Poets with Pistols*
derrierelasalledebains:

William s Burroughs
(photo Michael Heitmann)

derrierelasalledebains:

William s Burroughs

(photo Michael Heitmann)

millionsmillions:

“I drank because I wanted to drown my sorrows, but now the damned things have learned to swim.” - Frida Kahlo 

"Memory" ("Recuerdo) by artist Frida Kahlo
I had swayed. Nothing else. But suddenly I knew
In the depth of my silence
He was following me. Like my shadow, blameless and light
In the night, a song sobbed…
The Indians lengthened, winding, through the alleys of the town.
A harp and a jacaranda were the music, and the smiling dark-skinned girls
Were the happiness
In the background, behind the “Zócalo,” the river shined
and darkened, like
the moments of my life.
He followed me.
I ended up crying, isolated in the porch of the parish church,
protected by my bolita shawl, drenched with my tears.

millionsmillions:

“I drank because I wanted to drown my sorrows, but now the damned things have learned to swim.” - Frida Kahlo

"Memory" ("Recuerdo) by artist Frida Kahlo

I had swayed. Nothing else. But suddenly I knew

In the depth of my silence

He was following me. Like my shadow, blameless and light

In the night, a song sobbed…

The Indians lengthened, winding, through the alleys of the town.

A harp and a jacaranda were the music, and the smiling dark-skinned girls

Were the happiness

In the background, behind the “Zócalo,” the river shined

and darkened, like

the moments of my life.

He followed me.

I ended up crying, isolated in the porch of the parish church,

protected by my bolita shawl, drenched with my tears.