Wednesday, February 28, 2007

fractals are our friends

as the night begins to undress, post exchange i follow suit
i follow you
when weary you'll take a lung's breath, to self sustain i follow suit
i follow you
in glimmering light on liquor blistered lips
in blistering light and liquor sweated skin

you're just a tramp in sheep's clothing
and i've been held far too long

as the lines blur (in a sense), would you finally tell me the truth?
it's always been you
if hindsight were a wage to be spent, would mine choke at you? i would, to you
i am the noose

you're just a tramp in sheep's clothing
and i've been held far too long
far too long

pour in phase now
i'll show you the world in flames
pour in phase now
i know now i'm not the one it's for
pour in phase now
shake off that sympathy, it's not yours anyhow
pour in phase now
take off that plasti-cold, -this-is-my-world-

washed away by the rain

you're just a tramp in sheep's clothing
washed away by the rain

the structure of language

how do i work this?
getting fed up
getting sped up
over that pang in our thorax
leaving entrails unsettled

shower crops with vacancy
for our cattle orbiting complacency
cut your venetian binds
remember our human design

I was there
I can account
she was 1000 earths
worth of dirt

let's bare his chest now, she said
he's on his belly writhing like a forming moon
i can see shackles in his eyes
we will free his curse tonight

i was there
I can account
she was 1000 earths
worth of hurt

I was there
I can account
out flew 1000 flies
and i don't believe anyone survived

twenty four years ago we stood on the frayed edges of infinity and we discussed possibility
You told me that there would be fear and confusion, and i accepted the challenge
You said there would be pain and terror, and i continued to split cells and form

together we created a finite dimension filled with myths and legends, destined to join the stream that we came from
we called them people, and we called their energy 'thought' and 'emotion', for our hearts to adore
we called their vessels 'bodies', and we made them beautiful, for our eyes to adore
we bound them to a rock and sent them hurtling through space, and i waved goodbye to You as i got on for the ride

the trees, twisting to Your hand, reaching for Your infinite love
even when the sky jadishly whispers "you can never touch Him"
still the rocks melt themselves and spew forth, praying to catch a glimpse of Your exceeding radiance
i have seen that the myths and legends have abandoned their energy,
and embraced their vessels, believing themselves to be creators of their shared dimension
except those humble few, strapped with courage and curiosity
the few brave enough to abandon their vessels and return to the stream
as i will, too. see You on the other side.

Saturday, February 24, 2007

We dance our days around each other, you and I
and we dance together sometimes
and at times when we dance, I feel your eyes in me
I notice these times and continue as we were
Then sometimes at night we dance again
a differente dance
after a few drinks were back to where we are almost every time
a drink or two more and you'll forget what you told me
a drink or two after that youll forget how you held me close
to you for those steps
and ill arrest my inclination to remind you in the morning

Because you know.

But youre scared to dance how you want to in the daytime
as long as we hadnt gone for lunch that day
When we dance at night your free of fear
and so am i.
I let it remain this way, because,
for now,
there will always be the next night
dancing to our music
and ill let you tell me again
i know its selfish, but i enjoy this dance at present
if its all the same, id like to ask you over for a movie tonight
but i continue

He's back

There was cheering and applause
Drinks spilled over
Laughter was on and around everyone
as he lifted his evidence bag
and exclaimed, "I'm back!"

the mood wrapped around us like a tropical storm
the street grabbed the rain to shush us
but the car kept screaming,"Lawyers, guns and money"
and somewhere in the contradiction
was a low
yearning to be a part of the pieces we've denied
and in the last private moment we had
before the telephone pole
it was glory and rapture
as we captured the pieces in smiles
and cigarettes
and bottle shots with sing along gargling
even as the glass shattered
and the steel buckled and popped
we were finally so free

A Drink or Two

I had a drink or two tonight
I wobbled a little
Adjusted my neck
Stretched my back out
And we got to talking
I had a drink or two tonight
And I realised everything that was wrong with you
So I told you
And then you cried
After I laughed for awhile
I had a drink or two tonight
I threw my glass against the wall
Almost got my ass kicked
I pressed my lips against his girlfriend
And said happy new year in March
I had a drink or two tonight
I strtd ta slurrr
I started to swear
But I made no promises


