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The Long Hand Wishes It Was Used
Sometimes I wish I didn't think in words and that instead for each thought I thought I drew upon an image, and that I was able to organize each image in a linear way that would be like sort of like reading and that instead of trying to describe the edges around something I could just think the color around the edges of the image to be darker, that the detail on the image could become more or less detailed depending on how much clarity I believe I needed to disclose at the time For instance, instead of saying love, I could just think watermelon I could just think of a watermelon cut in half, lying open on a picnic table The inside would be just as moist as it was pink I could picture cutting up pieces and giving them out to my friends. It wouldn't have to be sunny It wouldn't have to be anything else then just that It would really simplify my walk home at night, where every thought I think is some contrived line I repeat over and over to myself Words are always just replaced with new ones The pictures would never need to know otherwise
Jackie Clark is the author of Aphoria (Brooklyn Arts Press, 2013). She is the recipient of a New Jersey State Council on the Arts Fellowship in Poetry. She lives in Jersey City, New Jersey.