Anton Mikhaltsov

August 8, 1999 - Minsk

westland yard

Rise (circle)
by wise dry grasses
yellow daffodil
twist the arms
out of shady green masses
bruised that spring still

on westland yard
draw like
if there's a crystal painting
amongst footprinted path

drops vibration
treasure for naive flowerkids
to see
to swallow is a sensation
blessed rains left westland fields

drought in the air
forests choking
bird meets the pavement
in despair
step by the 'human'
step two,
footprinted path
gained devastating mark of boots

tiger chords
his riot skin
volcanes his roar
of pain
the heater shot
the man crushes world
of decay
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