24 marca 2019
Long-Feared Night
Eyes half-shut, you are seeing,
unseeing to house the failing light.
When the tornado writhes down, will
you come to clean the rubble?
And splash the bird, the sky in purple?
I am afraid of myself
to explore the craft of non-living.
When the silence descends, I will
know myself, like the bone of Buddha.
The words will not give
any relief, whipped into terror.
26 listopada 2025
sam53
26 listopada 2025
sam53
26 listopada 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
25 listopada 2025
Anthony DiMichele
25 listopada 2025
Anthony DiMichele
25 listopada 2025
sam53
25 listopada 2025
sam53
25 listopada 2025
Jaga
25 listopada 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
24 listopada 2025
wiesiek