Friday, May 09, 2008

Zachari James Popour.

“dear molasses thick remembrance”

dear
molasses thick
remembrance,
glossy
and
supplement free in
your bathrobe.
i am comfortable
and
at ease
with blinders
narrowing
self severed periphery
and
shake-less hands
sketching the lonely
and
doomed
from the scaffolding
of regurgitated hope;
having snapped
off the spokes of
the forgetful.
it's best
to not look
down
as we resonate
on the wobble.


“call me old fashioned”

"can you believe the girls that are walking around these days?"
said the stranger in front of the urinal
next to mine.
i let out a cro-magnon grunt
stare forward
count tiles.
truth is
i have to.
they strut
their chins cut air
enough flesh on display to cause hard on's
and heartache.
bubbly
sucking blow pops
in thigh highs.
tight, buxom, shaved
an awkward shake
in their asses.
too young
too much too soon
my god,
these girls
could bring any man to their knees
take over countries
and make us beg
like dogs beneath a dinner table.
they know it
but so do I.
the stranger flushes
i give it a good shake
and follow suit.
he turns on the sink
and begins to wash his hands
and i walk out
with piss
on my shoes.

“fluctuation in routine currents”

the ambience?
temporary
like hotel rooms
and perfect
cuticles.

every color
has it's own
tone
and
each tone
rocks you
like a shot to the liver.

there's speculation
behind
and in front of
locked doors/
an easiness in symmetry
and 90° angles.

breezes pace
the emptiness,
particles of dust
scale the vortex.

i fill half a cup,
take a hit,
then level off
the divots
in time
with plaster
of paris,

and step outside
to tempt
the sun.