Leveler Poetry Journal
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Interview


Have you eaten?

Yes, of the roots.


But is the body not now dying?

Inasmuch as it was a fire.


Beforehand?

The beginning is bitten.


And what is an apple, then?

Outside the lines, uncooperative child.


Who holds the pencil?

God holds the pencil.


What do you hold to be true?

Not every creature yawns when I yawn.


Are you tired?

The volcano nods before it rises.


Have you seen a crater lake?

Carbonation belches unholy in a field of dead cattle.

It casts a withering net.


And who is there with you?

I can’t turn my head. I have

no concept of restraint.


Then what’s straight ahead?

An ember breathed into, the flicker

immaterial, it could be a fruit

or fist, the boiling crawl of veins.


Are you a child? A hungry child?

My mouth is a nest

you fail to thicken.


To a state of belief?

Not even when I’ve laid my hands

to rest on your throat.


You seem unsettled.

But every brain’s in chambers.

Even the brain of disaster.


You seem very unsettled.

In my brain a black-eyed deer

gnaws at the staples in a telephone pole.


Do you dream of blue light?

Do you carry my voice in your hair?




Dan Rosenberg