13 august 2020
Celebrating Dark
I do not write about something
or anything. You will
not knock at my door.
I will be pained, if
you sweep the floor, to
tout the unwritten song.
I sing wordlessly. Even
the echo will open
the waning wounds.
My body, I give to
hawks, to escape the
elegies in the death well.
Even the night
will bring the pillow
for the dying moon.
24 november 2024
2411wiesiek
23 november 2024
0012.
22 november 2024
22.11wiesiek
22 november 2024
Pod miękkim śniegiemJaga
22 november 2024
Liście drzew w czerwonychEva T.
21 november 2024
21.11wiesiek
21 november 2024
Światełka listopadaJaga
19 november 2024
Niech deszcz śpiewa ci kołysankę.Eva T.
19 november 2024
1911wiesiek
19 november 2024
Jeden mostJaga