15
the optics of my fiber
laying in a field of tall grass
with dandelions licking my back.
an eye to the sky
allowing for patterns in clouds
to take on familiar shapes.
a subjectively imperfect process.
I see interspecies coitus;
entertaining.
procreating.
choo choo trains
not so familiar.
squirrel takes fish,
fish blows deer,
deer being cooked
by the sun
then cum's more clouds
and the steam from my mouth
spews bricks to build walls
like winter in my arteries.
the what: necessary blood transfusion?
the maybe: hemophiliac?
muscles as tight as
an accountants asshole.
but my heart burns,
a hot humble smoldering,
no heavy thump.
weakened palpitations.
sure of two things:
backward binoculars speak facts
about how everything truly is;
distant.
and there's comfort in knowing
that forest's thrive
without heartbeats.
Zachari James Popour is just like you, him, her, them; both the best and worst person in the world.
