we learn at the last to look at our brothers as aliens. alien men with whom we share a city, but not a community. men bound to us in common dwelling, but not in a common effort. we learn to share only a common fear, only a common desire to retreat from each other, only a common impulse to meet disagreement with force. our lives on this planet are too short, the work to be done is too great.

but we can perhaps remember, if only for a time, that those who live with us are our brothers, that they share with us the same short moment of life; that they seek, as we do, nothing but the chance to live out their lives in purpose and in happiness, winning what satisfaction and fulfillment they can.

- robert f. kennedy

bright eyes - bowl of oranges

you’ve lost your way.
right was not right but neither was left.

broken bells - “the high road”

(thanks for the photo, mary)

maybe some trees aren’t meant to stay rooted. or, better yet, maybe some roots are meant to reach across infinite boundaries, connected by their kindred spirits.

like the aspen tree.

perhaps i’m an aspen tree; connected, but not rooted.

faded paper figures - north by north

fanfarlo - i’m a pilot

…the hamster stands in the shower
the hamster’s upturned paw has a small dab of shampoo on it
this will not be enough shampoo
the hamster feels sarcastic
the hamster’s body and cheeks are warm
from the sunlight through the window
and the hamster is very afraid
it feels so sad so early in the day

- tao lin, “hamsters are heads with little characteristics on the head, part two” (from cognitive-behavioral therapy)

El Perro Del Mar - Change of Heart

I performed surgery on your heart, at night while you slept. I worked slowly so as not to wake you - a slow initial incision across your chest, and then a carefully, quiet sawing down through the layers of bone and tissue.

At one point, as I clamped off your arteries, you began to stir. I panicked and realized I should have thought of an excuse, some explanation that would have made sense if you woke and found me with my hands inside your chest. But I held my breath and waited and you slowly settled back down. If I had to explain it would be too late for surgery, anyway.

Once I’d removed your heart I sat in bed all night, alone, getting it exactly the way I wanted it. As soon as you opened your eyes I’d be able to tell if the surgery had worked or not. I put your heart back into your chest, sewed you up and laid down next to you, waiting for the sun to begin streaming through the windows.

- Kevin Fanning, “How I Cured Your Heart” (from How I Learned to Love You From So Far Away)

Ray LaMontagne - I Still Care For You

Sometimes, compromising means everyone loses.

Pants Yell! - Cold Hands

one. two. three…
you run.

four. five. six…
you hide.

seven. eight. nine…
you wait.
you think.
and the dark gets darker.
and the silence engulfs you.
and no one has found you.
no one is coming.

ten.
then the doors open up.
and the light pours in.
your heart races. your smile breaks.
and a hand reaches out and pulls you back up.
up to reality.

up where we belong.

blitzen trapper - furr

this isn’t a secret. I merely failed to mention it. I meant to tell you. I mean to tell you. there’s only a dozen reasons keeping me silent. they cause my throat to swell, my tongue to clasp the roof of my mouth, and my lips to clamp. during our pauses in conversation, my glottis flutters. I try. I tried.

rilo kiley - “the good that won’t come out”

this is over, but telling you means it’s the end.

play me a song.
sing it to me.
tell me what it means to you.

write me a letter.
read it to me.
fill it with words that paint pictures.

tell me a story.
enact every part.
scream and cry and laugh as though you were the very character you portray.

love me. sit with me. share with me.
relax. smile. breathe.

this is life.

this is life. and we must live it.

gregory alan isakov - that moon song

i don’t need these words.

i don’t need to say it.

i don’t need their words, either. they need not say a thing.

sometimes, one look can say it all. sometimes, their open arms can do all the talking.

“we’ve missed you,” they cry.

“welcome back,” they say.

“welcome home.”

nickel creek - leaves fall