Brown town
Like a needle
Brown town
Like a need
Here people sit around
Clay figure
Here people are sitting inside
Clay figure
(reprint by ZiN Daily)
***
We are like worms we are like worms
We crawl underground
*
The weather forecast was for
Tears instead of rain
Nobody is resurrected
Dahlias have blossomed
In every petal a breath of air
In every breath of air
God was called by his patronymic
They believed in God according to the national
Calling a patch of unfortunate land a state a country
Ripe apples in the garden
Tomato juice through the veins in spring,
The weather forecast deceived
In spring, bones come down on the grass
And nothing happens
*
Snow leopard in the snow
Snow and wool glitter in the snow
The white bird turns into snow
And jumps from a height
Onto the black earth
*
The deaf write their songs in white night
Because the deaf are sighted
In the black night they rise into the sky
And recite loud lines to themselves
To not scare
Those who are happy
(reprint by Quarterly Literary Review Singapore)
***
aluminum birds
even they come back
from warm countries
(reprint by divot)
***
the rebellious spirit in my stomach gurgles and begs for alcohol
dog catching snowflakes with tongue
christmas all year round
easter around the clock
(reprint by A THIN SLICE OF ANXIETY)
***
This poem smells blue
| | |
The color of wrinkles in the sky
¶
Black shapes in clear water
∆
This verse will be picked up by crows in the morning
And they will be thrown from heaven
On icy concrete heart rocks
~
All in vain
.
(reprint by Stone Poetry Journal)
***
The naturalization of hatred
Every day the giant boulders of the brain create little sons to atone for guilt
Are sons resurrected?
The magnolia outside the window blooms expressively quietly, as if guessing something
Anger-dictatorship
I pretend to be a god every morning over a cup of coffee
Stars-blindness
Castrated calm screams in the language of stones
Motherland of life
The taste of faith
Wrath service of the gun
Stone-ruin
Time to change clothes and pick up picks
(reprint by A THIN SLICE OF ANXIETY)
***
What do you see
the inner kitten will bring the devils slippers in his teeth in the morning in exchange for
living space with Wi-Fi
what do you see being blind
the sexual joy of a mouse pressed to the floor by a cat’s paw
hate pornography with guts out
sun bunnies devoured by air wolves
What do you see
the deceased son comes every night in a dream in tears and asks to be resurrected
(reprint by A THIN SLICE OF ANXIETY)
***
Kira Muratova
The film begins after the ending, when a balding virgin takes off her wig, like a fancy dress costume, and
shoves the wig into a face on the other side of the screen.
Hungry rats need to be fed body parts.
Last but not least, feed with the brain, never with the heart.
In the last turn of people today – it is necessary to make your way. No need to push your way into
people. It is better to try to become a butterfly.
(reprint by A THIN SLICE OF ANXIETY)
***
Religion is a hobby club for those who have never died
(reprint by A THIN SLICE OF ANXIETY)
***
The secret of the soul
Secretion of guilt
Who will kiss my neck and turn me into a vampire?
The dream of a soldier who will turn a gun into a sex shop toy
Who will kiss me?
Nobody
(reprint by A THIN SLICE OF ANXIETY)
***
Mosquitoes fly to the scent of blood
So are military pilots
(reprint by A THIN SLICE OF ANXIETY)
***
There are as many explosions as there are stars in the sky
Every night to underground storage and bunkers
An alarm siren sounds
Life is wonderful as if it started from an egg and not from a dead chicken
(reprint by A THIN SLICE OF ANXIETY)
***
Copper night knocks
On the back of the head, asks:
“What street is this?”
And this is not a street,
This is the whole life.
Here at the age
Of 4 I drank sleeping pills,
At 14 I lost my virginity,
At 24 I lost my family,
At 34 my father died (thank God, my father died).
Now I’m free like the cry of a newborn.
I’m single, like when I was born.
A lonely body without everything
Meaningful, invented, composed.
The body, by its movement forward,
Has reached the very beginning.
Ashes close to dust.
And suddenly the night opens its
Lunar hood, and now death looks
At me with its bony eyes.
“Come on, friend,” I said to death,
“I hope you don’t turn me into a zombie.”
The door of cast iron milk opened.
And I started drinking.
My teeth turned black and fell out.
Birds pecked out my eyes.
My body fell off me. Copper night,
Pig-iron milk, golden memory.
And suddenly: emptiness.
(reprint by Crank)
***
We were stolen at birth and brought into this world. This world has robbed us. Cats will never again sing under the window about their nine lives in the nine circles of hell. We are no longer cats. We are no longer dogs. Only occasionally does one of us like to sit on a leash in puppy latex. We are heavy, sir. We are light, Lord, like fluff. We are airy, Lord, like chitin. We are homeless, Lord, like heaven. We are rich, Lord, like the poorest poor man. We are your angels, Lord. Wash our feet, Lord, we can’t stand you. We love you, Lord, like dogs do. We are on your leash, tied to you, Lord. We are the gods of death in your realm, Lord. Ash. The last candle for your rest in our hearts, Lord.
(reprint by Crank)
***
I take a deep
breath of spring air
after paying for it
*
And when I left,
There were still stars in the sky,
But there was no more Earth.
*
the worm in my body
pretends
I’m not there
(reprint by dyst)