25 november 2018
Streaking Alone
Like sly coyotes
you move around
the fireballs. You switch off
the earthly lights. They are
now oranges. Presently
a broker will sell the wounds
of the moon.
Why did you feel sad of something
which was unsaid? A thousand
and one words will speak
when the poem would be brought
dead. You are not here
not in the nakedness of lies, when
something glitters which was not yellow.
The twilight now settles
in your eyes. Moon refuses to
plunge into darkness.
16 december 2025
wiesiek
15 december 2025
wiesiek
15 december 2025
Jaga
14 december 2025
wiesiek
14 december 2025
jeśli tylko
13 december 2025
wiesiek
12 december 2025
wiesiek
12 december 2025
Eva T.
11 december 2025
wiesiek
10 december 2025
Anthony DiMichele