The hope a mooncalf follows
is sacrifice for slaughter,
and yet the wings of swallows
still skip across the water. 

The Official Website of the Leading Formalist Poet 

YouTube RSS
formats

Angels

Where do they come from? From whose love do they

(Read More)…

 
 Share on Facebook Share on Twitter Share on Reddit Share on LinkedIn
formats

Killing Fish

  What’s she crying about—this old crone eaten away by

(Read More)…

 
 Share on Facebook Share on Twitter Share on Reddit Share on LinkedIn
formats

The Calm of the Sea

Upon the height of Tarkankut The pennant at the crow’s

(Read More)…

 
 Share on Facebook Share on Twitter Share on Reddit Share on LinkedIn
formats

The Dream

High noon in Dagestan, I lay marooned In blistering heat,

(Read More)…

 
 Share on Facebook Share on Twitter Share on Reddit Share on LinkedIn
© by Leo Yankevich
credit