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Mark Fleury 2017 poetry book

the Eight Wheeled
Doorway of
Serpent’s Head


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Mark Fleury poetry book
The Sentient Beings

Mark Fleury

The sentient beings
Created from heat are in
The mustaches of world leaders.

Their hair has dungeons filled
With heavy machinery. Throats with power
Switches. The motors in their heads float

Like beach balls carried out to sea. Water laps the greasy
Brick walls. As it pours out, in between the bars

On a window, a beach ball, feeling light, is too empty to escape.
Various cabbage heads have been scattered across the concrete floor,
Reflected in puddles. The emptiness inside of the purple wounds
Of the rainbow will heal and all of the rest of the vegetables
Will be cleaned as well as eaten.

The soil has returned to the sky in your head.

Our appetites meet where a beach ball
Has returned to a child on the shore.

The castle’s dungeon of sand has been washed away by the tide.

The motor in the basement of my stomach has turned
My legs into waves, my naked cold trembles into the intestines
Of Atlantis. Empty and light. There’s nothing inside of me

That can be hidden. The sunrise in a womb has straightened
My back. I carry in my veins the blood of lightning
And trees. Eclipses are poured from a wine bottle
Into my broken Holy Grail, healed here.



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