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About this Poem 

“The poet Niina Pollari has a book coming called Dead Horse, and in it is an amazing poem about debt—how she loves her debt and thinks about it as part of her physical being. Reading that poem...her voice really got in my head, and the notes that I had been jotting down on my phone for whatever my next poem would be became this poem. I owe this poem to Niina Pollari.”

—Justin Marks

Money Is an Energy

Justin Marks

Everybody is already
someone else
An existential tag line

Money is current

I would like to not live
paycheck to paycheck

You could make a pun on currency
but not quite

Money is an energy nonetheless

Dark space        Dark water

A long silent drive

Dark matter(s)

Driving is my personality

The methods of one wor(l)d revealing
the hidden harmonies of another

Prayer card      Lotto ticket      You occupy
my pocket

My payment has not arrived

Copyright @ 2014 by Justin Marks. Used with permission of the author. This poem appeared in Poem-a-Day on May 15, 2014.

Copyright @ 2014 by Justin Marks. Used with permission of the author. This poem appeared in Poem-a-Day on May 15, 2014.

Justin Marks

Justin Marks

Justin Marks is the author of You're Going to Miss Me When You're Bored (Barrelhouse Books, 2014) and A Million in Prizes (New Issues Poetry & Prose, 2009), which was chosen by Carl Phillips as the winner of the 2009 New Issues Poetry Prize. He is co-founder of Birds, LLC and lives in Queens, New York. 

by this poet

poem

Love endures like war
A connection I make then let
be unmade    Some guy
nodding out in a Starbucks,
severe career advice
from strangers    It’s 1pm and reality
is palpable    A gun
I leave my DNA wherever I can
and have no opinions to speak of
except when showering

2
poem

I live in New York City and a horse
goes clopping by my window.
Then I don’t
hear the horse anymore.
All promises
have been broken.
I lie in bed and pretend
to sleep. On occasion
I see babies sleeping,
little ones lying
on their backs
with baby bones
and

2
poem

The bizarre sound of my own
name repeating and people
praying
My hair getting
unwieldy in a world filled
with an abundance that approaches
formlessness    Strangeness
and beauty    Truth
is a melody like a leach
or the aftermath of the disaster
there is no trace of

2