1 september 2019
Modesty
In fever, I will
always see butterflies
landing on your nose.
White, yellow, black.
They come and go and I am
sitting under a cherry blossom tree.
Stroking you, cajoling you
to drop the wings.
In grass the sun waits
in a dew drop.
The moon was not a poor thing.
Will come in white robes
to preach.
3 october 2025
wiesiek
3 october 2025
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3 october 2025
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2 october 2025
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2 october 2025
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2 october 2025
ajw
1 october 2025
ajw
1 october 2025
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28 september 2025
Jaga
28 september 2025
absynt