8 november 2021
From The Flames
Under your eyes
shadows, my poems curl up.
When do I call you?
From wires, tiny drops
of dew hang perilously.
Sun was going to kiss.
First I take you, then
I will cry for the last time.
Going to meet the gods.
2 february 2026
wiesiek
1 february 2026
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30 january 2026
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20 january 2026
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19 january 2026
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18 january 2026
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11 january 2026
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4 january 2026
Jaga
31 december 2025
wiesiek