Author: Vladislav Nekliaev

When you entered the workshop, I was already here. How many statues, and torsos, and heads! Like remains of the […]

Troubled slumbering of things, the curtain blown aside By the gush of the salty wind, the advent of the tide […]

Eupatius thought: “Give him a thousand horses, A thousand bridles of eloquent gold. Wash his feet, feed him well, show […]

for every windי’s emotionless blast Brings shreds of feathers with their dance of loss Rotating leaves of faded rainbow-trees And […]

Today your things depart. Your faience cup Fell off the table at sunrise and cracked. Your old grey dog did […]

The air heaving like a wounded fish, Breathing through its purplish sandy gills, Letting in the salty gale, fluttering its […]

To Jena Woodhouse This way of minutes miserably mixed With their own blinks misunderstood By birds and trees, this eye-born […]

We crossed to the other side, the burgee of the boat Ceased flapping and lagged behind like a dead wing. […]

Frost apple on a knotted whirling bough Of dark becoming where it cannot be. So much both for the soil […]