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

Driving

under drying skies, north,
passing fields
the summer has been too wet
to turn brown,
i wait for God
to appear, for poems to rise
like mists, for some sort
of ever

that doesn’t sting.
croon to me like a wild road,
sunlight spider-webbing
across a cracked windshield
across strange arms
across a morning we can all afford
to spend and live
and live.

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8 responses

  1. Ron

    Exquisitely delicate! I could live in joy forever with one who writes like this………..uh…..do you cook?! 🙂

    August 11, 2015 at 9:43 am

    • lol not at all! 🙂

      August 11, 2015 at 1:35 pm

  2. Beautiful Joanna and thoughtful- as ever!
    Warm wishes,
    Nicky

    August 14, 2015 at 3:13 am

    • Thanks, Nicky! Really wish I could be there with you guys next month– thanks for the updates on all the excitement!

      August 18, 2015 at 8:19 am

  3. This was wonderful …

    “i wait for God
    to appear, for poems to rise
    like mists, for some sort
    of ever

    that doesn’t sting.”

    Mosk

    August 17, 2015 at 7:44 pm

    • Thanks, friend Mosk! Where are you writing these days? I cannot seem to find the link to the right site.

      August 18, 2015 at 8:20 am

      • I should still be at ihatepoetry.blogspot.com. No?

        August 18, 2015 at 11:48 am

        • that’s it. i get confused every time as your gravatar takes me to the WordPress site that you were using in 2013. thanks!

          August 18, 2015 at 12:03 pm

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