I wear this hat to hide the scabs in my scalp
From your dusty little soft shoe routine
that left me motionless

Forced to Grow

Scars where light burns your dark adapted flesh
Holes in the night
Grim times when love was a myth to you
Too dead to fight
Great hoops of the truth omitted
Left in the dust
A great machine to get things moving
And you're the rust
Grow! old man, grow into livelihood
Growing pains
Forced out of the dark with a tombstone
Into flowing rains
A hole punched in your soul and your pride is bruised
Now you're lost
Left alone in a loft on a window pane
Kiss the frost

Thursday, February 22, 2007


this ones called georgia
but i'm not kiddin anybody
its just another one
bout you
when you got in my mind
you became infinite
now i can't see autumn leaves
chew chocolate cake
without visions
of yr eyes

the dead at midnight

i recall
those holy sunday nights round here
when those kids that would be full blown heads
would huddle in garages
and upstairs bed rooms
in the glow of nothin but a radio
smokin their new love
and listenin to "the dead at midnight"
it was the only show
all week
on that random
AM radio station

and the thirty minute jam
in the middle of "love lights"
from some '72 show
maybe at the Spectrum
would cut through the lonely Manahawkin night
and they would all feel
somethin happenin

well kid
life's a winebottle
and that
distorted reflection
at the bottom
when all the romance
gets drained out
something like truth

miracles leaning on lamposts

miracles sippin kentucky bourbon
or cheap red wine
in parking lots
under parking lot lights
miracles lightnin quick fingerin electric guitars
in the flash and sway
of dirty clubs
on dirty nights
miracles peering through exhaled
cigarette smoke
in the reflection
of metal clad diners

miracles goin unseen

these are words
ivory tusked words
crafted from fiery tongues
carrying hard liquor burn
lookin like metal shimmerin back moonlight
tremblin grey whiskers
these are christs shimmerin unseen on crosses
these are words

god speed rabbit
and give america our love
while yer out wonderin through her
and let her know what it feels like
to have a jersey body pressed up against hers
and show her those holy dance moves
in dive bars, and rest stops, and corn fields
and let her hear those east coast words
cuttin haze with all the unknown sharpness
of the jersey edge

and while yer out there
chasin the sun west
let him know
there's nowhere kids
back here
that could catch him
if they only had enough fiery gas
in their bellies

and tell those Rockies
to stop hiding the american dream
in their long shadow
cuz she's starving and pale and
we got alms for her

god speed rabbit
and send us a postcard
from america

was winged
and propelled forward
by the WORDS
of the very GODS themselves

...yeah...lets be like that

and earlier
when he was still Hermes
and Greek
he carried wind blown Odysseus
all the way up
from that cliff face

...yeah...lets do that
...lets lift em all up

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

don't subject me to your rigerous labeling structure

skinned turned golden brown with setting sun and i'm protruding from the hips in such a way to catch her eye before she leaves and i follow to an end deserving of the name begin

twist mango and shoe lace together with the slow beat of a fist on oak around suppers good evening

is there any room for trust in a world where i can't promise my buttler won't rob my antiquities while i'm having my yaht dipped in gold

nipples are best left untwisted

come for the party stay for the burial trumpets at dawn wanna mombo topside babydoll, reckon the floor just right distance between your pants and my thought process

as to and fro i aim o let none but the one whom i've paid for the rub into the hollow bum bum bum bum.....bum bum bum bum....

A Toast to Inevitable Triumph

May we someday sit in the lushest of vales
Hidden from those who would shake us
And talk with tender pride and pleasure
Of the victories that have found us

bolts with the blues

Life is full
Of static cling
And little shocks
That manage somehow
To bring us to our knees

Thursday, February 15, 2007


just remember: when you see that star shining at its
brightest, its already been dead for a thousand years.

No need to miss a message. Get email on-the-go
with Yahoo! Mail for Mobile. Get started.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

the north side of the highway
black and white
and crystalline

bending beneath
translucent weight

Friday, February 09, 2007

But arn't we all?

