled them. Clueless #1: "Like HELLO, do you KNOW how many grams of fat are in a Chunky? Only like a MILLION!" and handed it back to me. Clueless #2: "Geez Louise, don't you have any like Snackwells or fat-free potato chips?" and deposited El Chunky back in my hand. And so it went all night. Kids whining about chocolate, kids complaining about raisins, kids bitching about options; in 4 hours I got through about 15 minutes of my movie. And got stuck with 45 Chunky bars. Hey, you want a Chunky? Last year I tried another great Halloween option - the costume party. I bopped on down to "Costumes R Us" to rent one, which was oh-so-wise to do on Halloween day. Sparse selection? The place was emptier than Jenny McCarthy's skull. Let me tell you, all eyes were focused when I stumbled in the door as a huge orange box of Tide. I felt about as mobile as Gilbert Grape's mother. I scanned the room and saw assorted Beavises, Ticks, Shannon Dohertys, Newt Gingriches, and one big orange blob. I went straight to the punch bowl and then mingled about. Everybody bored me, and they all seemed to be staring at the monstrosity that was my costume. Then I saw her, the woman I would spend forever with, the woman who wouldn't bitch at me for drinking milk out of the carton. She was a twin of Mia Wallace (a.k.a. Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction), and she looked me straight in the eye, walked up to me, and what followed was a few hours of engaging conversation; this and my never-empty punch cup kept me in seventh heaven. In the middle of debating which was more torture, watching the OJ trial or watching a Mickey Rourke movie, she blurted out "Do you always talk so much before you a kiss a girl?" That was all the invitation I needed. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed. It was just like the movies...the world started to spin in a little circle, like in a DePalma film, except it made me dizzy, and I suddenly realized it wasn't the kiss, but the heavy imbibing at the punch bowl. I lost my balance, which is not a smooth thing mid-kiss. The huge Tide box caused me to stumble and I held my love tight, knowing she would be my rock and prevent my imminent falling, but my feet became entwined with hers and I fell forward, taking Mia Wallace with me. I could see her expression of horror; the girl I so wanted to impress was being crushed by Mr. Tide himself. I believe the words that she used were "Jesus, I can't feel my legs!" I struggled and squirmed, as Batman and Thor managed to pull me off of her, but by then it was too late. Physically, Mrs. Wallace was fine, but she was none too pleased with my squashing her, inadvertent as it was. In fact, everybody at the party just sort of glared and pointed at me until I left in utter shame. No more Halloween parties for ME, thank you very much. Don't walk down the same unpaved road as I did. Learn from my mistakes, my friend. This Halloween, hide out with some friends, turn off on the lights and rent some movies. Try a couple of these; you'll thank me later. Halloween, Nightmare On Elm Street, Frankenhooker, Carrie, The Shining, Evil Dead 2, Dead Alive, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, The Exorcist, and Re-Animator. When the doorbell rings, don't answer it. There's no shame. In fact, I've found that detaching the doorbell all together makes things much more pleasant. And if you turn the volume up really loud, you can't even hear those little fists knocking. þùúùþ Drew Feinberg is twenty-something and resides in East Meadow, NY where he is currently a full-time philosopher. He enjoys watching movies and then bitching about them, joining crusades he knows he cannot win, and singing TV theme songs to anybody within earshot, especially the "Facts Of Life." Drew and his partner-in-crime, Jen, are starting their 'zine "Marvin Nash's Ear" in the very-near future so they can rant as long as they like to make the world smile and/or think, preferably both. For a free subscription, just send a request and the name of your favorite childhood board game to afeinber@panix.com I Am Trash Too þ Carolyn Hitt ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú rage to be delivered from the slippery catacombs of your innocence and your youth thinking i am a god but I am simple though you would make me a novel a painting a work of art I am trash too i am trash too i am trash too and maybe if you peeled the honey glazed wax from your eyes you would see that i am trash too and i though a granite slab may seem am but mortal in my confusion so don't tempt me with the virgin bulge in your leather because what's to say i won't bite my fangs are sharp and pierce without recognition and you won't know what sucked the life out of you til you are lying there helpless like raw chicken on the concrete the shards of me slicing at what you thought you owned - so don't fuck with what you don't know "The woman in me is the killer in you." Ä Courtney Love I'd Watch You Above In Crinoline þ Scott Cudmore ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú I'd watch you above in crinoline Upon the border of white beach and wave Arboreal, you'd sway on the interface Of endless ocean under endless sun. I'd wash you over in off-white gingham To your hair afix a pewter pin