postcard

*****

dear eye, 

i rode a love letter last week.  on it, two people were questioning the motivation behind energy. one of them jumped up and fell asleep and the other rolled over and woke up. in the midst of their emotional roller coaster they both agreed that love was a fish tank, that bubbles were entire worlds filled with air, and that you couldn't see the earth when you're counting the rotations of other planets.  their main point of contention was breath, was it in, was it out, was it the momentary point between?  for me, there is no separation. the earth the root, the root the stem, the stem the flower, the flower, the bee, the sweet fragrance, the ambrosial taste of honey.


your whispering wind of a friend,


voice 



***** 




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