Surfutur. Aesthetics Of The Absurd

He was thirsty...  water or fire
the brick dream dripped silence into the palm of the day.

The phone floated in it almost alive
he silently waited to steal peace and sleep
and running around the table in fear
waves of ripples blew bubbles to the bottom
                     
And the words ran on the keys
and the thought sank but floated
somewhere in the distance somewhere in the ceiling
that it would grow some sense in the grain.

An ordinary table an ordinary chair an ordinary bed
and 200 cans of soup Warhol put in a row

An ordinary person an ordinary room ordinary wonders
the trees are like lanterns with spiders weaving telephone wires in them

Elephant takes bath green fish nibble grass 
clouds creep into the brain walls fall into the void

The cigarette is finished the tea is finished the Lemonade is brewed
the whole town falls through the door and into hell

The table often laughs sprouting fresh books mushrooms
uniform music creeps mold into raw minds 

Mirrors are ears they hear everything and everywhere
like someone breeding or twitching in a loop..

Clouds steamers homes in hallways hangers and bodies
sometimes brains or umbrellas and other weird stuff

And forgetting the extra necessary only with you carrying
an ordinary person rolls back and forth in his rooms.

The house is filled with emptiness...  the House has no wings
will not be able to fly out the window will have to live as it is

Thread draught patterns weaves of brick
while the shadow of the key creeps into the door lock 
                                                     
Here      connected by a cross stained    walls
their eyes were covered with darkness they were bricked up doors

Here the puddles returned to the rain splashing smaller
drop by drop they flowed away smiling at something

Shrouded in candle flame shadow looking around chilly
she wove patterns of silence and warmed herself with it

And the crest fell and ran where not to tell
through the voice only wheezed, but that did not make out.

The dishes ran away huddled in a flock and crouched in corners
she followed with her sharp gaze...  on the sides
         
The lighted wall closed the shadow ran down the bronze.
light bulb    it looked worn but still warm and alive

And the sofa in that corner is big-eyed
a rustic chair a rustic table
just a giant china cabinet.
                                              brownish-empty

Frozen landscape under the paint of day...    darkened
the parquet gleamed like ice... paled

It seemed to me like merging with butter...  he was trembling all over
and the leaf of the wall swayed...  and still dreamed         

Bricks dripping into the hole ...  water jet               
the moth's days slipped away...  slave of love
                 
He collected grass from passersby...    to give it to her
in this mysterious garden ...                                    
                               
And down there the visitor was clutching a cane.
full-length polyphonic
                            the madman was not simple.

It flowed like Spider gas...      wall of hands
he hungrily caught and ate flies...  obedient servants

And the eyelids of the walls gave ripples...        his eyes
he believed them like a child...  empty words
                     
The day stealer stole the dew from the Blue grasses
and the sun is no more    in their half-bent arms                           

How the heat dripped on the ice.
so the snow burned losing all words
compressed lips back bent tired day
sad that laziness prevents him from being even

And falling from the open window in flight melted the last tear
the fly in the Spider's clutches had a warm yearning in its eyes.

Such a kind good fortune a typical day in the palms of sleep
it rolled a little forward but sometimes the plant ended in it.

In a quiet lake overhead 
a glass on a long stem sinks in the waves
reflecting the falling snow and its blue dust

Artificial peepers flutter carelessly in the heart of the cyclone
yellow crawls out    red crawls underground again

A glow drips onto the boiling city from somewhere above
it flows somewhere and then comes back from below again

Slastoverets Mr. deputy completely caressed the children of God
they became lazy fat and forgot the smell of their home

Hungry eyes teeth biting the greasy air in hunger
closed in a triangle gnawed dry it    black Echo

Droplets of light sucked at the salt-coated shadows.
obedient children in their quiet crib cage swing

Gnawed teeth water teeth water gnawed
they were terribly cold but they didn't care    lived                                                                 

at the North Pole  I twisted my arms with a bang
my tears flies to the ceiling dripped crawled there sat...
                                    and somewhere even further away then flew flew flew.           

Clown evil shadow climbs in the morning in the window
pouring light deep into the face

Buckets right in the brain bastard prevents sleep
smiling reptile in his full mouth

Blue toxic cat drips like honey into the palm of your hand
smothers a frozen lump in his throat with his tail

Sheets are like water frozen by a skating rink
and then you're sliding down onto the table...

