1 january 2020
Too Crowded Was Arena
I felt you, through your
words. Tight and
crisp. But you remained untouchable.
For thousand of years
a lity of valley
cried, to get a dove's cooing voice.
The musk deer will not
leave its domain. Some
poems were hungery of its hideout.
An ordinary day of fall
starts the inferno. Syllable
by syllable in colors.
The dilemma of drinking
the hemlock at one go.
How would I describe the ascending paralysis?
16 august 2025
wiesiek
14 august 2025
wiesiek
14 august 2025
absynt
14 august 2025
absynt
13 august 2025
wiesiek
11 august 2025
Jaga
11 august 2025
wiesiek
11 august 2025
jeśli tylko
10 august 2025
Jaga
9 august 2025
absynt