snowing.


winter, convinced it's alone now, lets out a sigh. reaches out and pulls the world into its embrace. i am thrilled, multiplied, diminished, amplified. it has been the season of sarah mclachlan, of scented flannel, of small lights and regrets.

but this is the first time i've looked out the window of my home - in all its iterations - and seen snow. the patio furniture, the van, the grass, the road, the most ambitious branches, and the roofs - all covered with a thin veil of white. sifting powdered spirits all over my neighborhood so i can feel like a poet. another mystery from the stratosphere, and a god descended, shaking out its coat. it happens every day, after all. last night, i had no right to be calling the moon.. and now it sprinkles down even when we think it's gone. in seasonless los angeles, we learned the sea, and every avenue was spring street. but here, so far north - o canada girls, do you miss the green world when the snow falls?

i'm done festering on the timeless los angeles soundstage. i live in a mortal city, where both the christians and the pagans recognize february from july.