5 january 2012
From The Old Farmer
Over yonder past stacks of wheat and hay
There lies the first pavements of a newly born city
Ever beautiful and frightening still
I am watching, standing like the American gothic
But with overalls and a straw hat
I fork my hay, moving it to free the image
To free the image of this paved monolithe
Flat like a laid down headstone
Indeed, a headstone to mother earth
16 may 2024
1605wiesiek
16 may 2024
O TrinitySatish Verma
15 may 2024
1505wiesiek
15 may 2024
ToastJaga
15 may 2024
Studying LifeSatish Verma
14 may 2024
NonethelessSatish Verma
13 may 2024
I Write With Red InkSatish Verma
11 may 2024
Everything Is BlackSatish Verma
10 may 2024
Wielki wypasJaga
10 may 2024
Tangerines SingSatish Verma