The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
Father, the year is fallen.Leaves bedeck my careful flesh like stone.One shard of brilliant summer pierced meAnd remains.By this only,—unregenerate boneI am not dead, but waiting.When the last warmth is goneI shall bear in the snow.
Beneath the carving drag of woodThe land moves slowly.But lightning comes. Growing their secret in brown earthSpread like a womanDaringIs weary work for still-eyed menWho break the earth, nurse their seed,And a hard watching through the dry season.Yet, at the…
I hear myself drought caughtPleading a windy causeDry as the earth without rainCrying love, in tongues of false thunderWhile my love waitsLike a seeded trap in the door of my houseMouth bound with perfect teethSure of their strength on boneWhile…
How the young attempt and are brokenDiffers from age to ageWe were brown free girlsLove singing beneath their skinSun in their hair in their eyesSun their fortuneThe taste of their young boys’ manhoodSwelling like birds in their mouths. In a…
I sawYour hands on my lips like blind needlesBluntedFrom sewing up stoneAnd Where are you from you saidYour hands reading over my lips for Some road through uncertain night For your feet to examine home Where are you from you…
No man is robbed of stone, of a dead rootNor of losingThough the rubbery mouth shoutsThrough nights thickness “Stop—Thief—”Only hope cobbles this thin remembering.Brushing a thief’s print from my doorwayI would wakeTrapped between a new day’s smellAnd the artful manner…
He, through the eyes of the first marauderSaw her, catch of bright thunder, heapingTea and bread for her guardian deadCrunching the nut-dry words they saidAnd (thinking the bones were sleeping)He broke through the muffled afternoonCalling an end to their ritual’s…
Moon minded the sun goes farther from usSplit into swirled days, smoked,UnhungeredAnd no longer young. All earth falls downLike lost light, frightened out between my fingers.Here at the end of night, our love is a burned out ocean—A dry-worded brittle…
Spring is the harshestBlurring the lines of choiceUntil summer fleshSwallows up all decision. I remember after the harvest was overWhen the thick sheaves were goneAnd the bones of the gaunt treesUncoveredHow the dying of autumn was too easyTo solve our…
We have no passions left to love the springWho had suffered autumn as we did, aloneWalking through dominions of a browning laughterCarrying our loneliness our loving and our grief. How can we know another spring.For there will come no flower…