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