along the veins of rivers
blue on the flat white paper
the cities and towns are
hard, black scorchmarks
printed names that hurt the tongue,
that look out of focus
to American eyes,
From L'vov to
Kursk, Anadyr and
Kazan.
The names are bitter
burnt bread on waves of static.
Here are the words we learn
first
TANK, Rifle, Cannon, Rocket,
pilot, WHORE, Bullet, son of a whore,
it's curtains for you,
PANTS, table, library, ..if you don't know, we show
you, If you don't want to, we make you.
target, I knock down pears with
my prick.....destroyed.
I buy kvass and pirozhiki
from the Babushka, and speak
the soft, light, words like a
smart child, bowing, thanking her
with the long, formal, nicety
that comes from Chekov and Tolstoy.
"clever one" she calls me.
She comes from village, Butyrkovo
"..you know it? They do spoons there from birch....very pretty"
Black ink frankenstein stitches meaning rail lines, north to hash marks
of two runways, pimples of fuel tanks, one
muddy turd of a lake,
"I don't, k sozhaleniyu,
but it sounds nice.
