plant, thread, charcoal, nail.
ohhhh! such a big ol’ fan of what’s made by this brain, these hands. samsamsam.
6:29 pm • 15 September 2014 • 2 notes
"I too lived - brooklyn, of ample hills, was mine…" #vscocam #icecream
6:26 pm • 15 September 2014
“How about be sappy & corny & sad
& awful & pretentious & obvious & dumb.
Because all the best poems
are at least three of these things.
It isn’t that we should quit being sentimental.
It’s that we should get super good at it.
Our hearts are eighteen hungry wolves
that are okay saying things about ‘our hearts.’”
— Sara Woods, “Notes to a Young Poet,” from H_NGM_N's project of the same name (via bostonpoetryslam)
6:07 pm • 15 September 2014 • 267 notes
“The uneasy suspicion that if you heard yourself talking, you would sound like an asshole.”
— (via magnificentruin)
7:59 pm • 14 September 2014 • 2,004 notes
“You know, they straightened out the Mississippi River in places, to make room for houses and livable acreage. Occasionally the river floods these places. “Floods” is the word they use, but in fact it is not flooding; it is remembering. Remembering where it used to be. All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was. Writers are like that: remembering where we were, what valley we ran through, what the banks were like, the light that was there and the route back to our original place. It is emotional memory — what the nerves and the skin remember as well as how it appeared. And a rush of imagination if is our “flooding.””
— Excerpt from “The Site of Memory,” Toni Morrison, What Moves at the Margin: Selected Nonfiction (via quietlyhaunted)
(Source: commovente, via pedaltothemetalmylucktothetest)
11:52 am • 11 September 2014 • 2,713 notes
“wednesday is me: a
bored ghost dropping lit candles into the
trashcan. people buying my bones for nothing.
wednesday is the pier i stood on after you
suggested that i should drown. wednesday is a
man screaming off of it.”
John Mortara, “wednesday,” published in Big Lucks (via sarahjeanalex)
(Source: bostonpoetryslam, via myshoesuntied)
11:56 pm • 10 September 2014 • 306 notes
“So long as you write what you wish to write, that is all that matters; and whether it matters for ages or only for hours, nobody can say.”
― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own
6:11 pm • 8 September 2014 • 3,090 notes