Vinhos
-
That night we were camped somewhere in the Klamath National Forest. It felt like some of my strength had somehow returned, and for a while, in camp, I was sure that the mystery bug was finished with its business inside of me, and yet I could not be too...
-
So, on the first take, when our little pile of shrubbery beached on the rocks, and it was time to make a break for it to shore, did we ever. It wasn't far, but all I could think of, much like when you're climbing a ladder, and your mind keeps...
-
Some wines are made by assembly line; unflawed, perfect and perfectly boring. Others are less predictable, sometimes showing the little quirks that make wine lovers shiver with excitement. Earth, usually the mark of a European wine, can add that frisson....
- Fever 103°
Pure? What does it mean? The tongues of hell Are dull, dull as the triple Tongues of dull, fat Cerberus Who wheezes at the gate. Incapable Of licking clean The aguey tendon, the sin, the sin. The tinder cries. The indelible smell Of a snuffed candle!...
- The Golden Palominos — Dead Inside
I feel the motion of the car before I open my eyes. The air is blue-black, brown-black, black-black. Smell of gas, oil, animals. I'm in the trunk. My wrists and ankles tied. Tape over my mouth, it almost covers my nose, but I can breathe barely. I...
Vinhos
Mushrooms
Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly
Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.
Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.
Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,
Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,
Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We
Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking
Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!
We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,
Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:
We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot's in the door.
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly
Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.
Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.
Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,
Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,
Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We
Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking
Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!
We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,
Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:
We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot's in the door.
Sylvia Plath; 13/Nov/'59
loading...
-
That night we were camped somewhere in the Klamath National Forest. It felt like some of my strength had somehow returned, and for a while, in camp, I was sure that the mystery bug was finished with its business inside of me, and yet I could not be too...
-
So, on the first take, when our little pile of shrubbery beached on the rocks, and it was time to make a break for it to shore, did we ever. It wasn't far, but all I could think of, much like when you're climbing a ladder, and your mind keeps...
-
Some wines are made by assembly line; unflawed, perfect and perfectly boring. Others are less predictable, sometimes showing the little quirks that make wine lovers shiver with excitement. Earth, usually the mark of a European wine, can add that frisson....
- Fever 103°
Pure? What does it mean? The tongues of hell Are dull, dull as the triple Tongues of dull, fat Cerberus Who wheezes at the gate. Incapable Of licking clean The aguey tendon, the sin, the sin. The tinder cries. The indelible smell Of a snuffed candle!...
- The Golden Palominos — Dead Inside
I feel the motion of the car before I open my eyes. The air is blue-black, brown-black, black-black. Smell of gas, oil, animals. I'm in the trunk. My wrists and ankles tied. Tape over my mouth, it almost covers my nose, but I can breathe barely. I...