because while some truths lend themselves to equations, others are best described in verse

epitaph for the soulless

there are

wide-eyed whiskey
truths that trace
velocities, backward. this

was never about you,
the unfrozen intensity
of a moment stretched

into a night, a pair
of nights, sub-
aqueous drownings

in a river that knows too
many mornings,
inconstancy of under-

current winter
horizons & jagged
edges below the smooth

dark of summer waters;; an
itch inside my skin i
bury deeper with each

rasping handful of you
and that the sunlight won’t re-
wind; this,

this was never about you ex-
cept that it is.

16 responses

  1. There is wonderful depth to this piece. Great portrait of resistance.

    February 28, 2012 at 1:03 am

    • thanks, Carl. 🙂

      February 28, 2012 at 11:09 am

  2. Amy

    Wow. This is one of the best poems I’ve read in a long time. Nicely done , beautifully said.

    February 28, 2012 at 3:32 am

    • aww, wow, Amy; you’re too kind! appreciate your stopping by. 🙂

      February 28, 2012 at 11:10 am

  3. Reblogged this on Exposed and commented:
    Cancel my like–I love this.

    February 28, 2012 at 6:55 am

    • 😉 Thanks for the shout-out, Shea!

      February 28, 2012 at 11:10 am

  4. in a river that knows too
    many mornings,

    I think mournings works here too

    February 28, 2012 at 9:41 am

    • Carl, i thought about that too, about doing my old trick with the “mo(u)rning” to give the double meaning, but decided against it for some reason. not really sure why– maybe subconsciously afraid to give it too much of a funereal feel?

      February 28, 2012 at 11:12 am

  5. Really liked this, especially how you shift from abstractions in nature to your personal skin. Well done indeed.

    February 28, 2012 at 2:29 pm

  6. Great poem. The gut sense of things put in words: rasping handful of you. Excellent.

    February 28, 2012 at 5:50 pm

  7. nice…great joanna….this was never about you but it was…and all the grit in between…some really sweet lines in there as well….felt piece…

    February 28, 2012 at 11:18 pm

  8. Two things I especially like about this one are how it’s written in the form of an address and how you’ve used enjambment to “drag” us through the poem.

    February 29, 2012 at 12:23 am

  9. Beautiful movement here, Joanna. Space for each well-chosen word to be felt before being drawn into the current. Wonderful.

    February 29, 2012 at 1:20 am

  10. Nice… Love the ending 🙂

    February 29, 2012 at 10:45 pm

  11. twisty and mystery – love it!

    February 29, 2012 at 11:33 pm

  12. Now, there is always the chance that I mistook magic for the swirling addictive nature of hard core self-punishment, but reading through 5 or 6 of your latest, I completely freaked out about this. Holy fuck can you write or can you write? Now, I’m pretty sure you wove this one tighter than a new spring fresh from the factory but again; holy shit this is magic in a pill… er, I mean poem. I so love the desperation inherent in the moment that plays out against the narrative.

    (15 minutes & 10 feet closer to insanity)

    & It stands up to the re-reading test. I’m pretty convinced this poem is worthy of a gold star. Great fucking job my friend.


    March 14, 2012 at 2:08 am


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