2003-02-19 12:10 p.m.
Simple poem, comments on the weather

I wrote a little poem for Steve to wake up to. I put it on his head so he'll be sure to see it upon gaining consciousness.

"At Peace In the World"

(for my Steve)

OR

in answer to my favorite W.S. poem Sunday Morning,

Wednesday Afternoon

The landlady's on the roof

shoveling the snow off

Oh, wouldn't it be funny

if the ceiling caved in

And still

we'd sleep

locked in the dream place

of each other's

true love embrace.

In other news, today it has reached 32 degrees for the first time in weeks. I am torn on the cold weather/snow thing.

On the one hand, the beauty of snowy roads in the moonlight is undoubtedly essential to the mind of any artist. I couldn't feel alive without it. The hush, also, that falls over a snowy winter landscape, is a necessary auditory experience. Catching snowflakes on my tongue, the violent wind, the exhibition of nature's power at its strongest. All vital to my particular poetry of being, feeling "alive".

But what a fucking bitch it is to get around in it!

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