23 april 2021
Carrying Scars
The prediction goes awry.
I wipe away an exotic
smudge on the paper.
I was trying to fight
venom of adverbs and
adjectives.
I want to retrieve my
poem, as it was― before
the digital onslaught of beheadings.
Give me my garden room,
baby moon and spotless
needles. My blood was blind.
I would come again in
my burial mode, when
your trenches are ready.
15 march 2025
wiesiek
15 march 2025
absynt
15 march 2025
absynt
15 march 2025
ajw
14 march 2025
absynt
14 march 2025
absynt
14 march 2025
absynt
14 march 2025
jeśli tylko
14 march 2025
ajw
13 march 2025
marka