22 august 2020
Upending
Trying to quantify the vices
in you, I am becoming
brute.
Going my own way.
I join the migration
of invisibles.
A plucked tiger lily
roars. Amphibians were ready
to invade the mountain.
The curled fingers
had become question marks.
Blindness had become a bliss.
Inlaid in the redwood
lies my blood. I lived under
the branches, naked, carefree.
11 april 2026
Anthony DiMichele
11 april 2026
Anthony DiMichele
11 april 2026
Anthony DiMichele
11 april 2026
Anthony DiMichele
10 april 2026
wiesiek
10 april 2026
Jaga
10 april 2026
Jaga
9 april 2026
wiesiek
8 april 2026
Jaga
8 april 2026
wiesiek