In That Moment

By Jamnik

the resolution

there's a lot that i don't know
there's a lot that i'm still learning
but i think i'm letting go
to find my body, it's still burning


-jack's mannequin



[toward accuracy]


we're high enough that what I call fog might be cloud.
not Everest high, or Chomolungma, "Mother Goddess of the World." if we named things what they are, our sentences would be monsoons, long rains of sound.
morning is "the time I suspect I am a horse," dusk "the light which treats our shadows like taffy."
the number of times my name changes in a day,
from "looking at the world with eyes of wood rasps"
to "feathers have replaced my bones," rules out
the wearing of name tags: i wear a chalk board,
thesaurus, that book of whispers, of meaning sex.
"there's a woman who smokes a cigarette now and then, who picks tobacco off her tongue
as something moves along the fault line
of the horizon, knees pulled to her chest,
her breath wearing a dress of smoke"
is one way i think of your when i think of you.
and when i think of you, "wants to be a candle" isn't romantic but accurate, wicked light
leans in, away, writhes to get out of, to leap harder into what it is.


-bob hicok




quite possibly one of my favorite pieces of written work, ever.
here's to getting over it and moving on, dancing forward into the year ahead.

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