Here is a piece of a second during which a jet is not flying nor is it on the ground

I've been a fan of Bob Hicok for a long time. Ever since I stumbled across his poem "Other Lives and Dimensions and Finally a Love Poem." And I've followed him throughout my growth as a writer. I love many of his poems. Hell, I love many poems for so many different reasons. But lately, the poetry i've been studying and reading has been the kind of poetry that raises a mental desire in me. Meaning, something happens in the poem that pleases my mind, not my heart. Whether it be something intellectual, something enigmatic, something illogical. Think Carson. Think Hejinian. Think Stein. I've been swimming in their work. But recently, I stumbled across Bob Hicok's poem "Her my body." It was the first time in a long time, a poem has done something to me both mentally and emotionally, simultaneously. This poem is a snake, wrapped around my mind and, at the same time, squeezing the hell out of my heart.

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=179252