5 march 2019
Unbuttoning
Scratching the rusted face
of the dust storm-
to read the message.
I have come very far,
from the old stinks.
It was not the escape.
The unshaped sap,
spills from the cut end-
of treetops. I gather your cones.
The fall begins abruptly.
It was a landslide of
leaf drop. Yellow and brown.
I wait for the red.
It reminds me of blood
dripping from your poem.
19 march 2024
The Pain Was Not YouSatish Verma
18 march 2024
1802wiesiek
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Ruda na platynowoabsynt
18 march 2024
Art In DyingSatish Verma
17 march 2024
W gotowościJaga
17 march 2024
takie tam ćwiczenieabsynt
17 march 2024
I Will SurviveSatish Verma
16 march 2024
1603wiesiek
16 march 2024
tu i teraz, zanurzając sięTomek i Agatka
16 march 2024
Drzewo recykling 2020Marianna Małgosia Bakanowicz