(of, by and for a nil)
For me
The skulls are as intense
As to remind one of Eisenstein films
I don’t know why
Maybe they give you
The infinite possibilities of montage
And now
Let us examine
When they first made their presence
Indeed, it had been before chameleons
How beautiful were they
Radiating like the sun
And later
Due to tectonic movements
They went under, over which grew
Chameleons, the blood suckers
Have you ever traced the taproot of chameleons
They are in the skulls, in the deep
And now
What is their situation
Dark like the Dark Age
With died out eye-embers
Amidst empty bottles and wastes
Waiting for their destiny
Scene 1, or, How Eisenstein failed
Skulls uproot the taproots
Skulls climb up the Odessa steps
One by one, for no one
Skulls are followed by chameleons
Skulls, afraid to death, surrender
Scene 2, or, What Tarkovsky Saw
From Solaris, earth reminds us of earth
New is everything, like New York, New Delhi
Long take tapering into a gaze
Blood from the hollow eyes of skulls
Blood from the open mouths of skulls
Blood from the widened eyes of skulls
Blood blackens, earth looks like earth-skulls
October sky pales over us, for ever*
* Please listen to Al Stewart’s “Roads to Moscow”