Run, river, run, river, run
Let your waters carry me.
Let your melody and let me
Find an end to her journey in the ocean.
Mateusz Świstak River
Małgorzata Hillar The Flying Carpet
On the corner of Gold and Green Streets
in the restaurant
I met a famous writer
Why are you sad
he asked
is it love that makes you unhappy?
God damn love!
I answered
I don't have a job
I am looking for a job
When you get angry
you have such flashes
and great-grandmother's profile from the portrait.
You can stay with me if you like.
And he paid
for my burger
I left moved to tears
I saved money
on the burger
So I bought some fabric for a skirt
It was a cheap material
heavy as homespun fabric
thick as homespun fabric
Intended for carpets
Yellow color was like wasps
Green color was
like the eyes of a familiar cat
Now everyone is talking
what an original skirt!
original
just stings a little
in thighs
But I wear it every day
Maybe one day
It will turn into a magic carpet
and I will fly on it
straight into the happy land
Leopold Staff Night Sky
Black night silver night.
World without end
In time and space.
The middle of the Milky Way.
Doesn't it pass us all?
Passes human conception.
mannequins have unseeing breasts
the shape of calves like a taut string
ringing forever
in the same cool tone
mannequins have finite hair
and slender faces
inward looking
from underneath the lowered eyelids
mannequins
scorn the crowd
they do not tremble
perfect in their existence
immobile
they spread the fingers of moments
over the passing chroma of silk
with faces glued to shop windows
under a dress
under a rustling dress
i am a splendid supple mannequin
Halina Poświatowska Mannequins
migratory birds
the summer cottage's key
under the doormat
Marta Chociłowska Migratory birds
Holy, holy
dust on the road
mud in the shoes
a joint in the teeth
a wine in a pocket
the second one in the backpack
the sun at its zenith over Life
singing larks
in the highest
and on earth
sad
grey
and sucks
with a bunch of withered roses
stolen on request
by himself
for herself