25 listopada 2018
Streaking Alone
Like sly coyotes
you move around
the fireballs. You switch off
the earthly lights. They are
now oranges. Presently
a broker will sell the wounds
of the moon.
Why did you feel sad of something
which was unsaid? A thousand
and one words will speak
when the poem would be brought
dead. You are not here
not in the nakedness of lies, when
something glitters which was not yellow.
The twilight now settles
in your eyes. Moon refuses to
plunge into darkness.
7 lipca 2025
jeśli tylko
7 lipca 2025
Toya
7 lipca 2025
wiesiek
6 lipca 2025
violetta
6 lipca 2025
wiesiek
6 lipca 2025
Yaro
5 lipca 2025
dobrosław77
5 lipca 2025
violetta
5 lipca 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
5 lipca 2025
Arsis