Archive for the ‘Mira’ Category

Pennsylvania, 1982

I’m happy for you,

really, I am,

your wholesome existential glee.

But please now, be quiet, stay away,

pray think of me,

for whom

your exuberance is draining.




From my cell window at night,

sometimes they let me see the sky.

Sometimes I am lucky,

if I contort myself enough,

I can see a travelling light which I know (or hope)

is Mir.

I feel a connection,

an appreciation of beauty,

the best of humanity,

yes, hope.

Sometimes it lingers

but never long enough,

and always,


it passes.




Cherishing peace and quiet as much as I do,

I screamed: “SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

as loud as I possibly could.




How can people so far apart

be neighbors?




When your time of contemplation

becomes a thing of expectation…


and despair,

you’re no longer “there”.




Radio Free Moscow, you say.

A much needed antidote to Radio Free Europe Radio Liberty?

Or just more of the same,


another name?

Moscow, Idaho, you clarify.



Don’t they have missiles pointed at us?

Or, is that Moscow, Iowa?

Maybe, Moscow, Pennsylvania?




The child’s face showed she didn’t approve.

It wasn’t sweet, true,

but I liked it.

Perhaps my taste was moderated,

I reasoned,

by an adult’s appreciation of cost, convenience and health.

Indeed, adult considerations.

As I reflected upon such realities

the juice tasted better

and better,

beyond banalities.

Such is life.

Get used to it, kid!




In captivity.


since the last public torture,

the only audible voice my own

… whispers.

In peace (in a shitty little cell).

Safe from the madding masses.

Alone with my thoughts.

I inhale and exhale,

It’s beautiful to be aware of my every breath.

In peace.

At peace.

Solitary confinement.

Time and space to think.

It’s the ultimate in introspection!

Or is that just what they want me to think?

My captors, my manipulators,

they’ve been leaving me alone,

letting me be.


there’s always someone pulling the strings.


Happy New Year!

The alarm sounded.

I got up, went to the bathroom,


rinsed my mouth out,

and drank two glasses of water.


I switched the TV on.

BR, naturally.


Nina Winkler.


I did my thing.

Panoramabilder would be next.

Comforting, somehow.

Like Alpine mountains.


reliability, of sorts.

We seek stasis

and maintenance,

of youth and sanity,

in this temporal realm

of the transient,

of transience.

We try.

We don’t want to die.

We don’t anything we care about to die.

We try.

We do what we can.

We eschew publicly-stated plans,

like resolutions and manifestos,

knowing “the other” will use it as ammunition,

cause for demolition.

No fireworks, please,

use the expense more wisely!





Happy New Year.


Everyone hates Ukrainians,


read history and news.

They all have a reason,

Poles, Jews, Russians, the EU.

… And you?

Me, I try to escape.

I go to the Pentathlon World Championships.

It’s Moskva (Raz, dva, tri!)…

The action is good and honest.

But, shit!

The Ukrainian has a gun,

pointing straight at everyone.

The poster is loud and clear, I turn away in fear.


Impulses and repulses,

We miss the years of Soyuz,

In a sense,

Pain and defence,

We flinch…

but, please,

most of all,

can we remember,



the things we share,





matter of fact

… we don’t have to be enemies?