Back home from the streetMy kid welcomes me at the doorThe world is a round eggA friend once told meA crowd of people suddenly emerges on the streetForcibly res
As Parmigianino did it, the right handBigger than the head, thrust at the viewerAnd swerving easily away, as though to protectWhat it advertises. A few leaded p
Poetry is about silence. Sometimes it is silence itself. The main quality here is that poetry can deal with hidden and indescribable things in its own way.