Tossed up like a handful of confetti, she, red tail, is elbowed off like a bride to the wild, but she reels and staggers,
tu eres talvez mi corazon gitano que vega en el azul llorando versos! —César Vallejo We bet high and slept in the streets, sure
“Il ny’a rien de hors-langue” JD come from a wide square full of bodies moving like dark sails in the harbor, sweet figs, staying
When you’ve slept, not enough but just enough that every further minute you might sleep has particular and small substantive weight like one last