3 july 2018
Scraping The Dimness
Like a prune, it was
an old year, standing
before me. You start
counting the wrinkles.
In shift, you become
the problem, cannot read
the jigsaw. It had
uprooted the faith.
I was terribley upset, the
birds had not returned
to the lake this winter; what
do I do, I was talking to moon.
A new misty morning. I take a
small foot, set myself in the
god's hour and start
planting the bulbs of tulips.
29 july 2025
wiesiek
28 july 2025
Jaga
28 july 2025
wiesiek
28 july 2025
absynt
28 july 2025
absynt
28 july 2025
absynt
28 july 2025
absynt
28 july 2025
absynt
27 july 2025
wiesiek
26 july 2025
wiesiek