Remove the sand of yet one more day And shower you in kisses. In The Blue Light þ Jane Siberry ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù I was on a train Somewhere in Spain Sometime in the night I drew up my knees In second class And watched in the blue light Strangers beside me Strangers across from me They've closed their eyes So far away from home The empty stations echo As we go dreaming by I miss you like crazy I wish that you were here Holding me So many times I see something I want to show you Like the crazy man Crying on his violin I game him two drachmas for you And every city square Pigeons everywhere Fountains and painters I sit upon the step My chin upon my knees I watch lovers go by I miss you like crazy I wish that you were here Holding me Because you give me peace You give me hope I love you Of course - there are other men Sharing in the sways and bends Of Paris and Rome And though I do not know Exactly what the difference is I never asked them home It made me realize How beautiful and strange Is the bird of love It flies so differently Cries so differently From the bird of whatever the other I miss you like crazy I wish that you were here Holding me Because you give me peace You give me hope I love you Do I give you something too I was on a train Somewhere in Spain Sometime in the night I drew up my knees In second class And watched in the blue light "In some paradoxical way, the reason why Courtney Love and Kurt Cobain connected so much was that he was the female version of her and she was the male version of him." Ä Kevin Sessums Inside þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùú echoing, the silence ricochet against concrete walls resounding emptiness void of nothingness alone in the crowd red haze infests eyes prickly skin of armor stay away false love won't seep in for long no need, self-sufficient go away, begone hurt bludgeoning innards turmoil trapped within no escape hate the ones i love ghost of a face i don't exist i don't care but i do. "When she was in second grade in Eugene, Oregon, she was having a lot of nightmares. I had no idea what to do. I took her to a psychiatrist just to try to find some way to bring her some solace. The psychiatrist said part of the problem with her was that she needed to join Girl Scouts. She needed to be in normal kid activities. I dutifully went to a Brownies meeting with her...I could tell it was really hard for her to be in this room with all these kids. The person who was the Brownies leader suggested they have an art show. She asked all the kids to draw something. The things that Courtney drew were always startling. She didn't draw sunsets and apple trees. She would draw sort of...*wounded figures*. I can still see her that day - her little face so intense with those crayons. At the end of that, the teacher told the troop that they were going to see what drawing they liked the most by holding them up one by one and everyone applauding. I knew that this would be terrible for her. When it got to hers, she just grabbed it and ran over to me, and we left. At that time, when a child was exhibiting the kind of pain Courtney was exhibiting - a lot of nightmares and a lot of crying and hating school and hating *everything* - the treatment was pretty much to try and make that child what they called 'normalized' rather than saying, What kind of creature is this, and how can we make her be O.K. with who she is? That whole belief system was really awful for her." Ä Linda Carroll, mother of Courtney Love Inspiration þ Mark Hallman ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú You withdrew your tongue to plead, "Why aren't you moaning? "What am I doing wrong?" "Because," I answered, "you're making my head write poetry" "Courtney is very strong-willed and *not* afraid. I tend to be like that, too, but that can work to your detriment, because people think you're just loud and obnoxious when it's just having a point of view...People are intimidated by a woman who has an opinion...Rocksters spend a lot of time debating whether she's a junkie, or she's a bad mom, or did Kurt write her last album. Gossip focuses on the negative. But that fuels her. The more you hate her, or slag her off, that inspires her. She takes all that stuff and puts it into her work." Ä Amanda de Cadenet Last Waves þ Gena Schwam ùúùúùúùúùúùúù It seems they're dead lifeless squalls no more thrashing whitecaps like whipped cream capping the great blue waters so vast and tumultuous the waves are gone squalid pools lie everywhere the ocean is still the blue-green screaming hushed looks like velvet a cloth covering for the muddy crust dead sand piled up high debris settles across the floor the waves have stopped standing water like piles of liquid filth you can't even walk anymore the water has died the fish now float everywhere bloated scaly bodies insipid mist on the horizon where used to be seaspray damp humid fishy air has replaced the glory of the waves the colossal rainbows the foamy mist i stood and watched them die on the cliffs the last wave crashed at my heels saturating me i am the witness the only one the blood-lined mist curled around me sealing me in the present trapping me in the sorrow i was too a fish lacking oxygen gasping helplessly as the