Look, I am doing something new — not that I am though. All the same

there’s something to be said for resolutions.

That something being don’t.

With that qualification at hand, I so resolve:

Not to practice reduction.

To rather practice expansion.

To rather practice accuracy of sense and experience.

We cannot be enumerated with enough ease to justify the invalidation invoked

By the act.

Nor is there a fraction of our body that can be simplified from unquantified chaos.

Simplification would suggest rationality.

We aren’t rational. Careful though.

I didn’t say we were irrational either.

Binaries be damned, I will not apply mathematics or logical fallacies to my form or yours.

Either of them, that is.

As I said, I will practice expansion.

If I repeat it often enough, it will become spiritual.

A consistent prayer, intoned before a mirror to observe the flap of my lips.

Well, ostensibly mine.

Practically yours.

Though that’s the entirety of the confession you’ll get from me.

Now, please don’t confuse envy with arousal, because they’re both there, and maybe distinct.

At least, I’d like to think they are.

I won’t imagine your response to that.

I won’t rob you of agency in such an intentional way, however guilty I am of it unconsciously.

I can only envision the situation, not orchestrate it.

What is thoroughly clear: the record, however precise, is not collapsible,

is resistant to summarization.

Summarily, the start is irrelevant.

Chris Cramer is a senior currently studying English at New Mexico State University.  When he isn't writing poetry, he enjoys overanalyzing media and trying to figure out how to play guitar (both pastimes which yield mixed results).  His work deals with themes of grief and severance, habits and complacency, sexuality, and body image.

​

​