25 września 2013
DARK CORNERS
On a wrinkled trajectory
the blood averts to abstract remission,
I am out of place in time and history.
Try to nudge the jumping ants
with their cyberweapons
ready to strike the antique nectaries
of judgements. The predators were
coming. Killing for long necks and
pinkish lips. You envision a period..
of dearth for visage, for phrases
of dead skins: I start dismembering
the past, contained in future.
This was a total disaster of unknowing,
adrift between the fingers;
sands of time, ungrained, unwatered.
Satish Verma
28 grudnia 2025
wolnyduch
28 grudnia 2025
wiesiek
28 grudnia 2025
sam53
28 grudnia 2025
sam53
27 grudnia 2025
marka
27 grudnia 2025
marka
27 grudnia 2025
marka
27 grudnia 2025
marka
27 grudnia 2025
marka
27 grudnia 2025
wiesiek