The Stars | Zack Kopp

Image: Zoltan Tasi

The Stars

The cold stars clicking their claws together like crabs in a tank. History changes and runs off the page like butter. The world has been dragged through me, and I’ve been dragged through the world. We’re even. Stars twirl over stinking trenches, beginning a subtle magnetic resurrection that will take all time and never end. The mind is a machine to move matter. The scenes are super modern. The earth has us, and we multiply. Founded in an impulse of wild lonely need, not serious planning. The stars dissolve in my mouth not my hand. Let this life not be a torment. Let the stars stop shaking. Please, God. I will turn my greatest tricks for you.

Zack Kopp is a freelance writer, editor, photographer, graphic artist, and literary agent currently living in Denver, Colorado. His informal history of the Beat Generation’s connections with Denver was published by The History Press in 2015. Kopp’s books are available at Amazon, and you can find his blog at the website for his indie hybrid press at www.campelasticity.com featuring interviews and articles and links to other websites. His improvised novel, Public Hair, was described by one critic as “simultaneously the best and worst book ever.” The latest chapter of Kopp’s “fantastic biography” (Cf. Billy Childish), Henry Crank’s History of Wonders is expected in 2022.

Pots & Pans | Zack Kopp

Image: Alexander London

Pots & Pans

The nt. is cold & flesh is sold   in galleries just down the road

       Long spaces of silence are speech   & the stars are knives 

      that stab @ your eyes

You stumble home past churches & brick shit-houses  

  all the pots & pans hating the buildings they live in

        All the houses are heads   & the windows are eyes

                 each house has a different haircut

       @ home, 

this is goddam 

serious business, lazy

electric red lilies asleep in the window, your eyes

playing tennis w/ stars & light 

       in a glass frying pan

               all nt.

Other times it’s a joyride,

                        exhaust pipes flashing in the sunset—zoom—

You get there. You have dreams. You love someone.

The only certainty infection w/ illusion. Some people are there. You 

try to make plans. It breaks down. You keep going. It hurts.

There are books, statues. It breaks down again. You keep going.

You’re the only one there. You’re the only thing real.

A storm of light on the plane of time. 

Zack Kopp is a freelance writer, editor, photographer, graphic artist, and literary agent currently living in Denver, Colorado. His informal history of the Beat Generation’s connections with Denver was published by The History Press in 2015. Kopp’s books are available at Amazon, and you can find his blog at the website for his indie hybrid press at www.campelasticity.com featuring interviews and articles and links to other websites. His improvised novel, Public Hair, was described by one critic as “simultaneously the best and worst book ever.” The latest chapter of Kopp’s “fantastic biography” (Cf. Billy Childish), Henry Crank’s History of Wonders is expected in 2022.


This poem is from South Broadway Press’ new anthology, 
Dwell: Poems About Home. Purchase here.