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< Misha Campfires



you are a member of all polylines,

as if the artist, painted the you was not sure

in this space, in all directions of light,

that seasonal breaking puzzles unfolded

Procrustean bed will be the lack of response.

I am a member of the community and understandable names,

all closed rings of snakes and a smile of the Buddha,

I like the rain on the palms of the long-standing cold,

instant eternity of loneliness on the transition deserted streets ...

I'm waiting for you where you never will.

we consist of strokes, as if on a cloud with light,

child hands painted life, or rather,

impression of touching someone who is kinder kindness itself.

in this picture of the world the transition between the "I" and "you" smeared a small pen.

we do not know how, but to be the result of, creation.