August 2010
1 post
June 2010
8 posts
May 2010
23 posts
Federico García Lorca
The Gypsy and the Wind Playing her parchment moon Precosia comes along a watery path of laurels and crystal lights. The starless silence, fleeing from her rhythmic tambourine, falls where the sea whips and sings, his night filled with silvery swarms. High atop the mountain peaks the sentinels are weeping; they guard the tall white towers of the English consulate. And gypsies of the water for their...
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I Crave Your Mouth, Your Voice, Your Hair
DON’T GO FAR OFF, NOT EVEN FOR A DAY Don’t go far off, not even for a day, because — because — I don’t know how to say it: a day is long and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep. Don’t leave me, even for an hour, because then the little drops of anguish will all run together, the smoke...
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I’ve got a bottle of your blood inside me, and an old beggars prayer on the tip of my tongue.
April 2010
36 posts
this song makes my heart explode every single...
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