Morning Picker
I heard an empty voice
from the wind: appears
obey nature.
A song; enough
for sleeping lion
birds whistle in the night,
— the silent eyes.
I close the door;
smiling behind season
— an oak tree has fallen.
Moscow, June 2020
I heard an empty voice
from the wind: appears
obey nature.
A song; enough
for sleeping lion
birds whistle in the night,
— the silent eyes.
I close the door;
smiling behind season
— an oak tree has fallen.
Moscow, June 2020
A smile without lipstick is you.
Bringing me destiny with a stick.
Pemaculkata, September 5th, 2020
I drink a cup of black coffee
nobody’s at the cafe; silence is better
rather than mourning eyes.
A cup of black coffee enough
for life; no poverty, no poetry.
But without both,
—like dust on the table only.
I drink a cup of coffee,
more than anybody;
thinking and waiting here
—let it be empty.
The darkness appears
the wind blows to the east.
Suddenly, a Wiseman enters,
sitting behind my nest.
He’s asking an address to the star,
but I don’t know.
He’s mad and almost stress,
I have no idea now.