14 may 2012
SEEKING
The falling poem was
in bruising gamble of winter
of troubled life,
bound to a staircase:
up and down
up and down,
on the rosette of grieving thighs.
From sunset to sunset
a moon rises in all its glory
as the night flows in crevices of thoughts.
Will you lift the veil from the golden face
and sacrifice the lamb?
The infinite was waiting to come out of crotch.
Satish Verma
24 april 2025
wiesiek
23 april 2025
wiesiek
22 april 2025
wiesiek
21 april 2025
wiesiek
19 april 2025
wiesiek
19 april 2025
Eva T.
18 april 2025
jeśli tylko
17 april 2025
Eva T.
15 april 2025
ajw
15 april 2025
Marian Banaszak