Jesse Miksic
I saw it, the mark upon the world
In the negative space of a
Waking dream of panic — these, rendered
Once and only, the channels limning
The imponderable concept at the
Hollow dissolving subfloor of every
Intuition you or I have ever had.
I was not searching, I made no plea
And couldn’t tell you why it chose me
To make itself exposed, even for the
Span of a closed eye’s blink
There it was, though, diagrammed
In striated numerology, a coursing
Inevitability of stroke and symmetry,
Lines weighted to drag the fancies
Back to our attention — this was
Most certainly the imprint, the brand
Wherefrom all identities have spawned
In its vectors, it says your
Fixation, it says a manifold of sin
And something cruel and tender,
It’s the stamp of the actual upon
The entry papers, the note of promise,
The depthless document of our confession
It’s a seal of approval, a crest to
Validate every dispensation that has
Made your life the long misunderstood
Word it has become, I saw this,
The root gestalt, the unimpeachable
Alignment of the focal points, and
Now I know that sleep is a closed hearing,
A studio, and an incinerator for just
This very sort of revelation — one look
Was too many, and now I plan to
Stay here, filled and fractured, in the
Archival stillness between the world
And the world, between the sea and sleep.
***
Jesse Miksic is a graphic designer and writer living in Peekskill, New York. He spends his life writing poetry, nursing unfinished projects, and having adventures with his wonderful wife and daughter. Recent and forthcoming placements include Heron Tree, Drunk Monkeys, Liminality, Praxis Magazine Online, and others.