Slender cattle yells their songs
here it is beauty ...  few people will only understand 

Buttons curvature wings shiburshit
a butterfly like a tear falls and screams

In his skull a choir sings.
he is no longer alive but there are people living in the world

In order not to breathe at all, the mouth was sewn with a thread
used to be tongue weak and now ugly.

Is  it  possible  not  to  let  circumstances  take 
control  over  you?  As  if  they  really 
obey... 

An extraordinarily beautiful woman lying in a soft bed
she meowed as she jumped to the floor and ran to the kitchen for breakfast.

Her satin-white skin was suddenly translucent.
and immediately all the thoughts floating in her head became visible

Disappearing into thin air is an old shabby cat
suddenly he reappeared and took the woman with him.

Brick paper which covered the room
in places it fell off and let guests inside

Some of them were sitting comfortably on the floor
and drank green tea with pieces of roasted bergamot

Spreading its wings inside the woman is a strange white bird
I tried to fly but there was nowhere to fly

Dangling our legs from the statue of liberty we looked down and dreamed too
somewhere to fly away but common sense said Don't

A strange creature as if composed of
out of hundreds of blue butterflies passed by

Her lashes fluttered slightly, barely covering her eyes.
apart from them, there was nothing on the body

The phone rang but instead of a voice
water flowed from the tube and the bell was reset

Naked beautiful woman in only a fur coat
she waved and climbed a tree.

The hunter shot the hare and for some reason immediately died
but the hare remained intact and became president.

A flower suddenly sprouted from a huge Scarlet Bud.
the Blue Bear got out and flew away to collect honey

The ring on her little finger moved and tickled pleasantly.
bit off a finger and crawled into a pocket

On the cloud grew a tree from which an apple fell
and broke the tall building on the mountain where the hare lived. 

Then it started raining which ended the war
but it became boring and the hare started a new one

In the water where the blue butterflies lived
suddenly there was a drought and everyone died

The black man bent down and waited for something for a long time
and when it was over for some reason it turned white.     

Tetris in Broken City plays
putting puzzles out of what jumps and flies

Spilled and smeared on the table keyboard
fingers hammered    wrung out dilapidated like a sculpture…

How much she needed did not dream not a hammer not a miner
God only knows its delicate architecture

A completely new iPhone finger drowned in itself
although if I could I would bite my hand off

He blows bubbles with women inside the ball
they fly along the city streets ringing and chattering

Sometimes the bubbles break and rain down
from the shards of glass monsters happily crawl out.

Spitting image    in cast iron    sinful Oh sinful..
the monument itself ... hung upside down
in the mailbox    silence in the whiskers of a wise Herring
a symbol of the curvature of a boat sunk in a storm

Quivering inside the brain they sprout towers
clinging to the clouds breaking apart
and crumbling down    splinters paint the Earth
burgundy and blue    with green mold laziness 

A draught creeps into the house it moves its lips
he chases and chases her and then he raves about her
squeezing the wind in the leaves rustling the branches in pain
and crumbling so freezes covered with salt

A flame floating from afar in the numb air
reminds me of clouds in the mirror of the ocean
buckets of bells noise spilled in drops
this is not a thunderstorm but definitely already a rake.

You can say it was not...  there was only an outline
consisting of many people who are constantly
they crawled somewhere, did something, thought something...
some wore clothes, some had tattoos...
and some themselves in turn consisted of
all sorts of junk    proteins of cheese and even sometimes from balloons.

But the most interesting thing was something else...  she never was
the same...  yesterday it consisted of autumn leaves
with very kind brown eyes, and the day before yesterday she was
a shoal of fish sardines .... but then the fish swam away somewhere
the leaves withered and today's  people are already slowly
they began to spread and balloons began to take their place...

They were very unusual balls some were made of stone some
out of the water...their form was perfect varied from ordinary
nothing unremarkable watermelons to some complex hinges
gears and even Egyptian hieroglyphs...
but they had something in common...  they could all fly...

Lightning and thunderstorm cuts the silence 
porcelain  Dragonfly crashes into the void 

Gently spills onto the floor Spider leaving its nest 
and from the depths of his eight eyes, a strangely lively warmth flows out
                                                   
In a room with blue echoes, he lays his eyes on the table
the reflection of his pupils wraps everything in a white cocoon of peace

In two mirrors a star sinks    but he doesn't scream
rolling her eyes pensive silent

Only the whisper of someone else's wings is heard throwing out the window
quietly all alone he chews his silver

Well, you my Seraphim boat drowned ...
he threw an oar into the water and swam home drunk

Where is the sheep pen that spawned you
where is the old fire that loved you so much

Mercury striped scarf wind itself killed
and so  he lay by the rocks, a strangled Harlequin.

