And there will be healing bread
As if nothing happened
Like an ellipsis1
And this half decent summer of mine
Which has one first name
And one last name
Lips puckered up
The thread goes into the needle
Not just life-it’s a fair in the town of Sorochi
We fell in love overseas
Grieved for grief
Threw a short-lived spark upwards
Painted little houses with unsober paints
We called ourselves mushrooms, climbed into storage rooms
We wandered worlds like fleas on the back of a head
We triumphantly roamed around in unwashed cups
Through overworked minds
Through scared bodies
On rotting ceilings
We fell out, one after another, like baby teeth
Letting out a breath and a cry
We bubbled like dirty coins
In the turned-out2 pockets of wooden suits
Boiling, mighty, undefeated by anyone
Like pots burned by gods
And behind our backs we hid
Skis on porches
Sleds
Sleighs
Fairy tales
Arabic stories
On the seventh day he got so fucking tired of everything:
Let it all bloom rapidly, intestines out
To the north, to the east, to the west, to the south
Let it come suddenly
Like never before
Let it come right out the throat
Right out of the mirror
And gruesomely dislodge out from under the skin
Fibers of wood and flesh
My absurd self-willed joy
THE BLOOD CURDLING spring!..
To peck wide-eyed oats at sunrise
To kiss unrestrainable palms at sunset
Stomp your foot
And all the windows and doors will come flying the fuck out
Eyes, forks, spoons
And foldable little knives
There’s yet another silly story of love
A sad little tale about a piggy bank
A funny story about how Svidrigailov
was about to go to America
He was lucky, like a mirror reflecting a fire
Festive, like a full moon clutched in a sweaty fist
Long awaited, like a loud ring of snakes
The one and only, like a little word thrown into a sentence
Wonderful, like a hundred voluntary years
Of solitude.
1. ellipsis is the name for three dots, as in ...2. as in, turned inside out