hymns of plague and utter annihilation

BOOK III
PLATO’S HEART

hymns of plague and utter annihilation 


45

I am the one who clings to the ground
who watches the grass move
every little stalk
every little dewdrop
I see the evaporation inside her
the emission into the atmosphere
I can already hear the rain to come
decay or rebirth?
reverse blooming
lost civil war
abandoned reservations
scorched field of folding

beneath me lie twigs and brushwood
the last thing I remember is the torch of their faces
that reminds me of Evil


46

I don't feel like it!

I don't need to be!

oh, it's all from the Devil!

please, I'll say it all!
the Moon is choking on his maggots
they're everywhere, he's everywhere, they're inside
Is that why her light is so slutty?
so used up? so hopeless?
We're all being led somewhere, we're being numbered against the wall

№789! step forward!

you are accused of Midnight!

you are accused of Struggle!

You are accused of Existence!

and then the whistling sounds
the next thing I don't remember
we were all dragged to the Great Gallows
so that we wouldn't disturb anyone there
far out of town, we're not bothering anyone now

hanging around like pigs on hooks

Leaving your shop, your Gospel, remember

death hides not around the corner, but in the eyes

that you have been recognized as an unnecessary vision


47

bombs and gas and something else
that separates from the general consistency
we are so used to war that we
we're completely oblivious to civilian deaths
the army is a bandit group, terrorists
who lurk in the foliage of epaulets and ranks
generals are resentful priests with knives
full of blood and screams and references to
of God, of another way and another road
where instead of splinters there are stones stuck in the sand
washed by the cold sea instead of the icy blood
we're so used to it all
that we no longer distinguish between the fallen
from the living, leaving their garrisons
fleeing to "our own" – to certain death
facing disintegration at the border
of light in contact with darkness

bombs and gas and something else
that turns the bodies into poultry farm trash
and what else does Civilization have to offer
besides video cameras and cremation?

we've all climbed to Calvary, into the jaws of Baal
we're all in the crosshairs of divine pressure
two presses touch our bones, prayers
and we become the most beautiful ashes

and we become fodder for the birds of terror

tremble, tremble
those who go unarmed
You will be finished, and the sky will
burst with Tears and Laughter


48

when I arrived at the gate, many had already died
they were stacked in zinc boxes
they were packed in supermarket bags
the porters were coughing up blood
despair was pouring out of people

I tried to heal, I took out of my valise
Andersen, Milton, also Nabokov
nothing came out, nothing works
because it's impossible to cure Death
you can be called a trickster and a sorcerer
but never a healer who saves the soul
from the hands of evil, an army was coming from the North
spirits and ghosts rushed into battle and died

no one came back, no one is coming back

I take out a scalpel and open the carotid artery
scarlet drops splashed on the marble of the empire
so I left a mark
so I left a message
but that too will soon be
wiped away by the usual broom, by the wind
the janitors of the Ministry
they always come on time
they always come when it's too late

Shame and Embarrassment flashed over the walls
there was howling, there was shouting
who was still alive, envied the dead
who was already dead
praised Thanatos for the blade
that had been stretched above his neck
the terrible disease had turned reality to ruins
Awe, her name is Awe.

and therefore, for the epilogue:
we have all been deliberately destroyed
when I arrived at the gates
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