Poetry of Love, Resistance, & Solidarity

speaking of longing my knuckles hurt
the wheat is verdant now heading soon
it is time the storm is coming I can smell it
I can hear the rumble of Longfellow’s lost youth
the aching of the cottonwood for lightning

Dad loved days like this let’s go fishing
distracted by all youngsters bursting swirling
Wet knees wiping dirt from the morrels
Looking down the rows of new corn bent
The storm cannon is just warming up.

— William Karnowski

Comments on: "59. To the Stars Through Difficulty: William Karnowski" (1)

  1. Patricia Traxler said:


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