waves ended "The earth is not inherted from our ancestors; it is borrowed from our children." Loved Ya To Pieces þ Michelle Meldrum and Nicole Couch ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù Such a lovely day The sun was shining down on cell thirty-seven God, turn this water into whiskey sour Pay you back if I get to heaven No one to love or need, think I'm lonely Judge wouldn't pardon me, he only gave me A life long lease in a house that's ugly, And a maid that's big and mean Loved ya to pieces more than life Loved ya to pieces, cut like a knife Preacher spoke and grown men cried, Rest in pieces from your sweet little wife It was my last cigarette And I was looking back on you You were so damn sweet, lying in my sister's, Lying in my sister's bed Turn the other cheek, that's what they told me Lasted for a week, then they sold me A six-inch blade with your name written on it, A gift from me to you Loved ya to pieces more than life Loved ya to pieces, cut like a knife Preacher spoke and grown men cried, Rest in pieces Now I might sound a little bitter, baby But you know what I'm talkin' about You know it's cold inside, cold inside Yeah, I loved you too much Couldn't stand to see you Touching someone else Why not me Loved ya to pieces more than life Loved ya to pieces, cut like a knife Preacher spoke and grown men cried, Rest in pieces Loved ya to pieces more than life Loved ya to pieces, cut like a knife Preacher spoke and grown men cried, Rest in pieces from your sweet little wife "Is it better to out-monster the monster or to be quietly devoured?" Ä Friedrich Nietzsche Lovegone þ Marco Morales ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù I see your face just above the waves I hear your voice whispering away I wish you would come to stay but you're not here, and I'm alone again... I see your shadow overcast by the moon you feel so close I could almost touch... Alone, breathing in the dark empty eyes greet me every night volatile words born up in mid-flight beautiful shapes with empty arms hold me tight. When you're not here, my world isn't such. king of misery and beggar of love my chaos goes up in flames of alcohol as daybreak shines upon my restless soul. I may not be right, my heart could lie time could play cruel games on us life is not life, and the future may die but I know our shadows were not meant to part. I was wrong. Motherlove þ Marco Morales ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù Torn apart by the wrong of a child who, disobedient, left the house in dubious company, with older lads dirty, rotten in their smoke and drugs cries the mother, to see her child depart so innocent, so sweet, so far. She awaits in sorrow, in the dark on a solitary chair in an empty house void of laughter, pregnant with silence looking blearily at the wall, white, stark. pondering what woeful wrongdoings might her stolen sibling act. Sadly, the unforgiving hours drag, while by the minute, she falls apart in the spinning room of her heart. Impotent, letting out a quiet cry her tears burn her blinded eyes, 'til her blood runs thick, sad, dry. On a blue tiled floor she lies, lost in frilled remembrance of the past when her suckling toddler a breast greedily grabbed, when falling, taking refuge in her hand as he walked for the first time. Then, after many years and a day in a sudden, angry sway the cherubin became a young man drawn to concrete jungles, rage, rejection of the love of a mother because he was older in age. Without a kind letter or parting goodbyes he left, with a pack of prowling fiends. He shaved his head, lived his sins while burning, unwatched, her mother's eyes. Now she mourns, now she weeps her cries blue, infinite as the skies. With echoing noises, pots and pans forced from the cupboard, with a hand she wipes her tears, prepares dinner opens his bed, sees herself thinner and motherly, with the heartfelt hope that her son will, soon, come back home. "As Negative Approach said back in the day, 'Why be something that you're not?'" Ä Thurston Moore My Maple Tree Holds Green... þ Therese Leigh Stamm ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú my maple tree holds green close to its heart clutches it there to try to keep it longer while hot color implacably touches leaves hundred by hundred faster each crisp day tips turned crimson like a young girl's painted fingers here and there a flagrant cluster bleeds lipstick red in gold profusion. i think it dreams and dreads knowing winter is coming on remembering outer branches stripped naked diamond bright fused with ice and aches knowing no futile hope. (how many times has it known death) it gives a little more to the cold each night. remembering. how little time it will hold any green and how its core will hold onto pain after the killing frost remembering the summer that was lost. My Misery þ Phantom Blue ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú God only knows that sometimes It's hard to even fake a smile It gets so old looking at these city lights So dark and lonely, but I'll be all right I'm praying My misery, Bring it down, come and take it from me My misery Love is careless in just who it might see My misery So far away Closer than those who are surrounding me Something's reaching, something unseen