13 october 2019
Did Not We Cry?
Ash and smoke.
I am fever, not becoming
any sound.
Like a lichen, a mycorrhiza
on damp soil,
unfound by light.
Thriving in airless
dark. Will not see the cool―
moon of summer night.
There was no key
to find the invisible.
A random poem will see.
Your painted body
in blue scars, still
remembers the fallen roof.
23 october 2025
wiesiek
23 october 2025
wiesiek
22 october 2025
ajw
22 october 2025
Jaga
21 october 2025
Jaga
21 october 2025
wiesiek
20 october 2025
wiesiek
20 october 2025
ajw
20 october 2025
ajw
20 october 2025
Jaga