Cast this air into the night…by G. Mramor

Cast this air into the night…by G. Mramor

  Cast this air into the night. Author these words for the wind. Dream the dying dream. Fore there is no war made with wind. There is only this.   Red knuckles biting with hoar. Thumbs dicking raw scabs. Pink hands peeling from the web. Fore the rose light soars this dreamflight. But no war [...]

They are coming…by G. Mramor

They are coming…by G. Mramor

The tranquil flow of the village is no more. The market is overflowing with people. Their bulk rises up against the carts and stands. Those at the back push in. Children are sent through legs and one pushes another and the tables turn and the children are trampled. Men and women push and pull at [...]