most beautiful poem

this is the most beautiful poem i have read in a long time.

Song
By Allen Ginsberg

The weight of the world
is love.
Under the burden
of solitude,
under the burden
of dissatisfaction

the weight,
the weight we carry
is love.

Who can deny?
In dreams
it touches
the body,
in thought
constructs
a miracle,
in imagination
anguishes
till born
in human--
looks out of the heart
burning with purity--
for the burden of life
is love,

but we carry the weight
wearily,
and so must rest
in the arms of love
at last,
must rest in the arms
of love.

No rest
without love,
no sleep
without dreams
of love--
be mad or chill
obsessed with angels
or machines,
the final wish
is love
-- cannot be bitter,
cannot deny,
cannot withhold
if denied:

the weight is too heavy

--must give
for no return
as thought
is given
in solitude
in all the excellence
of its excess.

The warm bodies
shine together
in the darkness,
the hand moves
to the center
of the flesh,
the skin trembles
in happiness
and the soul comes
joyful to the eye--

yes, yes,
that's what
I wanted,
I always wanted,
I always wanted,
to return
to the body
where I was born.
San Jose, 1954

random subway story

I was on the subway recently doing one of my little logic puzzles and a man sat down next to me. I didn't pay attention to him until he asked what kind of puzzle I was doing. (they are called "paint by numbers" - I am addicted) He then continued on to say that he had seen me earlier that day on the downtown train doing them. I laughed and said we must have the same schedule. The coincidence made me smile.

Nancy Drew

So today I was heading out to meet a friend. as I opened the door to my elevator there was an old man waiting on the other side to go up to his apartment. I didn't recognize him, but he had a load of groceries in a wire cart. We said hello, as I live in a very friendly building, and I went on my way.

When I reached the front door of the lobby, it was beeping. I saw a set of keys in the lock and assumed they were the old man's. I went back into the building with the keys thinking, ok, he probably can't get into his apartment without them but maybe his wife is home or something and he will just ring the bell. should i leave them on the table in the lobby? on top of the mailboxes? with the ladies who live on the first floor who act as doormen and tenents' association officers but who are just nosy? do I wait for him to come back down?

As I was thinking I looked at the set of keys. No apartment numbers engraved on them or anything, but then I realized one was a mailbox key. Debating the legality of opening someone else's mailbox, I realized if it weren't the old man's keys, whoever it was would want it back. So i started trying the boxes. Finally, on the sixth floor, I found the match. I triumphantly pressed the elevator call button so i could go up to meet the key's owner. As the door opened, there stood the old man, cart still in tow. He said, "I'm going down" (I immediately thought, ah to the super's apartment... I've so been there when I lock myself out!"), and I said, "Are these your keys?"

He took them from me and said something to the effect of "Oh, thank you! God Bless You child!" It made me happy to give a little kindness back to a building that always gave a lot back to me over the last 2 years. Plus I felt a little like nancy drew.

another one!

Another old friend just outed himself on friendster! Funny thing was he was the one everyone expected to be gay but he kept denying it. Guess we were right all along!