prolonging

prolonging

dead poets’ lives

winter night

frozen ground

I bury myself

in the eiderdown

listening to

what pours from her heart

winter drizzle

geese have flown away

geese have flown away

the water falls

in a deep sleep

first published in Polish in Papierowy Zuraw, December 2018

more and more

words to throw away

autumn leaves

first published in Polish in Papierowy Zuraw, December 2018

butterflies on mud

butterflies on mud

sucking poetry

from small things

September evening

the sour scent of haulm

burning in the fields

vignettes

of a faded life

sepia dusk

homeless

homeless

among the skyscrapers

autumn moon

first published in Frogpond, autumn 2018

sun on the water

a languorous swan

warms up its foot

first published in Presence, autumn 2018

warm autumn day

a robot mower wanders

in the meadow

first published in Presence, autumn 2018

wild ducks

wild ducks

on wrinkled water

light autumn wind

first published in Acorn, autumn 2018

The Stakes

You get up from the engaging game of life, you’ve lost count of time. Dirty beer glasses, greasy pizza boxes. Your eyes smart and your back is stiff. A quick look in the mirror. You’ve grown old before you’ve grown up.

distance to death as the crow flies

first published in Modern Haiku, autumn 2018

a slow walk

a slow walk

through the old churchyard

advancing autumn

first published in Cattails, October 2018

violin duet

we can barely string

two words together

first published in Cattails, October 2018

Figures

In the evening, you press your ear lobe for one minute, thinking about what’s going to change in your life. Is it wrong to keep milk in the fridge door? After supper, while he’s choosing a TV-set, scrolling through a list of fifty models, you read about five things about food you’d prefer not to know. And then seven mistakes you make in the shower. Gliding your fingers over your soapy skin, you feel for changes that should arouse vigilance.

swallowing

wads of cotton wool

pastel summer

first published in Cattails, October 2018

the Antarctic

the Antarctic

has begun to melt

cold tofu

first published in Chrysanthemum, October 2018

winter twilight

she embroiders her life

with a red thread

first published in Chrysanthemum, October 2018

Midsummer Dream

He says that talking about poetry is like farting about flowers. She prepares a candlelit supper, he drinks enough. Time for a guy to confess his love to a woman: already drunk and not puking yet.

awakening

so many tears on the grass

after a short night

first published in Chrysanthemum, October 2018