I wasn’t made for math you see
I was made to be the mother of characters
I know because I animate their destinies
In my mind
While I drive
And it’s a goofy, raucous, joyful show
These lives I give them
And their movements match my mood
And the songs that stream from the radio

Well I guess I’m just a pop culture casualty
Made for dancing to the next big thing
‘Cause I don’t know shit about reality
I only know the songs We sing

And it’s this wacky way of life around me
That makes my mind a T.V. screen
The idea that life is just performance art
And every day can be Halloween
And when
I find
A slave
to tedium or routine
I feel belittled
Because don’t they know?

I could be their Queen!

But I guess I’m just a pop culture casualty
Just a girl with a hatters grin
Just some yahoo yellin’ whoopee
And laughing madly back

At that mad mad wind

Thursday, February 08, 2007

You and me and the widest of skies
And the most muddled of minds
In some joyous fit
Take to the world like we were made
Just for it
And it, for us, of course

So with every step a fantastic voyage
But every step a tumble too
We could find each other
In a place
Just me and just you
And a compass spinning
As compasses will do
When confronted with things of this nature

Oh! But you’re like the whopping crane
And I’m a kangaroo
And the world can only watch and wonder
What it is we’ll do
When confronted with each other
And let’s just let them marvel…
It’s what you’ve suspected all along
You were born to be a spectacle!

Because you’ve heard the wild winds a’ calling
We’ll I have heard them too
They told me that we were meant to meet
In a place like Timbuktu
And that is where
With a bottle of wine
I will wait for you

wasn't thinking of you

now that it's over we can begin
to be honest about the bullshit
and you can cry tears of joy and i'll wince with amusement
and we both can't dance across the hardwood intestines
with fabulous yellows and pearly white nothingness
how about we turn the television upside down and pant softly while the world explodes in an orgy of senseless violins
wouldn't you rob a liquior store to bring me a happy home
should we settle for purgory or is purging a better high
lets promise to never get committed to any one thing
and we'll make plans to think about it over cooffee and bed bugs
any way baby, i just wanted to say i haven't had better
and i wasn't thinking of you

i can remember when i was young, i used to believe that when you were given a doggy bag, it was a new portion of food prepared for you. i have no idea why.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

I spit purple

To think you have to be more attractive to play the part
well not every bluebird is the same shade
I spit purple
sometimes red
what else should you expect from me
the castle walls crumble sometimes
to expose a keep unkempt
and now which road is it
is it that i cant decide or choose not to
every step is a new path
when the ocean recedes make names in the sand
bcause as the water washes what else but a new
blank slate
beginning takes place
i don't want that name to stay
i have too many ideas here
the page will always turn bcause I'm always here for it
as great stories have unfolded in pasts turned future to presents
i pave the way as the ultimate asphalt layer
the untruth told
the new story unfolded
the great eternity made present by some slight of hand
a magician is always right
don't let it fool you though
your always in the midst

Quite often lying awake dreams come to me
i dismiss those i sleep through

the great abyss will always challenge
with challenge comes discovery whether positive or negative
any growth is good growth or else it would b called decay
embrace this fruish
nurture all b/c few kno th truths that mask blind eyesores
and they cant even describe the pain in lettered words
always walk a road whose numbers have been weathered
time knows many things and understanding brings new light
light which may be overbearing
let it blind
for human eyesight is weakened by dependence
which has no place in the individual heart
greatness is more often than not discovered
rather than found
while luck stakes its claim
the work will show when led by stray horses
new footing is earned
speech comes form planets unknown
i hold dearer to memories I've never known
Bcause their truths speak more honestly
I cant tell you which highway runs faster though
bcause I've never chosen that path
if you wish to see the garden before you
then you cant take an aeroplane
don't hold it back
that one instant may mean more than you could ever know
and in that instant you could lose everything
you could have ever wanted to be
even a night w/ a lonely friend
could do more than all those classes or talks w/ experience
you think are real.

butterflies under cellophane

turned aside
lost in a great stride
and spoken rhythms like
changes in the tide

this is the way the wind
keeps you pressed up pretty
against the wall like
butterflies under cellophane

I wanna tell you lies
I wanna show you truths
and talk in tones that we'll need
to create new punctuations for

...just get in the car.

