Poetry: Ben Mirov

darklings



lost is the echo
that sleeps out of the matrix
the dead part in sound machine
shining and dull
its hands are raised
like it’s begging for food
motes of dark are functioning
the shadows and the teeth
filling the void
a frozen lung tree












lost is the echo
that sleeps from the matrix
sleeping in time
to die at the hands of song
nodding dead in silence
nothing solid clone
piecing shit together with its sound
the fingers and the teeth
life shakes underwater
shaped like sleep












shaped like sleep
this thing that hath a code
and not a core
piecing shit together with its sound
nodding dead in silence
nothing solid clone
where shadows make shadows
shaped like sleep
the sound of static
shaped like sleep












dark dark grows the Eye
about the labor of fakers
the fingers and the teeth
fading in the dark
nothing solid clone
sleeping in time
to die at the hands of song
death’s sound too
shaped like sleep
wet with dew











Parts of these darklings are constructed of language taken from Prince Albert I of Monaco; William Beebe; kari edwards; Tim Hecker; Daido Ichi’i; Joseph Lease; Theodore Monod; Ezra Pound; Rainer Maria Rilke; David Shapiro; and Jack Spicer. Some of these parts have been altered from their original form.






newauthorphotoBen Mirov is the author of Hider Roser (Octopus Books, 2012). He is also the author of Ghost Machine (Caketrain, 2010) selected for publication by Michael Burkard, and chosen as one of the best books of poetry in 2010 for Believer Magazine’s Reader Survey. He is one of the founding editors of PEN America’s poetry series. He grew up in Northern California and lives in Oakland.