Sand covered the window offering itself to breathe
it's a funny pity not to run away.   

Instead of laundry on a line in the bathtub
fragments of a naked voice - monologue hang down
and a skin mask with a painted face made of foam rubber 

She was a soul in the former water stood
the Roman deity listened.
        nechert Sorry Not understanding

Old voices dead of fate spoke
carried religious nonsense...  solace Rotten Fed

Idleness wept like a baby her gaze wandered 
mixing neighbor with neighbor his lips caressing

Everything was boiled steamed divided into ten
in the cold, the Scarlet kneaded into a sickly sweet muck.

         
2.16. 

Bystrokhot breaking teeth itself is now called
you sprinkle it with black pepper and it remains white as it was

Thousands of his paws on the porcelain whiteness of the table.
they crawl drowning in what once lived and flew..

Cephalopod stepping carefully into the sand…
slowly crumbles and dies almost disappearing..

Lips clenched.
with his rude claw
squeezes and cuts words
that climb out
          swearing obscenities
                      like miners
                          into the light of day

No one knows them 
                      no one saw them
they live in the dark
wild children of the night
walking the Earth

*
*
*

Hand with a cigar.....smokes
then naked then to the moon.....  grumbles
smiling at her washing her face
screams spin    me
                                                            deep in blue
  And then 
with the greed of a dog    in the bend
feet parchment wrapped wings 
mouth teeth will curl as if 
he is not he and there is no sign of him
who is there who heard us....... 
                              lying bastard ssssssilno
vychugun waltzes in rattled 
it burns    in the flames of time 
come out shouts for me for the fireman
set fire to suffocate will be hot I 

who would take him into the herd 
I'm not  I'm screaming      and don't
exhaled oxygen was gone
and it's still not enough for him.

Through the open door, the rain slowly creeps into the room
cirrus clouds with thunderstorms dropping drops of trembling

In the room silhouettes with rivers waterfalls of fire
farmers with tractors and mugs up to the ceiling

A room as small as a world as small as a box for your ring
living her own life and running away to the fields
 
The months there are confused beyond December to May
August snow and lightning January Mars-February 

As if as if 
  the Mirror became water
and spilled on the floor with a tear
it would open the door to a strange world very strange 

As if as if 
wings grew and you became a bee
the one who lost her swarm
and became very, very bad

As if as if
buzzing    above your head
became a leafy feature
separating her world  from being just different.

The eagle spread the rocks crushing the walls 
a thousand tones of his glory shuddered with wings.
at first he who painted the picture thought that this would not be enough
and without noticing he drew a bird hovering over the mountains
painted mountains and rocks painted avalanches and Sky 
painted a world full of raging foam glory.

I'm delirious with a line on white
                                    breathing bottomless 
dissolving into the stones 
                                        and I believe
which is exactly the way it should be 
        on splinters spilled                                   
                           
crawl
            on them knees
                    jump on them with your feet
crumble into dust with your fingers
          breathing in the whole abyss
                    so that tears already appeared

Mountain juice drink at the breast of the city waterfall at the feet flowing down
through the gorges boil the streets never ever getting cold

We knew a lot about small things and small things we knew about big things
we did not know the simple only about the complex and the complex did not know about the simple…

*

The quiet whisper of the desert will dispel the wind of emptiness
your eyes will give me hope... 
                                                                      your words will give silence

*

The city is just a mirage    running along its edge
this is some kind of whim...    I play with him
a deserted wild beach...  I'm lying on it 
                                                                                                                                            then I die.

