11 grudnia 2020
Scars
There was obsession, to wash your
hands again and again.
They swing wildly.
The moods.
Betel leaves, and bad grammar.
Charity untainted.
Divided walls.
A street breaks the steps.
Nails scratching the rosary.
The stranded words,
will not sit on the wide screen.
The damp soil becomes dark.
No gift was needed-
unmaking the wasp's nest.
I bend down to light the lamp.
25 marca 2026
wiesiek
24 marca 2026
sam53
24 marca 2026
marka
24 marca 2026
marka
24 marca 2026
marka
24 marca 2026
marka
24 marca 2026
marka
24 marca 2026
wiesiek
24 marca 2026
smokjerzy
23 marca 2026
wiesiek