8 marca 2015
PAPYRUS
Let me go first in the cave
to see the hollow-eyed, bird-face,
my ancestor, relic of reclusive
committment, eaten by hierarchical
grass, inch by inch.
Calories burn to free the bones
from the green pond, beached, skinned
and fished alive for a weird ritual
offering rice, flowers, tamarind and wheat.
Bald, hungry eyes were looking at approvingly.
I was searching unself papyrus,
to print the tale of agonising
travel of a small colossus, from
night to night to track a dragging sun
in mud and water.
O, groaning seed, you are the paradox.
Neither tree, nor root, only a promise
to destroy the fear. I will wait till the next
sun-eclipse, when you turn
outside into inside!
8 lipca 2025
wiesiek
8 lipca 2025
sam53
8 lipca 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
7 lipca 2025
jeśli tylko
7 lipca 2025
Toya
6 lipca 2025
violetta
6 lipca 2025
Yaro
5 lipca 2025
dobrosław77
5 lipca 2025
violetta
5 lipca 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta