The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
There is a bitter root ubaand a world of a thousand terraces. Not even the smallest handbreak the water gate. Where are you going? where to? where?There is a sky of a thousand windows~livid bee battle~and there is a bitter…
If I dieleave the balcony open The boy eats oranges(From my balcony I see it) The reaper mowing wheat(I’m sorry from my balcony) If I dieleave the balcony open
In the green morningI wanted to be a heart.a heart. And in the ripe eveningI wanted to be a nightingale.A nightingale. (Soul,turn oranged colored.Soul, turn the color of love.) In the vivid morningI wanted to be myself.A heart. And at…
Find them a conscience declared in an absolute casual sun, find them a feat declared by the happy thingsAbsolute windows, absolute little livesAlways tell a wall, letter throne stone desk-life, as it mayThat which through a cautious power dwells, accidental…
In the sky there is nobody asleep. Nobody, nobody.Nobody is asleep.The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their cabins.The living iguanas will come and bite the men who do not dream,and the man who rushes out with his…
Says the afternoon: “I thirst for shadow!”The moon says: “I thirst for stars!”The crystal fountain asks for lipsand the wind sighs. I thirst for aromas and laughter,thirst for new songswithout moons and without lilies,and without dead loves. A morning song…
But like lovethe archersare blind Upon the green night,the piercing saetasleave traces of warmlily. The keel of the moonbreaks through purple cloudsand their quiversfill with dew. Ay, but like lovethe archersare blind!
The moon came into the forgein her bustle of flowering nard.The little boy stares at her, stares.The boy is staring hard.In the shaken airthe moon moves her amrs,and shows lubricious and pure,her breasts of hard tin.“Moon, moon, moon, run!If the…
Above the skyI walk from the daisies. I imagine this afternoonthat I am holythey gave me the moonin the hands.I put it againin the spacesand the Lord rewarded mewith the rose and the halo. Above the skyI walk from the…
Tree, treedry and green. The girl with the pretty faceis out picking olives.The wind, playboy of towers,grabs her around the waist.Four riders passed byon Andalusian ponies,with blue and green jacketsand big, dark capes.“Come to Cordoba, muchacha.”The girl won’t listen to…