my collages
moscow, 2018
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V
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
Creeds and schools in abeyance,
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.
Walt Whitman
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крылья птицы
ветер сновидений
обволакивает штрихи
ресниц и моя предполетная
сила ощущений прекрасна и замок
образов и ход времени и запахи
и тело
в поисках границ дарит
опыт воплощению
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