Biography of Miroslav Kirin
Miroslav Kirin Poems
The smoke from the heating plant rises steadily.
A soprano from Schnittke's madrigal interferes with the voice of the potato vendor coming from the street.
The chill descends to the root of a plant
You're tossing it onto the page I am reading, splaaash, all the words vanish
and I have to look up at you.
it is no longer a tongue, it is a huge calf's liver
of the calf we slaughtered yesterday
put them aside to dry, and my face is aglow with happiness.
With an unmeant easiness I open the window to let in the fresh morning air.
The water is boiling, and from the silvery box I add four teaspoons of coffee.
the coast deserted, soon to be lost from sight.
We were rowing for hours,
we were departing and arriving.
About The Shoe
What is a shoe doing in the grass of the park? Ask her at once.
Let her know it is outrageous. Ask her why she's alone,
where her left or right match is, why she's not looking for it.
Why she has agreed to be alone. After the shower she's full of
murky water. At night, insects crawl into her. But that does not
warm her up. Ask her how she got this far, so that she knows not
where her match is. Does she feel no need to meet the other, to apologize
and be at ease afterwards? Ask her al