general properties of stars
january and cotton-light weather for the peach blossoms in the front yard of the brick house on the cul-de-sac of such dizzying distances to cover in tennis shoes and big breaths and laughs. winter is somewhere safe and sleeping and the new year is layers and layers of pictures of faces and 10 to the 40th meters of space and stars and galaxies that keep coming into focus inside of you and whole atmospheres and exospeheres of sadness, and love that doesn't feel at all like sadness in disguise. school has lapsed back into the consortium of my days bearing old brick buildings with ivy skins and cool walks to campus from the sette and shuffle of this worn-in house where i abandon homework with the window wide open. sometimes all this hopelessness is like the meat department at central market, just something you have to hold your breath and walk through even when all you want to do is turn around and leave, but writing feels like one way to get past crashing my heart on the rocks of nostalgia. riding bicyles in green nieghborhoods and walking down streets under streetlamps and spanish moss twilight and just being with the people whose hearts your own ties tightropes to are other ways to accomplish calming down.