Keeps coming over me and calling my name My misery "Courtney is not containable. She was never containable...My deepest fear about her is that what always made her life so torturous - this kind of psychic pain - is what is making her famous, and that ultimately has got to be *so* wounding. Her fame is not about being beautiful and brilliant, which she is. It's about speaking in the voice of the anguish of the world." Ä Linda Carroll, mother of Courtney Love Naked My Maple No Longer Shelters Me... þ Therese Leigh Stamm ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù naked my maple no longer shelters me from the eyes of the neighbors across the parking lot. all summer curtained in green i had no need to pull the shades or draw the drapes. now overnight stripped of foliage i am exposed to the world and no longer can lie uncovered on my bed basking in sunlight that streams east of verdant shadows onto my sheets caught in a baroque cluster of dangling crystals refracted on my walls in a flutter of rainbows. i console my tree - but you are still beautiful naked branches in crisp line reaching cleave the sky just as bones stripped of flesh have beauty piercing unlike the tender applecheeks of youth with all that is easy torn away so what remains of bones stark empty branches shape of true beauty one can hold run a finger along the underlying structure hardness of joint snap of twig think - mystery of cell and cell wall electricity to make the fluid flow urge the surge of sunlight driven sap in spring and know the quiet waiting the patience of winter. my maple tree flows now in dark lines silhouetted against the white sky a delicate extension upward fragile and elegant a graceful fall of branches bends with its own weight curves toward the glass of my window. "[Frances Bean Cobain is] so preternaturally *adult*. My daughter, Katie, is about two years older than Frances. At Christmastime, Danny and I took Katie and Frances to see 'A Christmas Carol'. We came home, and the kids were playing and they got in a fight, as kids do. My daughter tends to be a...well, 'brat' is one word that other people have used. Anyway, she said, 'Frances, I *hate* you!' She threw down a doll and stormed out of the room. The normal reaction is for the kid who is left stading there to start crying, especially if your mom or your nanny isn't there. Frances *did not bat an eye*." Ä Rosemary Carroll, Courtney Love's lawyer and wife of Warner's Danny Goldberg Pale Blue Eyes þ Velvet Underground, modified by Courtney Love ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù Sometimes Sometimes I get so sad Sometimes I feel almost heavenly but Baby I mostly feel mad Yeah, baby, you just make me mad Linger on, your pale blue eyes Linger on, your pale blue eyes It was good what we did yesterday And I'd do it again The fact that you're single Nearly proves that you're my best friend Well, I will never fuck anyone else again Linger on, your pale blue eyes Linger on, your pale blue eyes Thought of you as my mountain top I thought of you as my peak Thought of you as everything that I couldn't keep Yeah, that I had but I couldn't keep Linger on, your pale blue eyes Linger on, your pale blue eyes Used to blow inside of me Yeah you used to blow my heart I never had nothing anywhere so the end is where I start [...] Linger on, your pale blue eyes Linger on, your pale blue eyes "She gave the perfect strain to my heart." Ä Kurt Cobain Scream þ Gena Schwam ùúùúùúùúùúùúù The last breath has left me empty my diaphragm caving in the soulless night cracking above me into rain endless and shameless bleating whispers pleading with the sky not to break not to rain my carcass will decay my beauty will cease, fleeing from the taut dried flesh that once pulsated in rhythm with my heart my cheeks rose and fell imperceptibly they have fallen finally so i lie here not a woman anymore a corporeal female body in the slush in the rain my eyes match the sky drained and wet dripping all it has left pouring out all the tears one final time a sigh into the bliss no more dreams an alternate reality here beneath the hidden moon my hair grows no longer "I feel the pain of everyone, and then I feel nothing." Ä Dinosaur Jr. Shivers þ Dana Hurd ùúùúùúùúùúù this i want expand in me leave me gasping shivering sweating out the demons ripping at my stomach and stealing my mind this I need explosions in me riptides carrying my sanity please grasp at me catch me haunt me this is what I crave "I'm afraid to criticise her as I know she'll get upset and debate me and I have no quest for that - I talk about her more than anything else in these posts because she is special. She knows I have hopeful and loving feelings towards her even though I think she has an impossible and continuing destructo vibe. Drugs make her (and just about anyone I've known) confused/confusing and lousy to be around. Her existence and consciousness since Kurt's suicide is so extremely traumatized that I will never fathom her self-impression. I can only hope she can get away from body-politic as body-mutilation. She knows I know she's beautiful, but chemical obliteration clouds the reward and the romance. She likes music for the musician - who is the hero (who she can be). And she wants Buddhism - which is