Much in Little
I hear the old sounds, the soundless wailing You are a ghost tossing old coins The action of shadows, a poverty of spirit These bleeding hands we feel Touch me not We would see a sign: a flowering Judas The man with heavy eyes dying with a patience The wild thyme, dung, soil, and death Men and bits of paper Touch me not
Submitted by NecroGod — Jun 07, 2026
Should I speak or hold my tongue? Or do what silence requires? I should not want to spoil this with an answer No earthquakes are permissible For this particular timbre If there are no questions, there is no message An individual matter: an ear, alone, is not being To move over better waters The whole world is my temple
Submitted by NecroGod — Jun 07, 2026
To hide beauty We grow thin inside What is possessed is nothing But empty notions, curious trifles; The water is thick with monsters If anything big were like loneliness This mirage would disappear
Submitted by NecroGod — Jun 07, 2026
Tripping together with destiny Or another way, desperation A secret of leaves, love falling A good-bye of liquid Hurried beyond today We beat our course along that way And came forth to see again the stars It's an indoor game: inch closer So much is at stake with a soul We beat our course along that way And came forth to see again the stars
Submitted by NecroGod — Jun 07, 2026
As if speaking were not enough I sat beneath your window: Field of summer reeds Dry and brittle needs You clutch handfuls Elbow them into corners Was that your voice? What to avoid? We must guard against such sudden flames
Submitted by NecroGod — Jun 07, 2026