april 9 1/2

Mmm. The world drips warming shades of springtime and i smell strongly of grass clippings. This is a womb of sorts, this happiness that swells and grows like an unborn baby, soon to be thrust away into a world of ice. i am joyful, be my witnesses: i am blessed, blessed, blessed. (an old hymn flattens like an old balloon: i scratch i sing i tap my new tattoo.)