*** the bird accidentally dropped the heart and broke it on the rocks ¶ heaven turned inside out and swallowed the rain ~ my mother did not return from work and became a seagull in the eyes of the beholder ± the house turned into the wind and rushed away with turmoil . a lot has changed since the beginning of the last war … *** Babies in the sun… A lemon-yellow lake with a dusty children’s bed… By burning the colors drawn in the mind in this way – scary, but at the same time kind, merciful, kind, soft – he brings clouds of darkness into the world. *** On a piece of unexpected despair Searching for the source of the pain Tearing out of the body either the heart or the liver Be an ataria be an ataria *** Girl watching from the window The girl is watching from the eye Girl watching the window The window is watching the girl Parallel lines do intersect In infinity, a star rises to the sky ... A round stone vault comes close to her, and the girl understands that before her is not fear, but something else ... She recognizes the night sky, huge, illuminated by stars, the forest, raindrops on the branches and everything that connected to him. *** girl asks her mother to become a priest but the priest is a man girl asks her husband not to go to war but the war has already come to their house girl crying the girl does not ask for anything the girl has nothing to ask *** the cat walks along the cemetery of smiles the mimicry of memory plays the piano of silence four-legged foyer of the human soul in search of the owner of the hotel of death what will a cat find in a place where there is nothing the grave exists for the sake of absence memory exists in the form of an absence flowers of dead views grow near the monuments the trees sway their leaves and drop their leaves down to die crunch of foliage-bones under the cat's paw cat childishly playing with a leaf adult cat plays with someone's soul the wrong side of the universe in the cemetery the cat freezes and calms down the cat falls asleep among the graves a leaf that has fallen from a tree whispers a request for help to the wind *** Every morning I suck my rifle's dick like Тhere was no war *** i want oratorio gas i want to catch the color corpse syntax I want the tree to get hurt from the leaves of a famous herb GRASS is glass GRASS is a house where you are expected at dawn in the forest we collect the guts of the dead soldiers at dawn in the forest we collect the rustle of dead leaves *** i hate things because they can be missing I hate things because they may not live red a black swan swims up and waves its wing branch blue white air is transparent and pure black conscience is empty and transparent оrange more than anything in the world I love porn actors and when world-famous directors die *** The knot on the neck of the rope is compressed The crunch of bones that cannot be filled with any passion Someone in a golden gaze mask stands by a silver fire Someone pours semen on the mint from which we were born The latex of the night sky puckers at the hips A casual smile puffs with mystery The heather rises up like a phallus The clouds part in front of a couple in love with life *** stone-ruin instead of houses houses built of stone became ordinary stones back to the stones that started it all be patient and silent like stones be a stone soldier sucks blowjob with his gun time to change and grab shovels *** she was called narnia the word was hung with thorns of roses the word was broken on the air spaces of people weighty rises up the bell without hearing an eye without a miracle a word without a voice where are we flying? she was called narnia every time I go to the zoo I skip three lines in a poem once two three to make sure that in front of me is the same lion that this is the same world in which you want to escape from reality *** The grains of the hourglass tomb are strained Glory to you death - a non-existent evil wizard screamed wildly All wizards are actually kind But what is it? — The thorns of the flower on the body left spots They called on purpose tears And there is no one to devote tears Oh if tears were words Chronicle of wet fingers cancels this course of events Draw your swords Evil wizards exist - we will look for them in the forests In villages and farms In texts and prayers In yourself and others And when we meet birds on the way Then the birds will shout that it is empty inside and out - Inside and out, for all these years of wandering and wandering the wizard died
Winner of the international competition «Art Against Drugs», bronze medalist of the festival Chestnut House, laureate of the literary competition named after Tyutyunnik. Nominated for Pushcart Prize.
Published in the journals “Dzvin”, “Ring A”, “Polutona”, “Rechport”, “Topos”, “Articulation”, “Formaslov”, “Colon”, “Literature Factory”, “Literary Chernihiv”, Tipton Poetry Journal , Stone Poetry Journal, Divot journal , dyst journal, Superpresent Magazine, Allegro Poetry Magazine, Alternate Route , Better Than Starbucks Poetry & Fiction Journal, Littoral Press , Book of Matches , on the portals “Literary Center” and “Soloneba”, in the “Ukrainian literary newspaper”, Ice Floe Press.