The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
The names of God and especially those of His representative Who is called Jesus or Christ according to holy books and someone’s mouth These names have been used, worn out and left On the shores of rivers of of human…
Rise up to be born with me, brother. Give me your hand from the deep Zone seeded by your sorrow. You won’t return from under the rocks. You won’t return from your subterranean time. Your hardened voice won’t return. Your…
III. Tell me, is the rose naked or is that her only dress? Why do trees conceal the splendor of their roots? Who hears the regrets of the thieving automobile? Is there anything in the world sadder than a train…
Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, ‘The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’ The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines.…
Fleas interest me so much that I let them bite me for hours. They are perfect, ancient, Sanskrit, machines that admit of no appeal. They do not bite to eat, they bite only to jump; they are the dancers of…
Matilde, years or days sleeping, feverish, here or there, gazing off, twisting my spine, bleeding true blood, perhaps I awaken or am lost, sleeping: hospital beds, foreign windows, white uniforms of the silent walkers, the clumsiness of feet. And then,…
All those men were there inside, when she came in totally naked. They had been drinking: they began to spit. Newly come from the river, she knew nothing. She was a mermaid who had lost her way. The insults flowed…
Do you remember when in winter we reached the island? The sea raised toward us a crown of cold. On the walls the climbing vines murmured letting dark leaves fall as we passed. You too were a little leaf that…
Beloved of the rivers, beset By azure water and transparent drops, Like a tree of veins your spectre Of dark goddess biting apples: And then awakening naked To be tattoed by the rivers, And in the wet heights your head…
You’ve asked me what the lobster is weaving there with his golden feet? I reply, the ocean knows this. You say, what is the ascidia waiting for in its transparent bell? What is it waiting for? I tell you it…