~*Song Of The Open Road*~

AFOOT and light-hearted, I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune—I myself am good fortune;
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Strong and content, I travel the open road.

The earth—that is sufficient;
I do not want the constellations any nearer;
I know they are very well where they are;
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens;
I carry them, men and women—I carry them with me wherever I go; I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them;
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)

You road I enter upon and look around! I believe you are not all that is here;
I believe that much unseen is also here.

Here the profound lesson of reception, neither preference or denial;
The black with his woolly head, the felon, the diseas’d, the illiterate person, are not denied;
The birth, the hasting after the physician, the beggar’s tramp, the drunkard’s stagger, the laughing party of mechanics,
The escaped youth, the rich person’s carriage, the fop, the eloping couple,
The early market-man, the hearse, the moving of furniture into the town, the return back from the town,
They pass—I also pass—anything passes—none can be interdicted;
None but are accepted—none but are dear to me.

You air that serves me with breath to speak!
You objects that call from diffusion my meanings, and give them shape!
You light that wraps me and all things in delicate equable showers!
You paths worn in the irregular hollows by the roadsides!
I think you are latent with unseen existences—you are so dear to me.

You flagg’d walks of the cities! you strong curbs at the edges!
You ferries! you planks and posts of wharves! you timber-lined sides! you distant ships!
You rows of houses! you window-pierc’d façades! you roofs!
You porches and entrances! you copings and iron guards!
You windows whose transparent shells might expose so much!
You doors and ascending steps! you arches!
You gray stones of interminable pavements! you trodden crossings!
From all that has been near you, I believe you have imparted to yourselves, and now would impart the same secretly to me;
From the living and the dead I think you have peopled your impassive surfaces, and the spirits thereof would be evident and amicable with me.

The earth expanding right hand and left hand,
The picture alive, every part in its best light,
The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is not wanted,
The cheerful voice of the public road—the gay fresh sentiment of the road.

O highway I travel! O public road! do you say to me, Do not leave me?
Do you say, Venture not? If you leave me, you are lost?
Do you say, I am already prepared—I am well-beaten and undenied—adhere to me?

O public road! I say back, I am not afraid to leave you—yet I love you;
You express me better than I can express myself;
You shall be more to me than my poem.

I think heroic deeds were all conceiv’d in the open air, and all great poems also;
I think I could stop here myself, and do miracles;
(My judgments, thoughts, I henceforth try by the open air, the road;)
I think whatever I shall meet on the road I shall like, and whoever beholds me shall like me;
I think whoever I see must be happy.

From this hour, freedom!
From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines,
Going where I list, my own master, total and absolute,
Listening to others, and considering well what they say,
Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,
Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me.

I inhale great draughts of space;
The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are mine.

I am larger, better than I thought;
I did not know I held so much goodness.

All seems beautiful to me;
I can repeat over to men and women, You have done such good to me, I would do the same to you.

I will recruit for myself and you as I go;
I will scatter myself among men and women as I go;
I will toss the new gladness and roughness among them;
Whoever denies me, it shall not trouble me;
Whoever accepts me, he or she shall be blessed, and shall bless me.

Now if a thousand perfect men were to appear, it would not amaze me;
Now if a thousand beautiful forms of women appear’d, it would not astonish me.

Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons,
It is to grow in the open air, and to eat and sleep with the earth.

Here a great personal deed has room;
A great deed seizes upon the hearts of the whole race of men,
Its effusion of strength and will overwhelms law, and mocks all authority and all argument against it.

Here is the test of wisdom;
Wisdom is not finally tested in schools;
Wisdom cannot be pass’d from one having it, to another not having it;
Wisdom is of the Soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof,
Applies to all stages and objects and qualities, and is content,
Is the certainty of the reality and immortality of things, and the excellence of things;
Something there is in the float of the sight of things that provokes it out of the Soul.

Now I reëxamine philosophies and religions,
They may prove well in lecture-rooms, yet not prove at all under the spacious clouds, and along the landscape and flowing currents.

