Arsenic Lobster
poetry journal |
Issue Twenty-two Spring 2010 |
| Issue twenty-two, Spring 2010 | |
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Toasts to Arsenic Lobster Now this is a despair I can believe in. It's got that special something that a silver suit would wager breakfast on. —From Mission Statement by Janelle Elyse Kihlstrom Lift up your glass! That the tap may be open when it rusts! Congratulations to ArsenLob contributors Lois P. Jones and Sara Tracey. 2010 is the first year Arsenic Lobster Poetry Journal has been invited to nominate contributors to the ‘Best New Poets’ series. We are thrilled to nominate these two fine poets! –and truly, toasts of the town! Also a major toast and many thanks to George Pichowsky, the ArsenLob webmaster, for linking our website to PayPal; now, you can purchase Arsenic Lobster anthologies online in just a few clicks! May we be alive at this time next year— May we explore the ‘Results for ‘Leave’ from the Historical Dictionary of American Slang’ by Laura E. Bontrager and decide to stay. May we discover the beauty of Steven Teref’s haunting ‘night letter’: each night letter sets fire to its own starling and dances a black dare around it until the starling burns out. and never burn out. May we remember pouring tea for Bear when everything went electric white with Tiffany Krupa so that we will never forget the God-delivered numb that created us. ‘We should all eat lobster’ with Arlene Ang and drink like Barbies stripped of hair and clothes. Here’s looking at you kid— As you travel from room to room, exile to exile with Valerie Fox and Arlene Ang till you pass out cold. As you hold the phone away to yawn and discover: We live here. We live here because we keep saying we’re going to leave. Just as Meghan Tutolo discovered. As you drink your juice like blood, but orange to the sound of birds singing like devils with Gale Acuff. |
Here’s mud in your eye! A sundial in your mouth! –Jessica Reidy A necklace made of pills around your neck! –John Thomas Allen Your ashes thrown into the sea!—Jean Hollander Full breeds of butterflies in your shoelaces!—Peter Isaac Schwartz Down the hatch! And into the rented house about to burn into morning. –Joshua Davis And into patterns that catch and dispel the light.—Saba Razvi And into the horizon of memory.—Daniel H. Robbins And into bed with an enormous wet tongue.—Meg Reilly Bottoms Up! Forget seeking reasons. The dead are stronger than us. —from Eloquence of Frozen Daffodils by David Kowalczyk Prost! Cheers! --- Susan Yount Editor & Publisher, Arsenic Lobster Poetry Journal |
