25 december 2016
Untrodden Snow
A night of one thousand moons
and I am dancing
in dark.
Circa.
My half-script was left
with you, under a scrap.
Now I am not
finding any punctuations
in the aerie.
At unknown heights
wake me up in blue depths
when sun does not rise.
Stones placed on hyacinth
will not bury the scent.
I might bring another red spike.
28 february 2025
marka
28 february 2025
marka
28 february 2025
marka
28 february 2025
marka
28 february 2025
marka
28 february 2025
wiesiek
28 february 2025
absynt
28 february 2025
ajw
28 february 2025
ajw
27 february 2025
marka