dream home.

(Source: furstyphoto, via mymadeupdreams)

"A woman from the audience asks: ‘Why were there so few women among the Beat writers?’ and [Gregory] Corso, suddenly utterly serious, leans forward and says: “There were women, they were there, I knew them, their families put them in institutions, they were given electric shock. In the ’50s if you were male you could be a rebel, but if you were female your families had you locked up."

Stephen Scobie, on the Naropa Institute’s 1994 tribute to Allen Ginsberg (via fuckyeahbeatniks) (via talkwordytome)

(via westernstarboard)

"Glaciers move in tides.
So do mountains.
So do all things."

John Muir, Letters from Alaska (via awelltraveledwoman)

(Source: anintimatewoman, via awelltraveledwoman)

Angus & Julia Stone – Big Jet Plane (acoustic) (76,737 plays)

I wanna hold her, I wanna kiss her
She smelled of daisies, she smelled of daisies
She drive me crazy, she drive me crazy

(Source: angusjuliastone, via thatkindofwoman)

"The only heaven I’ll be sent to
Is when I’m alone with you.."

Take Me To Church (via tumsperks)

(via newportfolkfest)

(Source: the-fallen-sky-exist, via the-solstice)


Daniel Bachman's “Coming Home” is an ode to being “slow, exhausted, defeated,” filmed here in a church sanctuary. 

Watch it here and on All Songs TV

"Please hear me, Girl: The world has enough women who know how to do their hair. It needs women who know how to do hard and holy things."

Ann Voskamp (via awelltraveledwoman)

(Source: thedelightedpeople, via starthandingoutstars)


Broadhurst Architects | hat tip tinyhouseswoon

(via thecountryfucker)


I am always moving towards you.

On my bad days, I say to myself: “then you”.
Sure, this now. But then you.

I will keep tossing myself life lines.
I will keep writing myself afloat
until I don’t have to write a poem for every mile marker
from here to California.

You and I together is the most foolish thing
I’ve ever hoped for. You and I apart is more foolish.

When I can’t sleep at night, I dream up
conversations with you. I never call. I never push.
I try not to whine. I just write it all down.

Sometimes I want to apologize for wanting you out loud,
like too many people know the reasons
I am going to have laugh lines.

Sometimes instead of distanced pillow talk,
I want to curl up with the phone
and read you poetry.

Instead, we just talk about it.

You say, “honey, how was your day?”
And I say, “today I wrote another poem
about your coffee cup mouth
and all the ways you still keep me up at night.”

I hear a sigh in your smile.
You make a sound that reminds me of
fighting with my bags at the airport;
but you’re still too far away.


"Laugh Lines" Trista Mateer (via tristamateer)

(via 139381512)