29 maja 2012
Rendezvous
Wanting more of you
in the bed of moon,
where present and past
were disrobing.
The bee stings, O my god,
arrange the pure darkness
of milk,
hanging on persona of future.
The yielding was painful,
its blankness. You were
collecting the hooks. I was letting
free the fish.
Green was my perch
on the white paper,
rewriting your name without ink
for the sake of hunting the lamp.
Satish Verma
22 kwietnia 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
21 kwietnia 2025
Arsis
21 kwietnia 2025
Marcin Olszewski
21 kwietnia 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
21 kwietnia 2025
wiesiek
21 kwietnia 2025
Trepifajksel
20 kwietnia 2025
Bernadetta
20 kwietnia 2025
Bezka
19 kwietnia 2025
sam53
19 kwietnia 2025
wiesiek