Leveler Poetry Journal
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from Dear Mark


 


Like Malevich’s black

square,

the future is full


of devices that sleep

& devices

that inhabit sleep.


Hordes of blackflies

flown

from the cellar


into shadows

we spend

to know the world


exists.

A thick layer

of soot rests


over our eye-

lids & we stand

inside a giant


briquette

& stretch

into the hole


in your terrarium.

We make ends

meet.


The tornado

that swept through

Brooklyn


began inside

your house,

inside the box



that you have

not allowed

light


inside your house.

Your golem

is here


& smokes

cigarettes

inside a lighthouse


& emits

dark matter

by which


we are to find him.

We are time-

travelers.


In sleep

our bodies are full

of wormholes.




Martin Rock