8 march 2020
In Search Of Tremors
Night comes like a
black dog
around the corner.
I start paying off the debt
cry for cry, with a
ceremonial sword,
cutting off the shadows
falling from the
distant hills.
My questions are burning―
on pyre. How did I fail myself?
Why some mercy
was unacceptable to me?
Standing in midstream
I let go your hand,
and drown in quick sand of thoughts.
Now a poem will
lift me from the ruins.
28 march 2026
absynt
27 march 2026
wiesiek
25 march 2026
wiesiek
24 march 2026
marka
24 march 2026
marka
24 march 2026
marka
24 march 2026
marka
24 march 2026
wiesiek
23 march 2026
wiesiek
23 march 2026
Jaga