2001-02-14 || 2:37 pm

|| february. ||

inspiration inspiration inspiration is blowing in and out of me, making my heart sound like a pipe organ.

it's whistling. can you hear it?

and it is sweet tasting. a snowflake that falls on your lip and you absentmindedly lick it away and are surprised. by how perfect it is. and fleeting.

i get this outlook sometimes, these funny goggles that filter the life and beauty and breath of everything, and i almost want to shut my eyes because it is too bright. makes my heart hurt too much. whistle too loudly.

i want to be seated on your living room floor surrounded by paper. or on the hill in the cemetery. on the curb in front of the yogurt shop wrapped in a scarf, deflecting your protests that it is february and too cold. but there are leaves drifting like paper boats down the gutters, and february colors caught in the sagebrush of the hills, and the cracking of voices in the air that doesn't happen at any other time of the year. this is no time to sit still.

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