01 October 2008

zachari j popour

intellectual property

every excursion
seems to be
cause for concern;
those simple,
often wasted,
spasmatic efforts.
something as simple
as dialing a number
to be put on hold,
a walk to the mailbox
to find only bills,
or your hand
reaching for another hand
that pulls away.
each coming day
is a step thru
and towards
the next micro agony.
every man
can be broken,
just as there are women
incapable of love,
and even the most magnificent
songbirds are soluble.
take it intravenously
or not at all.
we are crescents,
rarely whole.
nothing more.
nothing less.

bang, bang, bang

keep yer finger off
the trigger and do not slide
toward precious vantage.
search my pockets on
the pat down. question
this dominion outfacing
the wants and needs
from within.
you must spin
like cylinders; clockwise.
emote as ceiling fans in motion:
separate in 5's or 3's,
whirling spherical
gift shop quaintness.
there are strange seconds
over flowing in the microwave oven.
admitting defeat last night
smelled like my shirt
after a pack and a half of Basic's.
i suppose hugging knees is suitable
for such a stand still life in the freezer
whose underbelly glows frigid
from the bulb below.
that handful of bullets
i threw in the dryer
are patiently waiting
on yer first, "I love you."
no, i didn't find a single coin
in the return slot of that payphone
next to the car wash.
some people have all the
face up pennies at their feet
and some plainclothesmen's
radios invoke the others,
as they come crackling through
in broken frequencies of,
"possible suicide".
god bless them.

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