Nothing shall remain.
My fourth tattoo.
“Please accept from me this unpretentious bouquet of early blooming parentheses: (((())))”
~J.D. Salinger
Done by Max Weebzy at The Alley Chicago
One of my favorite ee cummings poems paired with one of his drawings. Inked by Tony and Jinx Proof Tattoos in Washington DC
one’s not half two. It’s two are halves of one:
which halves reintegrating,shall occur
no death and any quantity;but than
all numerable mosts the actual more
minds ignorant of stern miraculous
this every truth-beware of heartless them
(given the scalpel,they dissect a kiss;
or,sold the reason,they undream a dream)
one is the song which fiends and angels sing:
all murdering lies by mortals told make two.
Let liars wilt,repaying life they’re loaned;
we(by a gift called dying born)must grow
deep in dark least ourselves remembering
love only rides his year.
All lose,whole find
Poetry should be written the way adultery is committed: on the run, on the sly, during the time not accounted for. And then you come home, as if nothing ever happened.
“
| — | Vera Pavlova |
“Francois Rabelais. He was a poet. And his last words were “I go to seek a Great Perhaps.” That’s why I’m going. So I don’t have to wait until I die to start seeking a Great Perhaps.”
For my love on John Green and his work, the ship for my latest trip to Tanzania and all the things i found there, literally and metaphorically.
Love removes the world for you, and just as surely when it’s going well as when it’s going badly.
“
| — | Alice Munro |
Two years ago tonight, I had this quote by Jean Genet tattooed on my ribcage.
Tattoo by Michael Bogle, Eye Candy, New Orleans
Sometimes I think it was there all along.
“Some birds are not meant to be caged, that’s all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure.”
― Stephen King, Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption: A Story from Different Seasons
Done by Chris Amlie, North Bellmore, NY
