Poems are written and absorbed, silently and aloud, in prisons, in prairie kitchens, urban basement workshops, branch libraries, battered women’s shelters, homeless shelters, offices, a public hospital for disabled people, an HIV support group. A poet can be born in a house with empty bookshelves. Sooner or later, s/he will need books.
Adrienne Rich, What Is Found There: Notebooks on Poetry and Politics, 1994. (via insufficientmind)
Go follow my sister’s blog she is drawing too!
me now everyday maybe just today maybe also tomorrow
i’m sorry but i’m not ashamed to like shitty pop music
how the fuck am i supposed to dance around my room to bon iver
WHAT A GOOD IDEA