j o h n . p o p e

First Paragraphs

If Childhood had a scent, one would be of paper

with ink, words, & paragraphs like

Matryoshkan dolls in a

Universe of spines aligning

billions of books betrothed to

cherry wood shelves, and

blue berry carpeting, and

chairs,

all the same,

with, like, ooh!

cubic cushions, flat legs, for scooting, aah…. Childhood me olympiaded aisles.

He glanced upon pictures, or

only First Paragraphs, or

front covers - bore

smuggling Pokémon video games and thieving shelter, eyes wide shut in rough translations,

digital soundscapes,

digital satiation,

digital signs

reading

Borders Out Of Business.

How could I’ve known? That in a

childlike distraction I'd remain,

glued at 1 2 : 0 0 a.m.,

despite that which would shut my eyes, and

wake me up, is, was, and always will be

Something like the smell of First Paragraphs.

Libraric theft's illegal yet their perfume is for granted.

Palms & Veins

Easier t'write a poem

Than compose a song

For poems are by blood

By line upon my palm

A poet I wish not

To be, and not to be

A stickler for my art

Will be the death of me

So let me write my poems

Then toss 'em all a-flame

For creatives all alike

Resent their palms & veins

i see not through the

Opaqueness of my skin, but

through the pupils of my

Eyes, which rest, in fact,

in skin holes on my face:

Face, which i didn't ask for, btw...

Old Pens

New Skin

We found solace in poems -

Black ink in a plastic tube that

Held your thoughts tighter than

The circumference of the pipes in

Our house that we improved upon

Which contained memories that,

Thick, like oily, viscous blood

Pumping through our pipes,

And turning heart gears,

Became stale and

Eventually ran

Out of

Ink.

We held hands at the very beginning.

Remember that?

I haven't written a poem in a long time.

I haven't held a hand in a long, long time.

When I wear a jacket

I feel cold

because

the warmth came from

the seams.

Yes, the seams,

which held us together.

Thin, tight, fragile, frivolously bound by co-dependent, strings-attached,

And all all love.

Now when I wear a jacket,

I feel chills

because

I've cut myself free from

the seams.

Sans seams, my body learns

to retain its own heat:

Something I can't do with you wrapped around my skin so tightly,

And so so warm...

"A Friendly Face"

looks like

an unexpected birthday party,

or a

Venmo deposit when you never asked,

or a

hug you didn't know

you needed

on a

day

that,

otherwise,

would've balled-up

and thrown itself in the can.

Oh,

a friendly face lets you cry.

3- Step Love Story

First, the feeling:

Foamy, bubbly, brilliant nausea

And makes you think,

"Ah, That person I could fall asleep

squeezing them so hard our dreams fuse."

Second, waking up:

Smiling, alone, pillowy light

And then you realize,

"Ah, I adore awaking in the privacy of linens,

bedsheets, books & bedroom door."

Third, the epiphany:

Therapeutic, stretching, over breakfast

It all makes sense,

"Ah, fuck, how could I imagine

dreaming with That person without knowing

how they yell & shout."