This is a master list of everything that's on here. Sorted by date. Most recent first.

This is mostly for my own reference, but if you're a community with moderated membership that is checking out my LJ, I starred the ones I like the best.

Completed Stuff (loosely completed - stuff that i'm trust enough to leave alone for a while)

Forsaken (partially inspired by Bulgakov)*
Advice*
On Arthropods
The Accident
The Reck'ning <- I read over this and this is pretty god awful, so I'll make changes.
Degas at the Harvard Galleries*
Walden Pond


--------------------

Works in Progress (stuff that I'm not satisfied to leave alone for significant periods of time)

4901.html (as yet untitled) - the one about the kitchen

--------------------

Translations - sorted by completion
Optic Shifts by Andrei Senkov
The Secret LIfe of a Toy Piano by Andrei Senkov - in progress, lol

--------------------
Snippets (stuff that came to my head with no coherency or structure or relevance)

the phone hangs up
sleepy goodbyes
cowboy boots (it's 1337.html! awesome!)
geeeeeeeeee-hucks and cahoots
maxims and puppies
blue girl <- really sucks btw)
yeti games

this is powerful

Я над этим переводом еще работаю.
I'm working on this translation right now.

( the first part of the translation/первая часть перевода )
( original/оригинал )

The crowd may have insisted,
clamored, even,
but Pontius Pilate washed his hands of regret.
He could see Golgatha faintly, misty and wretched,
from his balcony.

Nobody mentioned that it may have rained
that night on Golgatha,
and it would only be natural, then, for a poor soul
to take shelter in a cave for three days.
It thundered like the dickens:
yet he never told the four that loved him most
about the crown of thorns;
the frustration that scraped at his goodness.

He was resigned to the crucifixion,
forsaken by the world's worst
for thirty silver.
His head dropped on his chest.
He took one glaring look at the sky,
and thanks to the mobs,
and to Pontius Pilate,
the wrong prisoner asked
the right question.

yet I did not know it would give you so much grief, my dear
grieving cucumbers <- like como agua para chocolate!

Rainy days begin
when a salty sunrise breaks light
over greiving cucumbers in a bowl.
It is never a tragedy, but always a setback:
Cardinals, cheerful winter caps, bob like buoys in the network of tree branches.
----
^ this will likely never be a poem on its own BUT may be dissected as an organ donor to other poems.

Глаз есть символ желания, его постоянные перемещения - движение желания.

The eye is a symbol of desires; its shift represents the shift of desires.
Jean-François Lyotard

optic shift

.

the beginning of love:
carefully exploring
grabbling
at brown labyrinths
with salty minotaurs
.

a theatre glass:
a pane
of glassy detail
of plastic dramaturgy
.

rain:
impatience
tears

there
.

gauguin. his paintings:
shrouded doors
to
a rectangular polynesia

( Original )

The art of making butterflies
from newspaper fillings:
The first page is always the hardest to write.
Names are changed to protect the blushing
bastards.

The phone hangs up quietly and
sleepy goodbyes find their way to the front page.
Between us, he was always doing things like that:
buying cigarettes just because he could,
only to trample them into the snow.
I bet he thought those geeeeee-hucks and cahoots were reaaaally something.
----

gosh I like this one. I'll keep playing with it, but boy howdy.
sleepy goodbyes? sloppy goodbyes?

The table: her grandmother's glasses, thick
like the biscuit crumbs and oil stains
on the corner of the gossip rag.
Chairs turned from the table are frozen in mid-scrape.
If you listen, sometimes, the noises get louder, more petulant.
But it's also true that sometimes, at night,
when the kitchen light is left on to ward away ghosts,
the stairs creak under the weight of the people.
And pots, shifting quietly in the darkness
of a cupboard, patiently clang.
Silent white moths powder the windows and doors, while
outside, it rains, the moon imploring through the occasional wounded cloud.
---
add more here
god this is terrible.

this poem came on thick and sluggish

Ach mein gott. I'm back. Aaaand I have a poem, which I stole from my other LJ, but no one will ever find out what it is.

...unless they run a Google search.


Chiltonella, hampsonellus, sandersiella,
Enantiopoda, hutchinsoniella.
These are the arthropods I find unobtrusive:
The rest better make themselves really elusive.
Large ants, for example, should all up and die,
Or depart to where other conditions apply.
-
And playing with words.

a yemeni yeti

A yeti yesterday
a yemeni yahoo
yesterday's yemenis
yesterday's yeti venison
yesterday's lamenting yemeni yetis
yes, a yeti
your yeti, yes.
Yikes, a yeti!
Yikes, a yemeni!
Yikes, a yemeni yeti!
Yet a yemeni yeti yak yak yak *yank*...blabbering Bigfoot.

names are never changed to protect the innocent or not so much blushing bastards