Inside is far from empty
everything is having fun and not at all sad
a living field covered with flowers
swaying like a fish flapping thousands of their hands mouths

Happy birthday horseradish the personal has now become common
the root of the problems has grown into a tree and we are not timid 
the HSE is now a brothel and canteen for prostitutes
but this is not our business we will go into the woods and shoot    Ducks

The episode when Boney cooks dumplings in tea will be tomorrow
today we make voluminous hips    and Basta

She lives inside a peaceful atom...  life inside a molecule is not sugary
services of grain growers are expensive as much as possible    dolls as always do Nehera

cabbage with Buryak military equipment 
                          Cola    with boiling water oh how fun
wholesale horseradish goes all in a penny and for expensive you go to the squirrel

These teeth in curlers shine in the window
in them the fire flares up and rushes to the sun
like a horseman accelerating on the fly with all the dope
without talking falls into the hole at the bottom of the pan   

It's made of paper it's bad
the doctor did not tell her to burn because there will be an ass
like a molybdenum-and-tit cow 
it is very far from the standard

Nur KZ and horseradish kiss 
lips Clank and lock in the cold. 
the distance between gas molecules varies markedly

Oh, please pour more let it hurt.

Through the eyes of a shoal of herring that sees everything 
I sail the seas like the current of it

I feel any movement with my plankton
and all the Bastards of the sea accept me as part of themselves

those who stick together
easier to breathe easier
easier to breathe easier
those who stick together. 

Dew of yesterday's rain and day succeeding night
wandering the narrow streets... takes time away

Minutes melt like snow like the wheel of fate
you walk and go into a run in the places of the plexus of rivers..

Unspoken question unspoken no
straw hair color and sweet smell.

And you live here for some reason having long forgotten why
and remember only ...that he had chosen to stay here...

Wandering through the narrow streets in the shade of ancient rocks..
cities that don't exist....you find what you were looking for...

In the vintage reflection of the walls you see a strange light
candlelit Hall and unexpected answer...

Here it is stronger here it is
when a stone falls into the sky up 
incomprehensible impossible
as a deadly biblical sin

Clouds like puddles flatten 
waves fall down to the ground 
I'm imagining it I'm imagining it 
that I roll like a stone up. 

Through almost clenched teeth
a wolf howls outside
and bystanders are terrified
like ostriches in the sand
              they hide their heads in garbage heaps
                                                  and under fresh asphalt roads
and their skin suddenly cracks 
crumbles glass
and from under their human masks
pure and sincere
                      a wolf howls.

Drowned man's head drowned head
wrapped in a warm cloth hiding her eyes

A head once living touched by warmth
and now very cold asleep in eternal sleep

.
I'm lying under a high sky grass is sprouting through me 
it's beautiful and very strange and it's like I'm still alive

I see a bird floating in the sky and don't need no words.
it's beautiful and very painful when grass sprouts through you.

Time for the wonders of a tight world baby in drenched pantyhose child 
Eater of candy and paper napkins
milk rivers flowing viscous slow water
porcelain vases anthill 
the stone house of statues the ever-living counselor is your interlocutor
the dimmed lamp of the moon the screeching of foreign children
colored wallpaper paint and walls with traces of passersby hands feet

He will forget you in the shadow of these great houses."
overhanging cliffs over alleyways of streets

Empty eye sockets of windows and eyelids of curtains
he will follow the movements of your lips 
                                            behind the swaying of hair and waist

Smoke of eyelids shadows wandering through the eyes
fresh air Breath of wind

The cubic world is flatly square
neatly folded to a point
                    sad funny weird.

A man like an apple with wormy thoughts in his head
in some places rotten but in general still in the peel

The man who lives in the Apple the man who is the worm
I thought that the world is an Apple and that it needs to be eaten

And in general he was right of course but he was wrong in one thing
who exactly will do this and what is his role in that

A stone green apple in a desert of Broken Stones
it alone became one huge swallowing up old friends

Fragments of much of the former sank into the sand of time
a huge Apple remained as an overhanging wall.

Movements of quiet thoughts ... sounds
touching warm lips and warming hands

Happy moon on her throne 
illusions in the eyes and on the palm
flickering ghosts ... their faces
and blossoming in the fire of flame wings leaves

The boy who did not become her husband hidden but very young
invisible to a thousand eyes like nettles stinging burning

The sea steals water from rivers Burning Touch    hands
in the maelstrom of the elements the nettle is like a flutter the fire of her lips

At this festival of dancing women children
full of milk-filled spikelets of bread grains
colored linen shirts and fields
hot waving Willows

The knees of her shores the footprints of her snow
full-flowing spikelets of rivers and narrow waist lines of light.

