16 february 2014
MY TABOO
Hollyhocks will not let me go;
hold my hands.
Shying away
they were turning to ashes.
In the night, wisteria
emanates a hungry cry.
Though wind had announced
sun has not kept the promise.
I gasp for the body silver
like ancient lust,
pure and paranoid –
asking for the head of a spider.
This non-violent resistance
seeks more space to pasteurize
the beautiful milk in gold containers.
A passion flower was going to melt.
Satish Verma
11 april 2026
Sorrowhead (ex Cheval)
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wiesiek
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Sorrowhead (ex Cheval)
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Anthony DiMichele
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Anthony DiMichele
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Anthony DiMichele
11 april 2026
Anthony DiMichele
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wiesiek
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Jaga
10 april 2026
Jaga