* * *
The dew bells
are ringing;
the wind flaps,
claps.
A death-by-bullet
movie is made;
ghouls, ghouls.
The movie is good,
but none of the guys
remain alive.
*** How can you singthese wordsat the height of glory,don’t you seethat all our vowelsare…
*** Alarmous sorrow of fogs hides from hellish, stranger’s eyes the museum of our waxen…
Yesterday, editor and literary critic Dmytro Drozdovsky received wonderful news about the publication of his…
The war goes on.The war goes on.War runs.War flies.Today I rememberwith what passionin my childhoodwe…