Some Gin Ingredients by Stephen Lindow



From China? Eye of Licorice you come. A taste bud like a mermaid is mere opinion. When you’re away from me—it’s Xanadu. You are stag, a leader of somersault for the co-efficient of wishful thinking. Your ways lack a roof east towards miscellany. Glisten if you are conscious of light sleeping in plants. I’m going to draw just enough breath for honesty: a wildcat soon vomits my silhouette on a snowbank. I am unbeheadable. Carving knife sweeter than sloth gains among poison ivy ajar.




Sweet Achille’s tendon! Iris Root from Mongolia! Fixative short-circuiting the nasal, you crawl up a burning staircase littered with snakes without registering 1/16th of death’s arrow collection. In an interlude b/w the sound of chopping firewood, I wish ghosts were more serious than I thought. Your hamstring is improperganda [sic]for oxtail ragout. Do not attempt in your swim across Horse Neck Straits: Goldilocks? Delicious armpits in silkiness grows the anvil and puts

us in a heart to aim by. A museum is founded for lightning.




Dastardly hemoglobin of Cubeb Berries from Java! You allow us to speak fluent fluent, disagreeing by example—or not. While whistling demonic soundtracks from a tool shed, astronauts return half as strong as they were when they left. Irony fizzles like the isotopes in forgiveness. You have us stripe ourselves in coral snake colors. When you steal from my breath: a rabid knucklehead in arrears threatens the aftermath of all this. For people twelve and older, ask your doctor.




Rasia Bark from Indo-China I cannot come clean with you. The time signature of your ingredient is 35% of your vagina. Fate finds a way to butt in the front of the line before vanity thinks cut in. Linguistic osmosis is a long list of tigers ready for our adoption whose many teeth will come to fit you. Did you walk to work or bring your lunch? Remain unto you the inconsiderate opinions of those who have done nothing to become bitter in their expectations of your talent. Double-navel rabbit

under the backlight cotillion.


Stephen Lindow

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3 thoughts on “Some Gin Ingredients by Stephen Lindow

  1. Stephen Lindow says:

    Dear Stephen Lindow, these don’t look like poems. Are sure sure you know what you’re doing? These poems have no meter and no ryhme. I don’t understand.

  2. rrusson says:

    Thanks for planting a big grin on my face with those delightfully mind-altering juxtapositions of the English. I’ve got to make it to a reading some day.

  3. Andrew Volstead III says:

    Your poetry encourages alcoholism. Either we will attempt to concoct and imbibe these magical elixirs, or we will require the aid of a good scotch or bad gin to facilitate our understanding of the recipes.

    I am reminded of the last words of that great Republican parliamentarian Andrew Volstead, who said: “I don’t care whose bathtub it came from, give me a swig posthaste.”

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