the worshipper worshipped. She can have all this without being crushed by inner and societal conflict. I see her happy, forgiven and pure. She's gonna have to believe in herself this way for the good of her own being and for that of Frances." Ä Thurston Moore, regarding Courtney Love Summoning þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùú Throwing myself down, Flung upon the ground - The Earth embraces me As my elbows dig trenches Into the dirt so soft... Packed, yet still...comforting Pillows of protection. Into my mouth, I taste the rusty scent - Pouring down my throat, Choking my gasps As teardrops fall all about To form tiny droplets of shiny, new mud In my now tangled swarm of tresses. Shoveling underneath my fingernails, I scratch until they bleed - Furrowing rows into the soil - Like a rake. Trying to become one With that of a lost soul, Someone taken away so abruptly from me... Crying helplessly - Come back... Torn up and tattered - I can't go on without you... Upon this grave - Oh, please God, PLEASE... Of yours. "Time. That's all there is. *Time*." Ä Courtney Love Temptress þ April M. Ardito ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù if tonight you were to grab my hand shower me with declarations of love and devotion promise me the world i'd only turn away hating this power you've forced on me wishing i could do something to make you take it all back but knowing i would never be able to break your heart i want to love you but i could never be what you need still i tempt fate teasing loving the feel of your body pressed against mine needing you "I like a little evil; sometimes it makes me feel." Ä Phantom Blue The Betrayal þ Marco Morales ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù I - The Fall Her soft hands and sweetness blinded my soul, how was I to know? As I fell I touched the sun, and its burning, twisting flames devoured my love in a ravenous rave of wrenching glow. My mind burnt and buried, wriggling worms wreck body and being Ripping skin, reducing organs to a rotting wound while the cemetery's black earth, cold, cruel, cranks my lifeless limbs. The stone-grey skin, pierced by skewing roots weaves into decay to feed blind trees, deeply rooted into hellbound graveyards. Flaming screams, churning my throat, burning coal through my innards, push tears of fire through a tight grimace, sending my soul astray. How can anything hurt so much? I crave physical pain to liberate the mind from the broken pieces I am. No freeing death nor comforting oblivion from pain's dart, condemned to coexist with love, that hot claw clenching my heart. II - Undead A thousand million worms feast in my intestines, their acid vomit dissolving a shredded cry. Love is the door to suffering; a deceiving reception to the dark, murderous hell of separation. Is the initial pleasure worth the torments of the soul? An instant of sublime heightening, fond affection of someone dear and a lifetime of dreaded sorrow and harsh, lone fear. Undead by numbness to reality, abandoned to the unknown. History repeats itself as young lovers burn up in flames blinded by the folds of love which nurtures their feelings, mocks affection and posesses the soul like a spider, weaving the destruction of the poets, plotting, creeping. III - Solitude And the worst torment - solitude. Loneliness, as extense as the Pacific seas, where there is nothing but blue. Alone, like the hangman's tree in the open field, rotten through against the rage of the weather, unbeloved, misunderstood. The solitude of the lone wolf, sick and old, left behind to die is like the lonely grievance of a thousand men, quietly drinking, anonymously hanging onto the bottle, absently singing voicing the emptyness of their hearts in a howling cry. IV - Abandonment Would death help me forget, then come sweet and swift, lift me off this thoughtless world, and rock me to sleep. I yearn for dreamless nights and absent days to die at dawn and repose at night. Let the blood come gushing out, my life slowly consuming away. I want to smoke away, to disintegrate, and forget, like a candle, suddenly blown away. What else is left in this pompous heart? Great monuments to knowledge, hidden treasures and mighty deeds. What is the use, when there is no reason to live? Without you. I merely exist. Death would forgive me, the pain ease. but I am unforgiven, unaccounted, undead. Cannot repose in peace. Damned to lurk the surface of this earth tormented, mutilated, pierced, eyes torn out of their housing when lovers kiss. I still remember how it used to be... V - Regrets HOWL! SCREAM! CRY OUT! Let me die, let me out! Is it so much to ask? Will no one hear my shout? I don't eat, I don't smile. Life is just a buffoon's act. Watch me laugh! Angela, Angela, Angela! 