Some nights I dream I
can still cry
as much as I want to,
thumbprints on a windshield
automatically bladed away.
My veins are a vacuum
of impermanence, the
sharp shiver of a dreaming
eyelid. Let’s talk as sapphire
as possible. The accustomed-
to-being-unencumbered
incumbents watch
for how much knowledge
is threat, information
staring precariously
from the ledge on
which knowing
resides, that which you clutch
between your vocal
cords, that respiratory buffer
between thought and actuality.
Jacob Minasian π
Voice
Author Reading
About the Author
Jacob Minasian received his MFA from Saint Mary’s College of California, where he was the 2016 Academy of American Poets prize-winner. He is the author of the poetry collection, Vestiges (2023), and the chapbook, American Lit (2020), both from Finishing Line Press, and his work has appeared in publications including Poets.org, The Museum of Americana, RipRap Literary Journal, Lucky Jefferson, Windows Facing Windows Review, CP Quarterly, Sledgehammer Lit, and Fire and Rain: Ecopoetry of California (Scarlett Tanager Books), among others, and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Originally from California, he currently lives with his wife and daughter in Cincinnati, Ohio.