When he was alone, he consoled himself with the dream of the infinite rooms. He dreamed that he was getting out of bed, opening the door and going into an identical room with the same bed with a wrought-iron head, the same wicker chair, and the same small picture on the back wall. From that… Continue reading Gabriel García Márquez
I saw you I saw you in the distance in front of the wall I saw the hole of your shadow on the wall There was still some sand left And your bare feet Your footprints that went on and on How would I have known you The… Continue reading Pierre Reverdy
We are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter ― Allen Ginsberg, from “Howl: Section III,” Howl and Other Poems. (City Lights Publishers; Anniversary edition, January 1, 2001) Originally published 1956.