11 march 2018
Nothing Left To Hide
Your skin was involved─
in recent string of shadows, throwing
the white shrouds on unknown
faces. The visibility
becomes a threat, plying like a black river
via stone links.
Your muscles twitch and
convulse. An invisible hand
writes the judgement. A silent
November looms large.
I will wait for the snow to
fall silently on the sun-dial.
Like silent shedding of petals
counting the dew drops on grass.
A tree of bones walks
from death to death. Me standing
on crossroads, on the moon’s path
trying to learn the mistakes.
18 february 2019
absynt
18 february 2019
hossa
18 february 2019
absynt
18 february 2019
Satish Verma
17 february 2019
absynt
17 february 2019
bielebny
17 february 2019
. .
17 february 2019
absynt
17 february 2019
Satish Verma
16 february 2019
wiesiek