15 july 2022
Unlike Anybody
In your painting the
silence of death was very loud.
I will call a poem.
Hold it down, your horse
power. Floodgates will open to
let out ugly ducklings.
In moonlight― I may
sit on the sand dune to listen,
the silent, inner voice.
Lines on your forehead
are getting deeper. May I
call the nightingale?
25 november 2025
Anthony DiMichele
25 november 2025
Anthony DiMichele
25 november 2025
Jaga
24 november 2025
wiesiek
23 november 2025
wiesiek
23 november 2025
Jaga
22 november 2025
wiesiek
21 november 2025
wiesiek
20 november 2025
wiesiek
20 november 2025
Jaga