The Lever

»Would you say that your (artistic) practice is political? If so, how would you describe its political dimension?«

In answer to the posed question (very simply): Yes.



The Lever

I spend hours as a gambler shovels coins

in whatever currency we keep

letting all our hours sleep

in the unbreakable brains of our machines.

When I pull the lever I know the lever.

I know each second before each second knows

me, but while I think this doubles me

I’m halved. When I pull

the lever I know the lever

pulls me; so I say the lever

has to do with love; because I want

to know you but know your being

makes me half-sad you’re wholly here,

half-happy. I’m here to collect matter

that will let us build a new life. Still;

as the advertisements know,

there’s nothing to it.

I ask for one more day, and it comes.


This poem previously appeared in Five Dials.