10 lutego 2015
OF A VIRGIN GOD
Partly clad
full moon
was taking a bath on hills.
Trees were waiting
for the curtains to rise.
Scented stars would make
giant scars on the clouds,
I would make peace with the sky.
Lids of human greed were laden
with golden dust, I was hoisting the skull.
Of a virgin god who did not
want to live for the blotched up creation.
The decline was obvious. Truth
had refused to climb
on the sky-blue, salted peaks of springs.
Body had arrived,
mourners quietly wailing.
Gouged eyes could not decipher
the script on the halved pyramid.
Sun was sucking the clay.
23 kwietnia 2025
wiesiek
23 kwietnia 2025
Bernadetta
23 kwietnia 2025
Bernadetta
22 kwietnia 2025
wiesiek
22 kwietnia 2025
Yaro
22 kwietnia 2025
Yaro
22 kwietnia 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
21 kwietnia 2025
Arsis
21 kwietnia 2025
Marcin Olszewski
21 kwietnia 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta