"The Kid" I highly recommend it.

Someday (1/29/07)

It will happen to me someday.

I’ll storm a castle that’s far away.

My horse, of course, my trusty steed

Will be the only help that I will need.

A thousand guards will stand in my way,

But that won’t stop me from saving the day.

I’ve never picked up a sword in my life,

The closest I’ve held is the kitchen knife.

        But I’m a swashbuckler… they just know!

They never touch me, not even a graze

Leaving me time for a witty phrase.

I fight to the base of a tower of white

That stretches above me and up out of sight.

Then I will fly, so high, you see.

UP like a bird…absurd? Maybe.

To the top of the tower a blur am I,

Raising the sword in my hand to the sky.

I’d leave it at that, but a factor still blares:

I have to fly ‘cause there aren’t any stairs.

Inside of the tower there is a door.

And I must mention ten guards on the floor.

I took them all with one hand at my back.

I just thought that I’d cut them some slack.

            It didn’t help.

I open the door with a well-placed foot.

I borrowed it from the guard that went kaput.

The princess before me is, well, my dream.

She doesn’t so much as glow, but gleam.

The princess convinces me that she is real

So I’d get up from the floor where I kneel.

She doesn’t know that my legs gave out.

“I’ve loved you forever,” I can’t help but shout.

If it doesn’t seem true, so you will know

My waiting for her has been long and been slow.

When I began to question if speaking was wrong,

She opened her mouth and said, “What took you so long?”

The love of my life, my wife, will be

Truly mine and forever more. 

Standing with me on my side of the door.

I didn't write this. I love it.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Pablo Neruda

From 100 Love Sonnets

XC

I thought I was dying, I felt the cold up close

And knew that from all my life I left only you behind:

My earthly day and night were your mouth,

Your skin the republic my kisses founded.

In that instant the books stopped,

And friendship, treasures restlessly amassed,

The transparent house that you and I built:

Everything dropped away, except your eyes.

Because while life harasses us, love is

Only a wave taller than the other waves:

But oh, when death comes knocking at the gate,

There is only your glance against so much emptiness,

Only your light against extinction,

Only your love to shut out the shadows.

II.

You are like my farthest memories;

something I could scarcely grasp or comprehend.

You are a place of darkness, a shapeless void

that sets me adrift.

There is nothing to orient me,

no ground beneath my feet,

no wind to stir the air.

I bring with me a lamp to throw shadows

over the contours of your soul.

The light lends definition so I know where to put my feet.

I walk freely and without fear.

I pause and hold up the lamp to a memory

or a cluster of emotions.

Then, I move on, sometimes understanding,

sometimes not.

When I am tired I set down my lamp

and in one of these shadows I lay down.

I draw over me a blanket made from strands of thought and emotion.

My head rests on a pillow of memories.

IV.

I am finished for now with words.

What can I say to you now

That I haven’t already?

No more letters,

No more conversations.

Walk with me.

Let’s climb your favorite tree.

Spread a blanket on a hill

To watch clouds amble by.

One is a turtle.

Another is a castle.

What would it be like to fly?

Take my hand when the clouds build

And paint the sky with shadows.

Let your laughter dance between the hills

As we race each other to the shelter of your tree.

We are safe under the broad branches of your tree.

The only sound is the rain and the beating of our hearts

That seems to slow and fill our ears.

Turn and look at me, withholding nothing from your stare.

Your dark eyes look into me, almost enveloping me.

I reach out to brush the wet hair out of your eyes.

When my fingers brush your cheek,

Lightning travels from them and explodes in your heart.

Lean to me.

Close your eyes.

Let your mind race and your heart seem to cease beating.

A gentle pressure,

A brush of the lips

Soft and tender.

Simple.

It is like resting.

Drowsy eyes close

Making night complete

As the head presses gently into the pillow.

Just for a moment, you know who I am,

What I think, what I feel.

The rain hangs suspended and motionless,

But you have walked the paths of my soul

Through a Gate opened only by a kiss.

(June 5, 2007)

Nate: I got a ticket for my bike.

Grady: What?

Nate: Well, not a ticket… a “warning”.

Owen: A warning.

Nate: Pretty much a ticket.

Grady: What for?

Nate: Where I locked it up.

Grady: Where?

Nate: On a rail.

Grady: Everyone does that.

Nate: I KNOW!

Owen: Was it in front of maple?

Nate: Yeah. There was no other place to put it!

Grady: Maybe if you had put it in the stairwell, but not a rail.

Nate: And it gets better… the guy threatened to impound my bike.

(explosion of laughter)

Grady: That was amazing.

Owen: How are they going to impound your bike?

Nate: I don’t know. Maybe he could take my front wheel.

Grady: So he’d break the lock so he could impound your bike.

Owen: That’s property destruction.

Nate: Yeah!

Grady: Is your bike registered?

Nate: No.

Grady: Then they can’t trace you.

Nate: I know.

Grady: You should leave a note… “Do your worst!”

stoic