'Tis your name in fire branded on my heart. For every letter, a thousand sufferings, for every thought, a million tears of blood. Angela... That word capable of inflicting the most excruciating pain. The word that brings lost memories, desperation and anguish And yet, it was my choice to love you. What a fool!! Didn't I know the price to pay? Did I not know this black day would finally come, to take you away. I only want to forget, and dull the pain. "And one never knows if letting someone in beyond the barrier, beyond the mask that we all pose to the world, letting them see who and what you really are, is worth what that one soul can do with this knowledge of all your happiness & hardships..." Ä Robb Buchanan The Bird þ Zowie Mills ùúùúùúùúùúùúù She swoops low, mangled destiny, deliverer of death, and gathers me up in her unloving arms to soar again. Off to the clouds of despair, and to places untouched by kindness, and unknown to lover's dreams. In this twisted solace of this my final summit I look out over a domain cast down, trodden under the feet of Her, She who so quickly turns away love as if it were a gentle, but unwanted rain. Advances over, daunted, my gaze drops. Times of passion and love return, if only in mind, and deliver their mocking messages of pain and darkness. I look up into the bird's eyes, and what do I see? The cold, steel-hard gaze as she looks at her prey of me. My heart yearns both for release from her talon, as much as to feel the warmth of her breast. Indecision is my plague, inaction my dominion. Frozen in this abyss, I neither struggle nor advance. And what becomes of the prey? Perhaps Dianna would tell, were she here to guide me, as the to-be slain, the still-walking dead, am I. The Burning þ Janet Kuypers ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù I take the final swig of vodka feel it burn its way down my throat hiss at it scorching my tongue and reach for the bottle to pour myself another. I think of how my tonsils scream every time I let the alcohol rape me. Then I look down at my hands - shaking - holding the glass of poison - and think of how these were the hands that should have pushed you away from me. But didn't. And I keep wondering why I took your hell, took your poison. I remember how you burned your way through me. You corrupted me from the inside out, and I kept coming back. I let you infect me, and now you've burned a hole through me. I hated it. Now I have to rid myself of you, and my escape is flowing between the ice cubes in the glass nestled in my palm. But I have to drink more. The burning doesn't last as long as you do. þùúùþ Janet Kuypers, Chicago, is the editor/publisher of the literary/art magazine "children, churches and daddies". She has had two books published, _hope chest in the attic_ and _the window_, is a graphic designer by day, and also sings with a band. Bio sketch: Employment: Art/Production Editor for a publishing company in Chicago Education: bachelor in News/Ed. Journalism (Communictions), with a minor in photography, from the University of Illinois, Urbana/Champaign Publication Credits: published over 600 for writing and over 150 for artwork. "What Courtney has in her she *came* with. The reason that I'm a therapist is that I began taking her to therapists by the time she was two, and could really find so little help and empathy for both of us in the people I went to. She was in *so much pain*. And that manifested itself ever since she was a little girl in ways in which I had no clue how to deal with. I had no idea of any way to help her except just to love her and hold her. When I started taking her to therapists, one of the awful things that happened was they began to pathologize her, which is what psychology has done with what they don't understand. I think that Courtney came with a tremendous sense of pain in her...She's not that different than she was when she was two years old...Yet there are times, even as a small child, she would be really, deeply touched by something. And when that would happen it was as though every part of her went soft for a little while - including her heart. Even then she was touched by oppression and pain. It was a part of her that I think was genuinely touched by Kurt. They were very alike. I don't know if this is true, because I didn't know Kurt when he was only two, but I suspect that Kurt was pretty different until he was about 9 or 10. I don't think Courtney was. I think she has carried this grief longer, and maybe that's why she's a survivor, because she came with it and she had to learn how to survive with it from the beginning...Strangely enough, she was an absolutely, unimaginably calm and happy baby. She hardly cried." Ä Linda Carroll, mother of Courtney Love The Cheval Glass And The Fountain þ Jenniffer L. Lesh ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù The old cheval mirror was tired of its life. _I'm always everyone but myself_, it thought, and walked away from the boudoir. It wandered through the house and felt architectural elements move fleetingly across its surface - crown molding, sconces, corbels, wainscoting. Being the echo of this large house, however solid its contents, wasn't enough. The mirror walked outside and filled to overflowing with the riches of a garden. Roses bloomed in its path and said, _You are too kind in your compliments_. Then it met with a woman stooping by the fountain who put a withered hand to her face and fled, crying _You are too harsh! I hate you!