30 november 2018
Wounded Veils
Some question?
It always haunted me.
In combat posture,
why would I become a child?
To cry and learn a laugh?
Karma?
A green memory,
of the shade of bougainvillea's
arbor, entwining the wooden pain
of my frame, to know
the faith of water, improvidently
creating the false interiors.
How far was the home?
You want to toe the
peace of garden, blue sky
and dark night.
4 august 2025
wiesiek
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3 august 2025
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2 august 2025
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31 july 2025
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31 july 2025
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30 july 2025
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28 july 2025
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28 july 2025
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