13 july 2017
Into The Tempest
The dichotomy was complete.
I walk in your tears
to move away.
The night smelt like a
burnt-out doll, and I was
quaking inside like a peony lip.
The sunk baby. You stay
uncovered in half-sleep.
The drag of the noose around-
your neck was evident. I
want to squeeze the pods.
Why did not the pollen meet-
the stigma? The needles are
coming out of the eyes. A prose
is gone. The poem walks in.
8 august 2025
absynt
8 august 2025
absynt
8 august 2025
wiesiek
7 august 2025
wiesiek
7 august 2025
Jaga
6 august 2025
absynt
6 august 2025
absynt
6 august 2025
absynt
6 august 2025
absynt
6 august 2025
absynt