_ The mirror shuddered silverly and tilted back, clouds skating across the empty heavens of its gaze. _I am nothing more than an eye without a mind behind it_, it murmured. Waters gurgled assent in the fountain and the mirror turned towards the sound and found itself wrinkling and smoothing on a happy surface. The mirror moved closer and then paused. Even today, it stands sentinel there, reflecting itself infinitely against this reciprocal welcome, fascinated beyond belief. The Insane People That Are Notably Sane þ Kylie Johnson ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù Shadowed white night Stark naked you stand Looking at the land Eyes obscure from all reality Stains on your face Show us not a race Nor all your grace But I know What you are searching for And how you are alone And how you fear us They don't listen I do, so listen Listen to me too. Shadowed white night Life is all too short And you need support With me you will survive Ne'er perish under this day Keep memories at bay Forever I shall stay Because I know What you are searching for And how you are alone And how you fear us They don't care I do, so tell Tell me if I speak truths. If you believe me Then let is show Sparkle and glow Show me yourself Help me to unveil you For you show the strength Of more people than those that live. Shadowed white night Pictures all aglow but bare Of things so beautiful and rare Like things we imagine much A fantasy world as such Full of life and love Pure as a twilight dove All alive in your mind and mine. Because I know What you are searching for And how you are alone And how you fear us But you are my saviour For I am your shadow And with you I shall go. Thinking Of The Dead Child þ Maree Jaeger ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú The mother the father the dead child and the child sit together and the father (thinking of the dead child) butters his bread and says to the child look at the huge boat sailing out to sea The mother thinking of the dead child (always thinking of the dead child) nods and smiles and stares at the boat sailing out to sea and the child (thinking of the dead child) looks at the father buttering his bread looks at the mother nodding, smiling, staring, out to sea and softly half to himself - I wonder if boats really go anywhere? I wonder if boats really go anywhere? "The American public really does have a death wish for me. They want me to die. I'm not going to die." Ä Courtney Love Through The Faces þ Marisa VanDyke ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú I am here, at the circus you are there, in the crowd I may be only 4 feet tall in your world of many places traveled, many girls romanced but this feeling is drawing me to you through all the faces and I'm walking the tight rope balancing myself only on empty air to get to you, before you leave all past lovers, forgotten friends are reaching out thier hands yet I seek your help only through all the faces of love, fame, or money all I see is you and the gypsy woman tells me to remove my suit of armour so I stand vulnerable waiting to recieve a blow but strong arms rescue me and it is you "What's the season of love if you can't have everything What's the reason of love if you can lose everything What's the meaning of love, it's a crime if anything What's the meaning of love, it's grand..." Ä Kurt Cobain Untitled þ Angie Cooper ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú Love has taught me well How to forgive---but not forget How to smile---but more to frown How to laugh---but more to cry How to share---but more to hide How to treasure---but more to abhor How to communicate---but more to sulk Honesty Trust Commitment Togetherness Why do I let such painful memories haunt my existance and force me to hide deep within my tough shell? Well-protected and well-isolated I shall never give in Not without a fight Seems all it was ---fights Can you remember any particular week that passed in which hurting words were not a part? Me neither Seems a shame two friends and lovers ended this way At least the way I am You You have learned to love again Or are you hiding yourself behind a false sense of security? Me I have not allowed myself that freedom which you possess, which would ignite my heart and soul, once more to give the happiness once rendered me Seems like every time I get the chance, a false set of circumstances arises which shadows the reality of it all I cannot let go I cannot let go My tenacious claws grab for true love But cling and lock to the wasted time I have allowed myself for falling in love again I cannot let go of the emptiness of my heart Without you By my side holding me comforting me I cannot let go of the memories which haunt me yes, haunt me Scare me to death Will I ever be able to cast that demon aside who is so delicately perched upon my heart and in my soul? That love bird gone awry I cannot let go of the fact that you are the only man I have ever loved and the fact that I have not stopped loving you I cannot let go I cannot let go Cast your fears aside and come inside Let me shelter you Protect you I will not harm you as I have been harmed Cast your fears into that pit of despair and open your heart to the true you Answer its questions Hear it call for TRUE love Hear it call my name Come to me Come to me Come in me Let me feel your strength and warmth inside of me Kiss after kiss Lick after lick Stroke after stroke Thrust after thrust Moan after moan As we lay there naked bodies intertwined Let me feel the love you have for me again again again Comfort