I’m made out of cheese my head is that of an old man
At the sound of a whistle life begins from the middle
At the top of the valley I stand with a deer a cricket or a brother
In a worldly sense our name is Alyosha
The hurricane rises as a first line of border defense
Mushrooms grow out of paper I stand watch
Holding a cinnamon bun like a splinter grenade
So as not to alarm the relations
I don’t care for cheap shots
The flutter of minor events brings about a) a young sovereign
b) the harvest of infinite summer
Love begins with a spoonful of compote
Crying is hard for me Alyosha but to live is incredibly easy
The bride comes out to wash off the dust of the road
Panoramic pavilions tangentially float to the house
And like a demon I am deaf and blind like a demon