A magnificent house ... built in the midst of chaos and night 
the jackals in it were crying in anguish
the pond was boiling and covered with blood 
and the fish ran out of the water
         
And the Moon listened to their weeping and tears and echoed and sang along from on high
she walked in purple Frost and in the icy breath of the void

In the vessel    with clay, life was born more than once
and they died in terrible agony.
and from skyscrapers with laughter broke down 
                                      "madmen ... servants of the King

Burning coals in your pocket and smoldering idol eyes
orange lips and knees as naked as winter Meadows

What boredom imperceptibly ran up what boredom dragged away the silence
and we're now in the madness of this sound living in purgatory hell

She's still a child behind the bushes she's still a dead man    but alive
a swarm of golden leaves surrounds her and her hand takes her soul

And Life beat all the bells and locked doors opened 
fate called me forward to an unattainable but cherished goal

Mysterious signs in the clouds shadows barely visible in the sun
the signs of the map in his sleeves all led to the goal.

I read in a binge…  poets
looking for words to tell
about the beauty of the Dawns
with you that I want to meet…

where are the words that can
sing my thoughts
and in the direction of the South
a bird in flight to fly 

*

Somewhere close cold  Homeland 
somewhere close    but so far away

you hear me...  lying there almost not breathing
see?..    clouds in the sky ...  it's her soul.

Half-naked woman in the company of three friends
she seduced an angel with the beauty of her feet and lips

But why does an angel need someone else's goods between his legs
the only thing he appreciates is the huge full-length wings.

Primus like the trills of a locomotive ringing louder than churches bells
at night songs about life were sung with alcohol diluting the voices

The horses clattered on the asphalt their hooves clicking in the night
as if their gods were asked to give fire to warm up at the stove

The future left without beginning the past was lost in the Half-Light
I wanted to ... …  take communion but it was not enough for me

Quietly the sounds stopped imperceptibly the voices fell silent
the locomotives of the church collapsed and silence touched the world.

It's hard to get together-it's hard to become whole like that ship forgotten by the sea   
past and already yesterday strangely deserted and very tired

Frozen in eternal ice in a snake hole
he was all covered with mud slime in the darkness was dragged by a quagmire

The figure cracked and made it empty
the masks were blown away by the wind the face became like a mask
a bird with an inverted tail with its back turned
she was silent silently thinking about her own.

Membrane he expansion inhales pure oxygen

White needle Angel metal mannequin in the attic
frozen like a statue in the park under the pigeons in their pigeon dermis

Wings dangles cheeks shakes
his happiness is in diameter like a pepper stalk
             
Its slender limbs twisted foliage
lianami crawls outside from the basin by the window
 
Bite me evil Azoth    in the beard of my devil shut your mouth
fuck it all in the ass but not like the other way around                                         
             
Let my diameter be less than the radius and let the wheel live
I'll take him in my arms and throw him from the mountain to the window

And roll and roll on the roads is my destiny
and do not understand whether you want to die  whether to drink and dance
             
Narrow Gauge will touch a drop on the glass will run
Whisper leaves will cover silence tremble

Architectural concept with a dot in the center of the lantern radius   
how bomber aircraft will sweep away poorly lying on the sly

And I will take a young bride for myself she will kiss me old
and maybe I'll change my mind before my time to die

bite me evil Azoth 
                                in the beard
my devil shut your mouth
let my diameter be less than the radius
                              but I know I'll get lucky.

                                                                           
He created beauty and beauty spilling over the ocean
silence filled the world

The three dimensional projection of a bird soaring above the sea had lived many lifetimes in a row
while the oceans were replaced by the Earth until the Earth again retreated back

He was a man on fire a man on fire 
                                                              burning but never burning
net energy storing by particle    the sun in the eyes
                                                       
He was man's favorite toy. 
invented so that the beginning of the day is born from the flame.

The man with the light bulb the man with the balloon the man with the idea
Noble is his face illuminated by this light Noble is his nose
a person with ideas is worthy of this idea.

*
The birth of a waterfall from the rain
like rain born by a waterfall
glass hair from the tree
+ mossy pearls meltdown. 

*

I do not know if they like sweet in sour
obezyany or how to kiss a deer with a deer
Taina's common yeast in her knees
but....everything is silvered... in blue reflections.

*

Sweet house full of brick wool
with smiling frozen faces 
                                                                                                          in the porcelain walls
full of Sly lovely ice cream   
                                                                                                                              in concrete bowls

growing day by day higher and higher in the sky 
and around Are Built Green Groves of apples aspens…

Ragged pulse like cast-iron binding in lace bored
truncated Hair shouted at the top of his voice
and did not believe  did he lose everything back waiting

As the egg does not demolish the fragments so he does not get through the gap
life will scatter break the shells you want to believe or not believe

The worm has aged...  tired of wriggling in his beak
      "don't forget me" he whispered Goodbye
                                                                              his old Durra.

