Valery Kourinsky

02.12.99

Atudinized with a tummy and pride...

Atudinized with a tummy and pride,
he is my contemporary and politician.
He likes to suck dry the rich sites of this life
but does not make difference between dead and live lines
within breviarium of totality.
His favorite food is canned calmness,
canned love,
canned tomorrows,
canned appointments,
canned "and-so-ons".
Reading the files of life,
he has artificial sight for a juicy imagery,
for outlines of the next stage of beauty,
for the colors of noble deed,
for the lights of greatness.
And artificial hearing
for the speaking truth,
for melody of forest scrogs,
snagged by occasional foot
within evening filled with floriform hope,
which entity embroiders in ourselves. .
But under the stalky shell
somewhere inside his existence
he is a good guy with blue eyes
a lot of stars mirrored in them.
And there in his undeveloped "I"
he cries with cry that is like a song,
like a song of a kid in the sun.
And there far away in his soul
he is running to mum that is still alive,
and the beams snarled together with hair