You’ll see.

In my dreams, I’ll catch you.
Into my arms I’ll catch you.
Do you mind if I’ll always love you.

Heaven’s Gonna Burn Your Eyes
Thievery Corporation

There is no end to things in the heart.

There is no end to things in the heart. Somebody once told me that. She said it came from a poem she believed in. She understood it to mean that if you took something to heart, really brought it inside those red velvet folds, then it would always be there for you. No matter what happened, it would be there waiting. She said this could mean a person, a place, a dream. A mission. Anything sacred. She told me that it is all connected in those secret folds. Always. It is part of the same and will always be there, carrying the same beat as your heart.

Lost Light [excerpt]
Michael Connelly

it's just an honor to be nominated

I don't play hard to get. I am hard to get.

-Rabbit

Observe...Notice..Catch

Observe what’s vivid.
Notice what you notice.
Catch yourself thinking.

Cosmopolitan Greetings [excerpt]
Allen Ginsberg

difficult because of its simplicity

Fate loves to invent designs and patterns. Its difficulty lies in complexity. But life itself is difficult because of its simplicity. It has just a few elements, of a grandeur we can never fathom.

Rainer Maria Rilke
The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge

in another city.

Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city.

-George Burns

I do not want

I do not want to
love you

I do not want to
save you

I do not want your arms
I do not want your
shoulders

I have me
you have you

let that
be.


A Division [excerpt]
Charles Bukowski

anything.

If we don’t show anyone, we’re free to write anything.

Cosmopolitan Greetings [excerpt]
Allen Ginsberg

maxim

Happiness is a choice.

borrowed from the girl at the bar

He lays beside her as she's sleeping...

She says, "I just might leave tomorrow."
He says, "Tomorrow never comes."
So we'll just learn to love our sorrow.
I'll love you tender as you're sleeping.
I'll love you bitter through the day.


Tomorrow Never Comes
Big Head Todd and the Monsters

not one lasts.

I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.

Autumn Movement [excerpt]
Carl Sandburg

I will catch you

If you're lost you can look
and you will find me - time after time.

If you fall I will catch you
I'll be waiting - time after time.

Time After Time [excerpt]
Cyndi Lauper

they are experiences.

Ah, but poems amount to so little when you write them too early in your life. You ought to wait and gather sense and sweetness for a whole lifetime, and a long one if possible, and then, at the very end, you might perhaps be able to write ten good lines. For poems are not, as people think, simply emotions - they are experiences. For the sake of a single poem, you must see many cities, many people and Things, you must understand animals, must feel how birds fly, and know the gesture which small flowers make when they open in the morning.


Rainer Maria Rilke
The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge

marvelous error!

Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.

Last Night As I Was Sleeping
Antonio Machado

The Weary Blues

Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.
He played a few chords then he sang some more--

"I got the Weary Blues
And I can't be satisfied.
Got the Weary Blues
And can't be satisfied--
I ain't happy no mo'
And I wish that I had died."

And far into the night he crooned that tune.
The stars went out and so did the moon.
The singer stopped playing and went to bed
While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.
He slept like a rock or a man that's dead.


The Weary Blues [excerpt]
Langston Hughes

posthumous NM post

A Missouri men's basketball game is a witch's brew of sweat, spit, stink and inbred rage spilling onto a basketball court, mixed together with a shocking lack of understanding of the game. Fat buck-toothed women scream hoarse obscenities and drunken men in drag hurl empty beer bottles. Missouri basketball makes a WWF tag-team match in Alabama look like a Mensa convention.

Norman Mailer
January 31, 1923 – November 10, 2007

your greatest love

For A&M, who marry today out of their greatest love... 
You marry out of your greatest love or your greatest fear.

bodies only tell the love.

Look, just as time isn't inside clocks
love isn't inside bodies:
bodies only tell the love.

On Some Other Planet You May Be Right [excerpt]
Yehuda Amichai

I Chop Some Parsley While Listening To Art Blakey's Version Of Three Blind Mice

And I start wondering how they came to be blind.
If it was congenital, they could be brothers and sister,
and I think of the poor mother
brooding over her sightless young triplets.

Or was it a common accident, all three caught
in a searing explosion, a firework perhaps?
If not,
if each came to his or her blindness separately,

how did they ever manage to find one another?
Would it not be difficult for a blind mouse
to locate even one fellow mouse with vision
let alone two other blind ones?

And how, in their tiny darkness,
could they possibly have run after a farmer's wife
or anyone else's wife for that matter?
Not to mention why.

Just so she could cut off their tails
with a carving knife, is the cynic's answer,
but the thought of them without eyes
and now without tails to trail through the moist grass

or slip around the corner of a baseboard
has the cynic who always lounges within me
up off his couch and at the window
trying to hide the rising softness that he feels.

By now I am on to dicing an onion
which might account for the wet stinging
in my own eyes, though Freddie Hubbard's
mournful trumpet on "Blue Moon,"

which happens to be the next cut,
cannot be said to be making matters any better.


I Chop Some Parsley While Listening To Art Blakey's Version Of Three Blind Mice
Billy Collins

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.


The Road Not Taken
Robert Frost

Death is a great teacher. It’s just too harsh.

I wish I could tell you that through the tragedy I mined some undiscovered, life-altering absolute that I could pass onto you. I didn’t. The clichés apply – people are what count, life is precious, materialism is overrated, the little things matter, live in the moment – and I can repeat them to you ad nauseam. You might listen, but you won’t internalize. Tragedy hammers it home. Tragedy etches it onto your soul. You might not be happier. But you will be better.

Tell No One
Harlen Coben

the road of excess

You'll never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.

William Blake

Just you and me

Look at me
Who am I supposed to be?
Who am I supposed to be?
Look at me
What am I supposed to be?
What am I supposed to be?
Look at me
Oh my love, oh my love

Here I am
What am I supposed to do?
What am I supposed to do?
Here I am
What can I do for you?
What can I do for you?
Here I am
Oh my love, oh my love
Look at me, oh please look at me, my love
Here I am - Oh my love

Who am I?
Nobody knows but me
Nobody knows but me
Who am I?
Nobody else can see
Just you and me
Who are we?
Oh my love, oh my love, oh my love


Look At Me
John Lennon

for R&L

It's you I like,
It's not the things you wear,
It's not the way you do your hair--
But it's you I like
The way you are right now,
The way down deep inside you--
Not the things that hide you,
Not your toys--
They're just beside you.

But it's you I like--
Every part of you,
Your skin, your eyes, your feelings
Whether old or new.
I hope that you'll remember
Even when you're feeling blue
That it's you I like,
It's you yourself,
It's you, it's you I like.

It's You I Like
Mr. Rogers