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Thursday, September 17, 2020


by Dmitry Blizniuk 

translated by Sergey Gerasimov from the Russian

Stop Hate for Profit

There's no room in history for a wanderer with a backpack,
or a cobbler in a circle of splinter light,
or a girl with a walking stick.
There is nothing human in the history of humans.
We examine and study all forms and kinds of war monsters,
detective or horror stories.
History is emptied out pools of time:
people's blood and stupidity of rulers have flowed out,
and only dry mud is left,
senseless, enameled emptiness,
and pyramids, burial mounds of years and dates.
But now we see our reflection in the Internet,
colorful shadows of asses and faces in social networking sites.
A greenish sick salmon 
sluggishly slaps its tail in the dirty water
among oil spills, candy wrappers,
and all kinds of garbage.
Looking at the gasoline stain on water
you can see your reflected face—
and you are as small as a pimple.

Dmitry Blizniuk is an author from Ukraine. His most recent poems have appeared in Poet Lore, The Pinch, Salamander, Willow Springs, Grub Street, and many others. A Pushcart Prize nominee, he is also the author of The Red Fоrest (Fowlpox Press, 2018). He lives in Kharkov, Ukraine. Member of PEN America.