13.Dec.2003

i feel so beautiful

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6:45 in the morning

Gratified in the most intense manner. Cinnamon-sprinkled, vanilla extract-touched cocoa. A Robert Frost poem unfurling directly outside of this window, dark and clear. Familial completion. I'm an unabashed romantic all the way into my swooned and smothered cell nuclei. Constructing wordless sonnets to the orange-snow horizons. The ambient symphony of elation.

And to Becky, I say, Blood indeed.
And to Jason, I say, I am forever bound to you in music.
And to Jubal, I say, I am in love with everything.

There exist no words in the whole of every universe to illustrate exactly how this feels, the unequivocal stimuli of resolution.

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I would publish how yesterday commenced in soft, lurid detail, but I want it to be mine and my loves alone.

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And if you can name the Robert Frost poem of which I'm thinking, I promise I'll send you a photograph of my blatant rib-cage, with claw-marks embedded deeply and hotly over its ridges.

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time & machine