Monday, October 13, 2014

Siberia in Collective Memory

Siberia in Collective Memory
(A crayon sketch by Red Shuttleworth)

Siberia in Collective Memory

Mountains... as if in beaded rows.
Broken old-days cash boxes.
No wonder I feel rich!

Forests, concrete-grey clouds,
horsemen with soil-stained faces.
We ride crazy through houses!

Loaf of rye bread, sweet water,
suicides dangle off white bark trees.
Richly-hued place names I cannot pronounce.

November: the sun's metallic glaze is cold.
Rumble of a coal-smoke train.
A curse... like sugar on my tongue.

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