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 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.