Live, laugh, love.

a'jugustovsky Monday, the wind outside the window is dusting. float past money filibusters ships. whether Monday, greedy? Is it windy? filibustered armada swim at random contrary to any signs, the will

Robinson left without waiting for Friday, in a rain-washed Thursday evening. The train was unhurried, like cuttlefish, on tracks without rails moved at random. A coupe is a reserved seat - an inhabited

The lake water is shining. Well, hello, Our Lordship. Come on, embrace you, I opened my hands. I'm on my own tracks a path from summer to summer, I bring you my love, verses and silence. And you are warm

Sunday is windy and hot day. mature leaves of quiet whispers seemed to me a new arch into the sky of the stretched bridges. who built it: leaves / wind? or inspiration flight? whispers, of course, will

behind the lake is a forest, and beyond the forest there is a space, in which - other forests and lakes. and a cloud in the sky appeared before the eye already empty Calvary cross. but the place of the

The clouds appeared and disappeared. The sky is blue again and transparent. The sky is made honorable by the Creator, and the store of his love is not wasted. Is it because the day of Elijah is quiet and

he led me in circles, silent, modest guide, only grumbled: "debts are debts, but once I got up on the wrong foot, do not count the circles, what's the use? better - pick up your leg. " metronome

to him comes a woman in a dream, a woman comes to him like snow, and the light will say, and flare up at the head. and there will be a garden, and a tree in a window, and hidden until now in the white

and when she again jumps into the pegs field plants and river bed, The stars go out, and from the contour map the area of hell and paradise washes away with rain, and the old man who fell asleep yesterday

How to solve unsolvable problems, just mold the brain is not affected, I'll peel the potatoes, honey M. Andrey Platonov looks through. Bronzes nights proletarian oval, workdays, as a premonition, multiply.

BLACK HEN Black chicken a day without a number I was laying eggs down the street. Gin and tonic lasts rush hour, will expel anyone its armored car, if conscience is scraped off the chip, on the train will

The scribbler was once, the brown cloak worn, rhymed ornate with all possible force. Pillows thought about the descendants were getting yourself ink and wrote poems about how miserable life is eked out.

With hangover not afraid of a walking virus. I went out into the street, seem to have grown – midnight Melo so that it was light, and snow on seven heels namelo. In the morning the frost walk, arms akimbo,

For never loving you, just feeling sorry., put me a fence from the same railing, which we both held, when this life could bring, and we, despite the years, went down to the underground peace-grace, the

With world on thread - and will stitch in, with the world on a string – write a poem, with the world on the subject and to the poem the widest add a dash. With women each-on ever caress one, from every

I have a crucifix, her father, who… What will happen to us if the supports are lost? I have a simple mother, an engineer, a hero of labor – without it, the right half of my life I did not go anywhere.

Because empty, sorrow from the lips on, separating poetry from art, I will announce to you over the ashes of sleep the triumph of brains craft, and be inflated at the throat, the side, what will srifa

July rolled into August eight, thunderstorm lever on the roofs of villages, on the surf pebbles, on the fire, on the sunset melancholy blood; was coming to an end, breaking a fragile hat crude fiber of

It all fits together in the past, one for all, And in the future, too uniform, Minutes happiness sells Gobsek – Over time price match. Diverge the fan our path, Raging over the fates of the wind, Sometimes