10 march 2012
Washed-Out
Slashing the surged monarchy
of celibates
stoking the fire of wounds,
the turret locks on to a target
taking off the gloves.
The mountain was rising.
A sheet of the floating ice
disturbs the ecology
of heart. I place my candle in storm.
The missils had failed.
Only the words were flying from
bare lips for entreaties.
Oversexed like a shoe-flower
O, mad enemy
I am pouring out the red sea.
Satish Verma
2 april 2026
wiesiek
1 april 2026
wiesiek
30 march 2026
absynt
29 march 2026
absynt
29 march 2026
absynt
28 march 2026
absynt
24 march 2026
marka
24 march 2026
marka
24 march 2026
marka
24 march 2026
marka