purple blaufränkisch

when finishing a piece of


be it canvas/ drawing/a book

of poetry or prose –

he left behind a piece of


drops of sweat turn into crystals

footprints in nature

forever embedded in trees

that grew upon –

tiredness felt

aftermath of his climax

a slight sense of loss

like after a petite mort –

the inner voice demands

to continue

there’ lots to do still

yet his body protests

takes to the streets of his


while sipping a glass of

purple Blaufränkisch

he’ll recover in body and


constantly in dialogue

with his muse.




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