oh, I'm still living at the old address
How do you feel? This is how I feel.
Good, yes, good. Fresh snow makes me feel clean and new. Walking home from the Market, full of tea and edamame and poetry, looking over the bridge to the ice floes below (colored peachy pink and lavender cream in the last slips of sunlight-- stretching and yawning across the creek like epic Arctic glaciers viewed from great heights).... all of this opens a latch inside. When I got home, I realized I had been gone for hours. Gemma called while I was stirring milk and honey into my cup way across the creek. We finally talked for the first time in a long time. We talked about mistakes made and dangerous spiders and all of the beautiful things we would cook for each other if we could be together. Burnt milk, custard tarts and carrots with caraway seeds. My phone died in mid-sentence, sadly. She's mailing me her diary, I'm mailing her Chinese poetry. Stretching across the great breadth of the country is a golden thread.
Listening to this song, mum said, "Amelia, his voice is as big as the Empire State building!" I smiled. She continued to stir the cake batter.
Good, yes, good. Fresh snow makes me feel clean and new. Walking home from the Market, full of tea and edamame and poetry, looking over the bridge to the ice floes below (colored peachy pink and lavender cream in the last slips of sunlight-- stretching and yawning across the creek like epic Arctic glaciers viewed from great heights).... all of this opens a latch inside. When I got home, I realized I had been gone for hours. Gemma called while I was stirring milk and honey into my cup way across the creek. We finally talked for the first time in a long time. We talked about mistakes made and dangerous spiders and all of the beautiful things we would cook for each other if we could be together. Burnt milk, custard tarts and carrots with caraway seeds. My phone died in mid-sentence, sadly. She's mailing me her diary, I'm mailing her Chinese poetry. Stretching across the great breadth of the country is a golden thread.
Listening to this song, mum said, "Amelia, his voice is as big as the Empire State building!" I smiled. She continued to stir the cake batter.