Leveler Poetry Journal
About Leveler Submission Guidelines More Poems

Lost Morning Eyes


Every answer is in the slippery grass, an olive

snake with black eyes, a black painted snake

flashing crimson. Funny how the diagnostically

lonely mind eats its fruit. Worn leather so


smooth beneath our clinging. I’m becoming

a swimmer. The flecks of purpose circle

the hairs beneath the surface, gritty rocks

coated firm in damask silk. Having reached


the absolute center of the lake, it began to

rain- I would expect one lapse to end safely- is it

the end of the self or of the body? A frog

reads posture each day the sky grows wider


snarling discreet whorls, this wilder temper

like a sponge creature tensing all apertures

at once. They said my father has mental health


problems, issues in his internal chemistry,

but all I have seen is wise lost morning eyes,

sinking distance like gauzy rind drywalled over


a bright synaptic charge. We inherit diseased

fish with hooks disintegrating in their bellies, one

is caught still not disgesting its mother ruin,

poor word- secret beat aflow artificial


tides. This pool has been widened. For

convenience snake the hose around the

torso resigning alone to kissing dawn-


Maybe I have not seen the truth that is

done, horror aggregated in a weak hunch

of what was done- mania is imminent, we

have swum the surrender permitting


swollen dams to interfere with any single

change. I can give paper to the lake coating

her skin with mine. One word for space

is panic, another is in its own private time.

Judah Aryeh Levenson