Here is realization;
Here is a man tallied—he realizes here what he has in him;
The past, the future, majesty, love—if they are vacant of you, you are vacant of them.

Only the kernel of every object nourishes;
Where is he who tears off the husks for you and me?
Where is he that undoes stratagems and envelopes for you and me?

Here is adhesiveness—it is not previously fashion’d—it is apropos;
Do you know what it is, as you pass, to be loved by strangers?
Do you know the talk of those turning eye-balls?

Here is the efflux of the Soul;
The efflux of the Soul comes from within, through embower’d gates, ever provoking questions:
These yearnings, why are they? These thoughts in the darkness, why are they?
Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me, the sun-light expands my blood?
Why, when they leave me, do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank?
Why are there trees I never walk under, but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me?
(I think they hang there winter and summer on those trees, and always drop fruit as I pass;)
What is it I interchange so suddenly with strangers?
What with some driver, as I ride on the seat by his side?
What with some fisherman, drawing his seine by the shore, as I walk by, and pause?
What gives me to be free to a woman’s or man’s good-will? What gives them to be free to mine?

The efflux of the Soul is happiness—here is happiness;
I think it pervades the open air, waiting at all times;
Now it flows unto us—we are rightly charged.

Here rises the fluid and attaching character;
The fluid and attaching character is the freshness and sweetness of man and woman;
(The herbs of the morning sprout no fresher and sweeter every day out of the roots of themselves, than it sprouts fresh and sweet continually out of itself.)

Toward the fluid and attaching character exudes the sweat of the love of young and old;
From it falls distill’d the charm that mocks beauty and attainments;
Toward it heaves the shuddering longing ache of contact.

Allons! whoever you are, come travel with me! Traveling with me, you find what never tires.

The earth never tires;
The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first—Nature is rude and incomprehensible at first;
Be not discouraged—keep on—there are divine things, well envelop’d;
I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.

Allons! we must not stop here!
However sweet these laid-up stores—however convenient this dwelling, we cannot remain here;
However shelter’d this port, and however calm these waters, we must not anchor here;
However welcome the hospitality that surrounds us, we are permitted to receive it but a little while.

Allons! the inducements shall be greater;
We will sail pathless and wild seas;
We will go where winds blow, waves dash, and the Yankee clipper speeds by under full sail.

Allons! with power, liberty, the earth, the elements!
Health, defiance, gayety, self-esteem, curiosity;
Allons! from all formules!
From your formules, O bat-eyed and materialistic priests!

The stale cadaver blocks up the passage—the burial waits no longer.

Allons! yet take warning!
He traveling with me needs the best blood, thews, endurance;
None may come to the trial, till he or she bring courage and health.

Come not here if you have already spent the best of yourself;
Only those may come, who come in sweet and determin’d bodies;
No diseas’d person—no rum-drinker or venereal taint is permitted here.

I and mine do not convince by arguments, similes, rhymes;
We convince by our presence.

Listen! I will be honest with you;
I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough new prizes;
These are the days that must happen to you:

You shall not heap up what is call’d riches,
You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn or achieve,
You but arrive at the city to which you were destin’d—you hardly settle yourself to satisfaction, before you are call’d by an irresistible call to depart,
You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and mockings of those who remain behind you;
What beckonings of love you receive, you shall only answer with passionate kisses of parting,
You shall not allow the hold of those who spread their reach’d hands toward you.

Allons! after the GREAT COMPANIONS! and to belong to them!
They too are on the road! they are the swift and majestic men; they are the greatest women.
Over that which hinder’d them—over that which retarded—passing impediments large or small,
Committers of crimes, committers of many beautiful virtues,
Enjoyers of calms of seas, and storms of seas,
Sailors of many a ship, walkers of many a mile of land,
Habitués of many distant countries, habitués of far-distant dwellings,
Trusters of men and women, observers of cities, solitary toilers,
Pausers and contemplators of tufts, blossoms, shells of the shore,
Dancers at wedding-dances, kissers of brides, tender helpers of children, bearers of children,
Soldiers of revolts, standers by gaping graves, lowerers down of coffins,
Journeyers over consecutive seasons, over the years—the curious years, each emerging from that which preceded it,
Journeyers as with companions, namely, their own diverse phases,
Forth-steppers from the latent unrealized baby-days,
Journeyers gayly with their own youth—Journeyers with their bearded and well-grain’d manhood,
Journeyers with their womanhood, ample, unsurpass’d, content,
Journeyers with their own sublime old age of manhood or womanhood,
Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty breadth of the universe,
Old age, flowing free with the delicious near-by freedom of death.

