Arsenic Lobster poetry journal |
Issue Thirty-one Spring 2013 |
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The Emotional Territory of Screens Andrew McIntosh Message me real. This password-happy life. I, eyepiece. I, fisheye lens. We’ll design a level for Him: He whose solo injuries and single-player sword we unearthed in Galilee. I came until I died, I worked, I said. A supply of rapid-fire breath on-hand will round out any arsenal. O ancient, O real possibility! I will do my killing from trees. Will we match or marry? No, the cable modem said: we slew that possibility together. |
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