This book, people. I’d say this book is for the Rep├║blica Dominicana what One Hundred Years of Solitude is for Colombia.

Continued...

§205 · August 25, 2011 · It's Me, I'm Talking · (No comments) ·


An ochre haze filters up from the tree-lined horizon. The sky is large here; the earth bends on the horizon and strains to accommodate it. The sparse sounds of animals, wild and tame, flow out from nearby woods. Titters, chirps, and tap-taps issue from the trees; a feral growl and a few barks come from the leafy floor. The scorched grass surrounding the trees takes on the morning shade, and remains silent. Nearby, on the slightest incline by the tire-marked dirt road, a white-washed house with warped wood and chipped paint stands still and solitary as a sentinel.

Continued...

§121 · August 11, 2011 · Something I Wrote · (No comments) ·


“Gormenghast, that is, the main massing of the original stone, taken by itself would have displayed a certain ponderous architectural quality were it possible to have ignored the circumfusion of those mean dwellings that swarmed like an epidemic around its outer walls.”
— Mervyn Peake, 1946

Continued...

§109 · March 14, 2011 · Novels · (No comments) ·


“If I were a cinnamon peeler
I would ride your bed
and leave the yellow bark dust
on your pillow.”
— Michael Ondaatje

Continued...

§77 · January 17, 2011 · Poetry · (No comments) ·


“His flesh, immortal, is shrouded in flames,
and to him, even Death does simply nod,
him who saw the dreams and knew the names.”
— Maximilian Voloshin

Continued...

§14 · December 6, 2010 · Poetry · (No comments) ·


My name is Sean and I like odd things.

Continued...

§4 · October 9, 2010 · It's Me, I'm Talking · (No comments) ·