Nina Kossman: Valley of Closed Eyes
Dipping my cheekbones
into the blind substance,
into the cooling water of the maternal yes
Nina Kossman: Three Poems About a Head (3)
Yet you keep saying:
“I’ve lost my head for the love of my son,
I cannot find it anywhere!”
Well, then live without it.
Your son is lost to you and it is not your fault
Nina Kossman: Three Poems about a Head (Two)
If you cut off your right hand and bury it in the garden,
it will grow into a little daughter with wings instead of arms.
Nina Kossman: Three Poems About a Head (1)
And you, who came in here wearing rings,
but without your head,
leave your rings by the door,
and put your head on
Valerie Duff: Russian Chapter
Deserters call and wave their sacks
at the carriage bound for Petersburg.
Nina Kossman: While you wait for the music
While you wait for the music to open like a flower,
it is waiting for you to open yourself
to the air from which it is made
Nina Kossman: Upon seeing a portrait of Genrikh Yagoda* on a wall in a Moscow police station
so many feet that did not run away,
so many mouths that did not speak,
so many inheritors of what can’t be described
Nina Kossman: Giordano Bruno’s Unwritten Letter
He didn’t have time to complete the letter
which he was composing in his head,
as the flames were beginning to engulf his body
Vox Populi 