Evgeniy Filimonov

The wiry countenance
Of the elder leadman
Had no certain gloom
Yet neither the idealist's vigor
...

My companion
Or enemy?
You shuffle along the corridor
Your eyes, they offer me
...

...

On tempest night
Or brighter evening,
I assailed your fundaments
In a mansio on the road out of Rome
...

The wuther, from crevice it bellows
A dialect I entertained
from every hollow
...

He've no compunctious
Remedy
The rimes of four or five
Beget the redding
...

A perversion distraught
Caught among eye and carried
By mouth, an entertainment
of the impermissible
...

In this moment I am drying myself,
I made my home in the sea.
Of peril I knew nothing.
I gasped,
...

If I were to throw my words
to the wind.
Would they flutter in eloquence?
Convulse in dubious vulgarity?
...

Schemes of wicked women.
Forestalling their fate.
Capricious their vision.
Should we consider
...

Take me deep into the woods.
So that I shall never return.
So that my cries shall not break the leaves.
To forego the vices of man
...

Time streams ahead.
We walk against coursing rivers.
To enter the past
is to end oneself
...

The brooding, the helpless.
The creeping and veiled.
The skies carry the blaze.
Their effigies extend to the haze up above.
...

Trust in we,
for we have written, studied, and foreseen.
Heed not the gentle clash of whispering winds.
Nor shadows of the postured.
...

Inspire the fleeing
to rows of the free.
On our backs is written,
slaves we at three.
...

Flames and ash.
Engulfed in the desolate.
Strands to the evening.
Veiled to the silk of its rays.
...

It's lonely victories over time.
For instance if I take your picture,
will your shadow remain,
destitute of your richness?
...

...

Some madness to believe
that there is more
Ambitions impounded
In the eternal search
...