In the mirror behind his back
recent times are floating
red flags and standards of the Cossacks
his reflection
...
yet another election
won by the don't knows
who defeated
the don't cares
...
More winters or just this one.
—Horace
The Hydra-headed father of the nation looks like the day you meet him. He is sick to his lobbies, his airports swell but he'll survive a bout of motleyness.
...
The Mother Of All Parades
As the empire exhales the dust of its former glory, you merge into a vast mutual body with multiple pebble heads. Cigarette smoke searches pockets and lungs.
If you doze off now, you'll see skeletons marching past through Red Square and rockets watching them closely from the rostra.
When you open your eyes again, festivities will go on. You'll still have a chance to observe the huge inflated faces rising into the air.