Arsenic Lobster
poetry journal |
Issue Twenty-six Summer 2011 |
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Light at the End of the Attik Lance Stemen Orange crosshatch not truly if taken from an attacked billboard shatter, reconstructed five noises of sanctuary lined up as holy books to subvert the oceans of violation we drink in our sleep, we are at the mercy of digital paper, so dead then. We read light now. What are you saying? To be in the motion of light, do you understand? This is grace. The black plastic square on the table. It’s been in my pocket since I left, and it doesn’t have any wear marks. Take your thumb and flick it over the fence, for the other guys. |
About Lance Stemen |
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