Ode To Broken Things (Pablo Neruda Poems)
Things get broken at home like they were pushed by an invisible, deliberate smasher. It's not my hands or yours It wasn't the girls with their hard ...
Things get broken at home like they were pushed by an invisible, deliberate smasher. It's not my hands or yours It wasn't the girls with their hard ...
One morn I looked across the way, And saw you fling your window wide To welcome in the breath of May In breezes ...
" The air filled with a pungent charcoal smell And the doors closed before sunset; From that neighborhood ...
As the cat climbed over the top of the jamcloset first the right forefoot carefully then the hind stepped down ...
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