Arsenic Lobster
poetry journal |
Issue Seventeen Summer 2008 |
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Anthologies Ray Succre The reel and hook bust mud, who suffers history. That I may cast and shoot fish from the specters, kings from under the hills, is Grendel learning, is a taste of frost. The books are opened, anthologies proper, and sauce is used at a lectern to romp the reading palate onto record. That I am with certain smarts is smartly a dove to the foxtooth, for I now see myself between covers, in sauces. These hooks in my bird chitters recite when the squawking cocks back, and the horror peaks into me, a fact and dull bric-a-brac, flailing my doll form in a hungry hug. The reel and hook have pulled me in where I once drew my sight and meal. |
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About Ray Succre |