What to give you online Dog
                                                                  wedding pose 
bindweed flowers or a naked Rose ?

When the rains end clearing the sky
the koigor star will rise summer will come
Hot Tuna will come to the green land
where the ancient Mordovian will build a paradise
He's a female angler it's time for him
cleaning the liver with water will help as always

The recipe from the rabbit is so simple you buy sand 
mix vodka ice and then how will it go
And Donkey exercises take control
pickle cucumbers in a bucket and yellow beans
what falls from the hands is not worth relying on
work the watch dear friend and the bed is waiting for you.

A variety of strange things gathered and formed it
portrait of a horse in a white hood and red coat

Guilt warms the soul with a shade of gray weather
and God help him that a sky without birds will soon become a fashion trend

It seems that the hands are bored looking for an earthly one
freezes in lakes water saving fish for years

Fish in winter are silent freezing in the water.
they are told, and they in response never

Fish do not shed tears chew oxygen at night
they gnaw a hole with their teeth and get out on the ice.

Sucking into the tender trunk 
  merrily gurgles water 

elephant with glued wings 
flew to the watering hole like a bird 

and nearby
liquid hydrogen splashes in a glass.
and I
    dozhdina scissors cut
                  Pew tap shower
then
    I climb into the knot where the wheel misfires 
                          oseklom calls the cart pulls
and angry angry    the trunk and its straight Vine will not wither

turns his eyes on the faces of boots wanders
everything in it is vanity and Vanity life covers
                     
and then    I am the sun loud
              turn it off like a light bulb
I'll put an elephant in my pocket so that he doesn't run around and trample on it
                                          and as put and flew
sopletu hands in silence
mammoth wings in the back glue 
                                                          and in a promising vector 
                                                                                                                                        I'll speed up my ass

and my wife

barely coming up at the meeting a look at me putting
dress your face in a smile      words in laughter multiplying.

So, infection...
here lies a small leaf corpse  -
 he fell victim to all the draughts in the world.
 
Here is his friend the first-class elephant
with a wooden ear embedded in the phone.
 
And here  he himself is always silent.
with silver sometimes blue sound
 
Here's a huntress idling around looking around
And cursed be the one in hell who disturbed her.
 
The Huntress is idling-neither OHA nor sigh Slumbers
cursed in hell will he be   who would touch her
 
I'll sweep her lips in the snow,
I'll hide our views in myself;
idling it...
as in his exorbitantly hot
 
And finally
     here a drop of glass spreads turning into a warm sea
which splashes in a bowl of wine in the old Paris cathedral.

Thoughts are tortuous in form straight out of the head they will not fit there no matter how cool

My friend Finn was a sinner not a rabbi he had wine and a decanter 
we were happy with him as long as this jug was full

The Voice of the Cuckoo is not like the ARIA of the Nightingale in the morning
but in clock format the radio sounds quite even yes

Of course hearing this I want the sand drifted
but there is definitely no sleep and this is quite good
                                                     
                              - Hello My Morning! 

Marinate and knock me into cheese in a stone version of black holes
space or crazy feast-Hello my new world!

Relax I'll be back soon you know it's the right way.
I'm a volunteer and a hero my world is destroyed    I belong here.

He's a general and you're a soldier    it's time you found out
you must die in battle and he will give the order...

The traitor hid in the bushes the traitor is the very first enemy.
he will strike from behind when you do not expect

I have received orders to shoot and am not afraid to kill.
the enemy lurked at the gate    I see he's waiting for me there.

I understand you are tired again war, again fire..
my world is mad    I'm drunk in it...    glass flows down my hands

What's the difference    when the dawn ... the dawn just isn't there anymore
Only night follows night, and only night do you live...

