30 october 2022
Your Generosity
The yellow jasmines
are dead. My ache returns.
My language does't
speak. My agony will describe
the authentic death.
It is a long prose.
One eye sticks out from
the socket to read clearly.
The see-through veil
leaks the story, which can't
be taken to the beautiful
end.
First you grill the
moon, then ask for the
slanted answer. Love takes
off the makeup.
How long the poems
will cry?
18 september 2025
wiesiek
17 september 2025
wiesiek
16 september 2025
wiesiek
16 september 2025
absynt
16 september 2025
absynt
15 september 2025
wiesiek
14 september 2025
wiesiek
13 september 2025
wiesiek
12 september 2025
wiesiek
9 september 2025
absynt