9 czerwca 2016
Landscape
Thinking was seeing through the time,
was a lone journey from naïve
understanding. Return was difficult,
back to bricks and forlorn shores.
How many beginnings had failed;
the doors locked, cobwebs, dust, smoke,
crowded with dangling hopes. Flywheels
broken. DNA twisted, life – in – heaps.
The purpose, warts and all, salvation,
as long as footnotes guided between
restless nights. Melancholy of space in
the bed. Silence of portraits.
A peacock explodes, defining the boundary,
then a chorus of approval. An owl hoots.
The candle kisses the creases of dark.
Moon swells.
20 sierpnia 2025
smokjerzy
20 sierpnia 2025
Bezka
19 sierpnia 2025
absynt
19 sierpnia 2025
sam53
19 sierpnia 2025
Yaro
19 sierpnia 2025
sam53
19 sierpnia 2025
ais
18 sierpnia 2025
sam53
18 sierpnia 2025
Yaro
18 sierpnia 2025
Jaga