Venus de Milo ... figures…  white statues of the past  … 
heroes and Wanderers ... images in the present                                                         
... silhouettes of broken gods 
frozen in anticipation of a game on the chessboard of reality
in the world of simple things and cracked glass heads of giants                                                                                                                                                                                                    playing in a strange key……

Torn from his life of reality into the unfamiliar context of an alien world
you're a thing that becomes strangely alluring prominent in the flow of ordinary gray things

Statue heads Primus phone 
a gas burner in a frenzy burning a naked iPhone
equally ripe as peanuts machines with the faces of Asian people

Fighters for fighters against in the eternal struggle for the budget
how Knights drive their luxury cars through red lights

Or great statues with proud profile faces 
ephemerally dissolve in the river of time falling to their knees prostrate.

The artist touched the body of the canvas with a shaggy brush
drawing a naked woman someday mother

Drew a face chest legs drew a big beautiful belly
drew the life that would be but didn't draw the face

Heart full of copper and hops
              in it the rocks rise up
                                  falling down waterfalls

Flowers bloom on silk fabric
  sleepy her lips and breasts brush grapes
hot as cicadas in early May

Descending to the Earth at night she scattered her clothes and trembled
and she chased and chased and chased and was looking for something below.

The bitter juice of your lips  …    sedge Blade 
Emerald fish in an aquarium that stands by the road
the losers  the ability to cry for the sake of love

But not as sad as cows mumble when they love 
and as thunderstorms rage and howl as storms play with waves   
              spring tearing the ice from the surface of the sea

Exactly at midnight, a snail came out of the room
she is the wave-guarding mistress 

The crowd loves her    for a very wise silence
for the kindness and pieces of cheese she treated everyone to

She basks often on the bosom of the ocean
the tenderness of the breeze and rum warms her
while she's still so tanned.

Salty plates in a garbage heap ... breasts... hands on it 
Rotten desserts old teeth ... a witch beating tambourine on tambourine with all her dope

Oh god ... I guess I figured it out out of boredom
I defend myself beating my hands against my arms the sticky lichen muffling all sounds

The Teapot is boiling with wine I'm tearing out someone's eyes I'm looking for a washbasin
but there's only one running around    bunny ... sunny bunny                   

Strange moon folk roam the streets and roam and strange knocking
it pours in waves as if there might be a dead man lying in a grave.
overgrown with grass beats stone on Stone alarm that he is buried alive
………...just like that    he just left the House.

The clock is ticking, sometimes they drink tea
they cover the wall with themselves sometimes they crawl over the edge

Falling headache like a brick down on a parachute
its purpose is to crush the egg in the aluminum reinforcement

Cracks here and there yolk leaks
the Shell still holds but for how long who knows...

The brew in my head gurgles presses boiling water thoughts
it swells and rushes out from the very bottom.

But there is clearly no need to breathe so almost good
someone will even add fun and certainly funny

My specialty changes as a function of time of day
in the morning a simple passerby growing in the evening in ciliated shoes                                                                       

My little separate sounds in a natural setting
lyrics for songs in progressive processing

Acoustics - related flow along tower corridors
the wind howls in my ears    the Ancient One is no longer scary

More millennia    nothing has changed
the sea retreated and arrived the rest stood still

Permanent              values of constants in architecture
the same faces-posters as lanterns and sculptures

Running and fleeing three people with a flag
in the grandstand a crowd of their fans had the flu possibly cancer

Even in the worst case scenario or government
they have always been the center soul of this position

As for the statues    then they are like cars 
in the traces of their outlines smoothness we loved them

Suddenly the lips stood on end the hair trembled
the lower part of the face thawed the upper part cracked

In the winding branch of the streets, the raging came alive
delighting the whole plain with a stream of thoughts flooding it

In search of the night capricious weather
bloomed evergreen along city fences

Like a snake naked to the knee in an ex
rusted occasionally    feeling superfluous

Rustled parks outside warmed
glued leaves and sometimes sang

Bloomed lilac in the Byzantine tradition
drinking empty coffee in a coffee shop...  and smoldering leaves.

Dim light turns faces into porcelain
the future needs space more and more from year to year

The drop at the bottom of the vessel is divided into smell and water
this is not encouraging but life is possible only in the concept of voodoo

The air is dented with patterns like glass marbles in smoke
lay on the palms of his thoughts like horses on the sand Gray

And the drops burn in the room barely illuminating the eyelids
viscous as hot chocolate waffles bought at the pharmacy

Instead of gray walls until seven it will be autumn 
                        a little later we will return to April
          where a salt-and-pepper shadow will paint a door on the wall

Having waited out the winter in the transition we will go into oblivion
        over the horizon we will be met    dressed in the dawn
those who believe the rest are not.