me Love me Hold me Never let me go Teach me Teach me love again Teach me well. "As you dig into drawers while someone is away, being overly suspicious and untrusting, trying to find some evidence of unfaithfulness, stop and reflect for a minute. Are you wrongfully accusing and/or snooping for no real reason? Then perhaps you are projecting your own character of infidelity onto this person, and the actual person you might need to trust in first...is yourself." Ä Twilight Untitled þ Leanne Kruse ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú Memories slicing my mind open revealing the cancerous thoughts that permeate my unconsious. These thoughts twist and mutilate my logic, clouding my vision and attacking my need for life. Darkness is where I cower, I hide from poisonous emotions, emotions that will tear me from reality and throw me to the demon. His mouth wide open, revealing a cancerous tongue that longs to lick my blackened heart. My legs are split open so u can use and abuse what was never really mine. MUTILATE ME! KNIFE ME! STRETCH ME! Don't worry, I won't feel the pain because pain is something I am now immune to. C'MON DEMON LOVER, FUCK ME DEEP INSIDE WITH YOUR PHALLIC KNIFE!! Engrave my heart, carve my soul and mind, leave me here, sickened, twisted and cold. I'll walk away enveloped in darkness ready to face my next demon who I will fuck, twist and mutilate. Then I will be the one with my mouth wide and open, waiting to lick someone's blackened heart. "Courtney has that element of danger. You never know what she's going to do next. We're not used to seeing that in a woman. We're used to seeing that from Jim Morrison, or Iggy Pop, or from Johnny Rotten in the early days of the Sex Pistols. She's a rock star in the sort of unpredictable, volatile way that people voyeuristically expect." Ä Syndicated columnist Lisa Robinson, seeing Courtney Love, ironically, as the latest in a long line of male rockers Untitled þ Libby McGroom ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù I came out to see you but you were not there Someone else was in your place same eyes, same lips, same hair At first it struck me funny This stranger by my side! But he held such loath and hatred He stripped away my pride "Where's the man I love?" I asked "What have you done with him?" But he just stared a dead man's stare and gave a ghastly grin Then I looked into his eyes and caught a glimpse of you Somewhere in this stranger's soul was the man that I once knew Vows þ Mike Randall ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú before you left you should've taken those flowers shadows race over the roof and leaves choke and fall littering your earth shake now and all my rooms are empty bare walls that click with your heels watching nothing but the dust collect where, well you used to know and you forgot the faucet. still drips anyway outside the trees stand naked shake now because when that door closed so did i and now i'm left with one less thing without sounds and smiles without scents and feelings color...and now i'm shaking and nothing's left except the ghost of a child playing a toy piano in the corner. Wasted Moments þ Angela Dawn Soutar ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú Sand slips through his fingers as the waves crash to the shore and birds soar overhead. Yet, it all goes unnoticed He sees only the brilliant images flashing incessantly in his mind He yearns for the past, for the way things used to be. But he can't go back. So instead, he sits in the midst of life, not realizing that every moment passing by is becoming yet another wasted moment. "Life is for entertainment purposes only. All other use voids warranty." You're Free þ Michelle Meldrum and Nicole Couch ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù I found you I know where you're at I'm so tired of sleeping Through these nights, lonely nights Close my eyes sometimes Go now, you're free Walk away from me Go now, you're free I was so blind Slow mind Go now Hearts breaking, shattered in two You kept on pushing through You heard me crying lately Bought what you said, yeah yeah All those lies you told me, Have gone to your head - Go now, you're free Walk away from me Go now, you're free I was so blind Slow mind Go now Is this how it's ending? That's all there was to say Backed in a corner, give it a break Not made of mercy You get what you give Misunderstanding how much I'd take Go now, you're free, Walk away from me Go now, you're free, I was so blind Slow mind Go now "Smile...no one understands you." ßÜ ÜßÜÝÜßÜ ßÜÞÜß Ü Ü Üß Ü ÜßÜ ÝÜßÜß ÜßÜßÜ ßÜßÜ ÜßÜßÞÜß ÜßÜ Ü ßÜÜßÜß ßÜßÜÜß Ü ßÜßÜÝÜßÜß ÜßÜ ßÜ ßÜ ß ßÜßÜß Üß Ü Ü ßÜÝÜß Üß ÜßÜ ßÜÜßÜßÜ Üßßß Üß Û Ü ÜßßÜÞ ÜßÜß Ü ßÜßÜÜ ßÜß Üß ßÜÜß Üß Ü ßßÜßÝßÜß ÜÜ ßÜßßÜ ß Üß ÜßßÜÜß ÜßßÜ ßÝß ÜßÜ ßÜßßÜ ß Üß ÜßßßÝÜß ÜÜßÜÞÜßÜß ÛÞßßÜ ß ß ÜÜßÜßÜß ÜßÜÞÜß ÜßÜÝßÜÜß Ü Üßßßß ßÜßÝÜßÜÜßÜß Ü Ü Ü Ü ßÜ ßÜ ßÜßßßÜÜßÝÜÛßÜßÜÜß Üß Üß Üß Ü ßÜßÜ ßÜÜßÜßÜßÜßÜßÜÜÛÛÛÜßßÜßÜßÜßßßÜÜß ÜßÜß ßÜßÜßÜßÜßßÜ ßÜ ßÜßÜß ß Ý ß ßÜ ßÜßÜ ßÜßÜßÜßßÜ ÜßßÜßÜ ßÜßÜ ßÜ ß Þ ß ß ß ß ß Ý Ý Þ ß ùtwiù Legalize. ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù Submit your original literary works for Spilled Ink, [volume seven], to Twilight via Internet e-mail: twilight@mail.utexas.edu ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù