Arsenic Lobster poetry journal
Issue Twenty-one
Winter 2009
| Home | Current Issue | Contributors | Review | 2009 Pushcart Nominees | Order | Archive | Submission | About Us | Contact Us |
 
Habeas Corpus
Chris Ridenour

Though Stephen shod would snivel yellow,
barcalounger bound, for seven planets
this was holiday. Linoleum and dagger,
tailgate sinking, mine the slag
and wooden nickels from the morgue.
Tokyo pachinko, steel balls
and Stephen walked a hard-on mile
just because. More than half will have
eleven toes and tissue paper cerebellum.
Knightsbridge, every wife has taken house
and waxen made will, burning, set as oil lamps
on the lawn. Look at his as Stephen does,
aquarium at heart. Cheese is Jesus,
Black Hills gold in glass Coke bottles,
come in buffalo machines.
Back in Eisenhower postage stamps
cost just a grape seed, Stephen set his feet
beside tomato worms and put the baby
down to sleep.

About Chris Ridenour

| Home | Current Issue | Contributors | Review | 2009 Pushcart Nominees | Order | Archive | Submission | About Us | Contact Us |