Allons! to that which is endless, as it was beginningless,
To undergo much, tramps of days, rests of nights,
To merge all in the travel they tend to, and the days and nights they tend to,
Again to merge them in the start of superior journeys;
To see nothing anywhere but what you may reach it and pass it,
To conceive no time, however distant, but what you may reach it and pass it,
To look up or down no road but it stretches and waits for you—however long, but it stretches and waits for you;
To see no being, not God’s or any, but you also go thither,
To see no possession but you may possess it—enjoying all without labor or purchase—abstracting the feast, yet not abstracting one particle of it;
To take the best of the farmer’s farm and the rich man’s elegant villa, and the chaste blessings of the well-married couple, and the fruits of orchards and flowers of gardens,
To take to your use out of the compact cities as you pass through,
To carry buildings and streets with you afterward wherever you go,
To gather the minds of men out of their brains as you encounter them—to gather the love out of their hearts,
To take your lovers on the road with you, for all that you leave them behind you,
To know the universe itself as a road—as many roads—as roads for traveling souls.

The Soul travels;
The body does not travel as much as the soul;
The body has just as great a work as the soul, and parts away at last for the journeys of the soul.

All parts away for the progress of souls;
All religion, all solid things, arts, governments,—all that was or is apparent upon this globe or any globe, falls into niches and corners before the procession of Souls along the grand roads of the universe.

Of the progress of the souls of men and women along the grand roads of the universe, all other progress is the needed emblem and sustenance.

Forever alive, forever forward,
Stately, solemn, sad, withdrawn, baffled, mad, turbulent, feeble, dissatisfied,
Desperate, proud, fond, sick, accepted by men, rejected by men,
They go! they go! I know that they go, but I know not where they go;
But I know that they go toward the best—toward something great.

Allons! whoever you are! come forth!
You must not stay sleeping and dallying there in the house, though you built it, or though it has been built for you.

Allons! out of the dark confinement!
It is useless to protest—I know all, and expose it.

Behold, through you as bad as the rest,
Through the laughter, dancing, dining, supping, of people,
Inside of dresses and ornaments, inside of those wash’d and trimm’d faces,
Behold a secret silent loathing and despair.

No husband, no wife, no friend, trusted to hear the confession;
Another self, a duplicate of every one, skulking and hiding it goes,
Formless and wordless through the streets of the cities, polite and bland in the parlors,
In the cars of rail-roads, in steamboats, in the public assembly,
Home to the houses of men and women, at the table, in the bed-room, everywhere,
Smartly attired, countenance smiling, form upright, death under the breast-bones, hell under the skull-bones,
Under the broadcloth and gloves, under the ribbons and artificial flowers,
Keeping fair with the customs, speaking not a syllable of itself,
Speaking of anything else, but never of itself.

Allons! through struggles and wars!
The goal that was named cannot be countermanded.

Have the past struggles succeeded?
What has succeeded? yourself? your nation? nature?
Now understand me well—It is provided in the essence of things, that from any fruition of success, no matter what, shall come forth something to make a greater struggle necessary.

My call is the call of battle—I nourish active rebellion;
He going with me must go well arm’d;
He going with me goes often with spare diet, poverty, angry enemies, desertions.

Allons! the road is before us!
It is safe—I have tried it—my own feet have tried it well.

Allons! be not detain’d!
Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the shelf unopen’d!
Let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money remain unearn’d!
Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher!
Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the court, and the judge expound the law.

Mon enfant! I give you my hand!
I give you my love, more precious than money, I give you myself, before preaching or law; Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me?
Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?

~*Walt Whitman