poetry

poetry

Every poem is a coat of arms. It must be deciphered. How much blood, how many tears in exchange for these axes, these muzzles, these unicorns, these torches, these towers, these martlets, these seedlings of stars and these fields of blue!

Every poem is a coat of arms. It must be deciphered. How much blood, how many tears in exchange for these axes, these muzzles, these unicorns, these torches, these towers, these martlets, these seedlings of stars and these fields of blue!

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

This is the city, and I am one of the citizens/Whatever interests the rest interests me

This is the city, and I am one of the citizens/Whatever interests the rest interests me

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

It is sweet to think I was a companion in an expedition that never ends

It is sweet to think I was a companion in an expedition that never ends

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

Failure: the renewable resource.

Failure: the renewable resource.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

If you can not be a poet, be the poem.

If you can not be a poet, be the poem.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

Tears upon the dry sponge of heartdo not prove I am Promethean.

Tears upon the dry sponge of heartdo not prove I am Promethean.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

But for their cries,The herons would be lostAmidst the morning snow.

But for their cries,The herons would be lostAmidst the morning snow.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

On I’ll pass,dragging my huge love behind me.On whatfeverish night, deliria-ridden,by what Goliaths was I begot – I, so bigand by no one needed?

On I’ll pass,dragging my huge love behind me.On whatfeverish night, deliria-ridden,by what Goliaths was I begot – I, so bigand by no one needed?

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

we're lost where the mind can't find usutterly lost

we're lost where the mind can't find usutterly lost

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

Poetry is prose in slow motion.

Poetry is prose in slow motion.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

I am inhabited by a cry. Nightly it flaps outLooking, with its hooks, for something to love.

I am inhabited by a cry. Nightly it flaps outLooking, with its hooks, for something to love.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

One! two! and through and throughThe vorpal blade went snickersnack!He left it dead, and with its headHe went galumphing back.

One! two! and through and throughThe vorpal blade went snickersnack!He left it dead, and with its headHe went galumphing back.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

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