Las arañas iban por los laureles. La casualidad se va tornando en nieve, y los años dormidos ya se atreven a clavar los telares del siempre. La Quietud hecha esfinge se ríe de la Muerte que canta melancólica en un grupo de lejanos cipreses. La yedra de las gotas tapiza las paredes empapadas de arcaicos … More Patio húmedo
It is hard to find a Vallejo video that is not sentimental, or eerie, or both. People really seem to think he was those things, and he does come from an eerie town. And he is associated with pain, and desgarre might as well be his middle name. I really wonder about all of this, … More A mi hermano Miguel
The H.D. Book is at its core a polemic–elevating the female and the nonconformist and the heterodox against the institutions of men. One of these institutions was literature. Axé.
1910, from Fr. sabotage, from saboter “to sabotage, bungle,” lit. “walk noisily,” from sabot “wooden shoe” (13c.), altered (by association with O. Fr. bot “boot”) from M. Fr. savate “old shoe,” from an unidentified source that also produced similar words in O. Prov., Portuguese, Spanish, Italian, Arabic and Basque. In French, the sense of “deliberately … More sabotage (n.)
There is actual broccoli growing on my broccoli plants, and I am very impressed. I also appear to have taken two days off. I took most of two days off last weekend, too, but it was for travel and excitement. These two days I: • slept until 10 AM • worked three hours in the … More On Bicycles
“Soleil de la conscience” des mutations de notre monde…. Qui sait qu’un homme d’une importance considérable pour ses semblables est mort jeudi matin à Paris? Axé.
Mardi Gras morning won’t be long! Axé.
Look: up every bone every sky every day every you– he goes working his way up blue earlobes from ocean goes thrown by rosesudden someone’s already tomorrow goes riding his bed of daysided gold goes skimming sleep countries from west to east until sudden rosestopped someone’s already earliness opens the back of the clock: he … More Mimnermos
‘Tis the year’s midnight, and it is the day’s, Lucy’s, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks; The sun is spent, and now his flasks Send forth light squibs, no constant rays; The world’s whole sap is sunk; The general balm th’ hydroptic earth hath drunk, Whither, as to the bed’s-feet, life is shrunk, Dead and … More A Nocturnal Upon St. Lucy’s Day
Todos han muerto. Murió doña Antonia, la ronca, que hacía pan barato en el burgo. Murió el cura Santiago, a quien placía le saludasen los jóvenes y las mozas, respondiéndoles a todos, indistintamente: “Buenos días, José! Buenos días, María!” Murió aquella joven rubia, Carlota, dejando un hijito de meses, que luego también murió a los … More La violencia de las horas
coldhearted scientist وداد 