Treasure Cove, Manzanita, Oregon

Treasure Cove, Manzanita, Oregon

After dinner or lunch or whatever it was — with my crazy 12-hour night I was no longer sure what was what — I said, “Look, baby, I’m sorry, but don’t you realize that this job is driving me crazy? Look, let’s give it up. Let’s just lay around and make love and take walks and talk a little. Let’s go to the zoo. Let’s look at animals. Let’s drive down and look at the ocean. It’s only 45 minutes. Let’s play games in the arcades. Let’s go to the races, the Art Museum, the boxing matches. Let’s have friends. Let’s laugh. This kind of life like everybody else’s kind of life: it’s killing us.”
Charles Bukowski, Post Office (via ughpoems)

(Source: sheistoofondofbooks)

221 notes

Winter smoke is blue and bitter:
women comfort you in winter.
Scent of thyme is cool and tender:
girls are music to remember.
Men are made of rock and thunder:
threat of storm to labor under.
Cypress woods are demon-dark:
boys are fox-teeth in your heart.
(via dominicmatthew)

83 notes

andreinandrea:

Re-Imagining Fruits and Vegetables.

Sarah Illenberger.

15,829 notes

may something
comfort you—a mockingbird, a breeze, rain
on the roof, Chopin’s Nocturnes, a kiss,
or even me—in my chilly kitchen
with my coat on—thinking of you.
Ellen Bass, from Insomnia (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

(Source: violentwavesofemotion)

2,104 notes

April is the cruelest month, T.S. Eliot wrote, by which I think he meant (among other things) that springtime makes people crazy. We expect too much, the world burgeons with promises it can’t keep, all passion is really a setup, and we’re doomed to get our hearts broken yet again. I agree, and would further add: Who cares? Every spring I go out there anyway, around the bend, unconditionally. … Come the end of the dark days, I am more than joyful. I’m nuts.
Barbara Kingsolver (via emotional-algebra)

252 notes