Итог
... ведь и Он тоже был плотником что в кружке ковбоев и рыбаков треножил их страсти без снастей и крючков.
The friendship of the enemies
Have you been reporting what you saw or just what you were told? If "yes" you are my friend. If "no" I don't know your name. As the customer looses the count of the lambs taken to the Biblical spot of a supermarket of the worlds history, where food has always been served amidst the...
A storm
the make-up of the street covered with red arabic gold; lights of the port, dumb sensation of its sirens
screaming in a deep warning voice.
Meanwhile I can see my tea pot
getting hotter as the news suggest that I stay indoors.
The passive voice of a human being has never been so quiet
as nature takes over my cup...
That thing
is never destroyed by a wildfire, as there is no wildfire strong enough to destroy that thing.
it just gives it a crispy skin with tabasco served later --
immediately after there's no beer
available.
It is a Murphy law. A gap between realities. A manifestation of a body
that grows an amputated limb at night and makes...
Kennedy’s bridge
I remember (although I was not born at that time) my granddad crying when he heard the news on JFK. And his wife held his head as she heard
Jacklin did with John's. I think of it when I cross a bridge.
As the more beauty and artistic splendor, that structure has
The more strength the symbol of...
Иловайск. Моя первая колонна.
И вот здесь, гудя всеми мостами, чихая, но из всех сил вынося нас из-под огня, и погиб наш 207-ой, врезавшись в дерево. А дерево было выбрано только по одной причине, что на дороге заглох «шишарь» минамётки, в машине – свои, вот “бэтэр” и ушел в посадку, избежав потерь.
Потом был мой отрыв от группы. Путешествие по...
Бессонница
Но бессонницы фарс куда интересней оспин Венеры на лице твоем, Марс.
Эта картина стоит того, чтоб блеснуть преломлением извне за окном, казалось, уснувшего мира; отражением этого "вне" там, где ты сам, трепыхаясь, под огнем Гауди иль врага сна своего, как на вертеле угорь вращаясь...
More than just a face from a front-page of National Geographic
Mulled taste of dark ages we're all living through now. This warm feeling of sameness
with people who know it
without ever reading
the news.
You and I.
Both of us.
Millions of us.
Plenty.
We have different accents,
but the music that shakes us inside
is the same.
Фальшивый поп
По прошествии долгих веков,
как и прежде, в шутовской одежде, наш старинный знакомый снова выбился в топ, поднимая руку не то голосуя, не то благословляя попутчиков,
бредущих по перекрестку дорог
ведущих из Магдебурга, по всей видимости, в Острог.
A Lie
lie is an expectation of a merciful assassin
unquestioned, as he arrives.
Such an unheard lie he is
and yet so common to everybody. The guy who's systematically economical with the truth. A newcomer in town, nobody knows his connections, happily doing cardio every morning before his cereal, smashed eggs and traffic jams
The fisherman’s God
The god himself probably used to be a fish once. A great, splendid shark who gave the creeps to all the smaller creatures, made them dream of safety, a stove, a little kitchenette and a digital camera
Paata, the man who didn’t shoot
“What’s that?” – I asked.
“A Parliament. Those idiots are building a house of representatives on a swamp. Can you hear that? They haven’t finished construction yet, but the MPs are already at work. “Sovieschayutsa” – he used the Russian word for counsel.
Paata split and flicked a cigarette butt it that direction.
