The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
This salt in the salt cellar I once saw in the salt mines. I know you won’t believe me but it sings salt sings, the skin of the salt mines sings with a mouth smothered by the earth. I shivered…
Sadness, scarab with seven crippled feet, spiderweb egg, scramble-brained rat, bitch’s skeleton: No entry here. Don’t come in. Go away. Go back south with your umbrella, go back north with your serpent’s teeth. A poet lives here. No sadness may…
Maru Mori brought me a pair of socks which she knitted herself with her sheepherder’s hands, two socks as soft as rabbits. I slipped my feet into them as though into two cases knitted with threads of twilight and goatskin.…
America, from a grain of maize you grew to crown with spacious lands the ocean foam. A grain of maize was your geography. From the grain a green lance rose, was covered with gold, to grace the heights of Peru…
Poetry is white: it comes from water swathed in drops, it wrinkles and gathers, this planet’s skin has to spread out, the sea’s whiteness has to be ironed out, and the hands keep moving, the sacred surfaces get smoothed, and…
Oceanic dawn at the center of my life, waves like grapes, the sky’s solitude, you fill me and flood the complete sea, the undiminished sky, tempo and space, sea foam’s white battalions, the orange earth, the sun’s fiery waist in…
Every morning you wait, clothes, over a chair, to fill yourself with my vanity, my love, my hope, my body. Barely risen from sleep, I relinquish the water, enter your sleeves, my legs look for the hollows of your legs,…
Things get broken at home like they were pushed by an invisible, deliberate smasher. It’s not my hands or yours It wasn’t the girls with their hard fingernails or the motion of the planet. It wasn’t anything or anybody It…
Now Let’s look for birds! The tall iron branches in the forest, The dense fertility on the ground. The world is wet. A dewdrop or raindrop shines, a diminutive star among the leaves. The morning time mother earth is cool.…
I don’t believe in age. All old people carry in their eyes, a child, and children, at times observe us with the eyes of wise ancients. Shall we measure life in meters or kilometers or months? How far since you…