Any sufficiently advanced technology, as Arthur C. Clarke said, is indistinguishable from magic. And sometimes, advanced technology can be so maddening it’s indistinguishable from black magic– kind of like in “Warlock,” one of four bewitching poems by William Lessard in our Summer 2016 issue.

{ X }

PASSWORD: INCORRECT
user: not found
someday my magic
will be perfect,
my spells
not a question
of
the right conjuring
of
wordssymbolsnumbers
this world
a sad
warlock
trying to remember
is it
my mother’s
maiden name
or
my best friend
at school
turns enemies
into
tree frogs,
makes gold
shine
across my palm
I will not yield
I will not
angry
at
Warlock Tech Support
outsourced
to the middle
of
your favorite song
angry
at
my
angry-at
I am the warlock
you forget
during commercials
one day
I will lift
the
ocean
you
will kiss

{ X }

WILLIAM LESSARD has writing that has appeared or is forthcoming in McSweeney’s, NPR, Prelude, Wired, People Holding. His chapbook Rembrandt with Cell Phone was published by Reality Beach in May 2016.