Birds die faster than dots in poetry
The necks of letters are much longer than the necks of birds

Birds, like poetry, do not know how to beg
Birds die, but so do poems


***
The air left the composition of the sadness of the stomach
Wooden night covered the dead
Iron worms sewed up limbs with immobilization

What street is this? Why is it so dark in here?
And this is not a street, this is life and death


***
I want vegetables to die and not one child to suffer anymore at a diet dinner.


***
The meat screams at the pennant with red silence
Worms crawl out of coffins to the surface
Minced meat crawls out of the meat grinder
Corpses crawl into eyes and ears
The world around is destroyed in the pupils of the shot man
What can world poetry talk about besides war?


***
The cat tears up the mouse just for fun
A grenade tears a child apart because it has to be done

The sky moves and the clouds float forward
Mom cooks breakfast like no one is dead


***
Worms crawl underground
After the rain worms crawl to the surface

We read the letters of the rain on our faces
We crawl in a pool of blood without limbs

Winter is beginning
It's nuclear winter


***
Snow will forgive the grass everything
We'll all fall asleep in the snow and grass
We will be buried in snow and grass
But we won't have children anymore
Who will bury us?

Nuclear stations are growing like mushrooms
The forest turns white as a mouse

The ashes fall asleep
Ashes in the snow


***
Light for the blind


***
no one 
died 
in the cemetery 
again 


***
the trees are silent like the dead
before they are cut down


***
sound conservation
a bird reads a blizzard with a glance


***
cemetery without grave
almost like a church without parishioners
love without lovers
mountain without a bottom
god without religion