The bestest kind of poetry

I just finished reading a short and infinitely sweet collection of poetry called Interrobang, written by a woman I've come to know a wee bit in the magical world of internet: Jessica Piazza.

Jessica is smarter than you, me and your bestie put together. At least she's got a ton of higher education which, in some people, isn't saying much. But Jessica has all kinds of smarts, all the smarts, actually, not to mention she's young and she's sassy and she's spirited like I used to be back when I didn't fart when I coughed, and my knees didn't howl after a trip through Walmart like the bellowing hounds of hell.

Interrobang is the sweetest kind of poetry, the blue denim kind, the real kind. The kind you'd see Springsteen writing, the slow easy kind that is rife with humanity and insights and what's going on in the deeper parts of that thing we call a soul. This isn't snooty poetry. This is fresh and easy to read; even easier to savour. I have spent the last couple nights with it, enjoying each poem like I'd let the world's best ice cream melt on my tongue, and I recommend it, highly, to anyone whose heart yearns for truth and wonder.