Some Words About Word Count

thewritingcafe:

Everyone worries about word count. Whether you’re writing a first draft, trying to reach a daily goal, or revising, you’re probably worrying about your word count.

When You Shouldn’t Worry about Word Count:

  • Writing your first draft. All first drafts suck. Everyone can…

Some good advice

theparisreview:

Stephen Spender self-portrait. “The only important ritual for me is to write in such a way that I shut out all consciousness of my public. Journalism is for the public; poetry is a kind of secret vice.”

theparisreview:

Stephen Spender self-portrait. “The only important ritual for me is to write in such a way that I shut out all consciousness of my public. Journalism is for the public; poetry is a kind of secret vice.”

krystalkaotic:

Little dark girl with kind eyes💀🌹💀
#CharlesBukowski #Bukowski #love #spokenword #poetry #poet #melancholy #misanthrope #depression #YouWontLikeMe

krystalkaotic:

Little dark girl with kind eyes💀🌹💀
#CharlesBukowski #Bukowski #love #spokenword #poetry #poet #melancholy #misanthrope #depression #YouWontLikeMe

rockalldirt:

"Quando ti ho detto che mi sarei fatto una sega pensando a te l’hai presa male, ma io non avevo il coraggio di dirti che ti amo" (Charles Bukowski). 

Notes from a dirty old man

rockalldirt:

"Quando ti ho detto che mi sarei fatto una sega pensando a te l’hai presa male, ma io non avevo il coraggio di dirti che ti amo" (Charles Bukowski).

Notes from a dirty old man

(Source: dirtwebmagazine, via salutodicendoapiu)

(Source: iamadamstanley, via tashtoo)

(Source: heteroglossia)

poetrysince1912:

—Denise Levertov, Poetry, October 1958Denise Levertov was born on October 24, 1923. Hear her read, and learn more about her life and work, on our Essential American Poets podcast.

poetrysince1912:

—Denise Levertov, Poetry, October 1958

Denise Levertov was born on October 24, 1923. Hear her read, and learn more about her life and work, on our Essential American Poets podcast.

Some people,
no matter what you give them,
still want the moon.

The bread,
the salt,
white meat and dark,
still hungry.

The marriage bed
and the cradle,
still empty arms.

You give them land,
their own earth under their feet,
still they take to the roads.

And water: dig them the deepest well,
still it’s not deep enough
to drink the moon from.

Denise Levertov, Adam’s Complaint (via grammatolatry)