Leveler Poetry Journal
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All These New Caves


I’m snout deep in the grey rivers
of the curbs, who are built, clumsily


by the layers of yellow sediment
flowing from the parking garage


and into the thick glassy delta
of the offices downtown


leading me into something else
piped and subterranean


some place full of vapors and fish
and black elevator shafts


and shores of slick cement
painted with grey moss


where I lay, un-tying the knots
in the fur on my stomach


thinking, “Why do we argue
anyway? Oh, I forgot. It’s summer time.”

Jeff Hipsher