August 2011
14 posts
Anne Michaels: "The Weight of Oranges" →
sharingpoetry.tumblr.com
My cup’s the same sand colour as bread.
Rain’s the same colour of a building across the street,
its torn red dahlias
and ruined a book propped on the sill.
Rain articulates the skins of everything,
pink of bricks from the fire they baked in,
lizard green leaves,
the wrinkled tongues of…
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I need a haircut.
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“Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead.”
— Charles Bukowski” —
— Charles Bukowski” —
“Drinking is an emotional thing. It joggles you out of the standardism of everyday life, out of everything being the same. It yanks you out of your body and your mind and throws you against the wall. I have the feeling that drinking is a form of suicide where you’re allowed to return to life and begin all over the next day. It’s like killing yourself, and then you’re reborn. I guess I’ve lived about ten or fifteen thousand lives now.”
— Charles Bukowski” —
— Charles Bukowski” —
