Belovezh (REDarmy)

"this is broad,

this great foreign world: we shall stop

at the GATES. and go on,

no further"

at the ship works,
this was said and was said,
at the belted cities,
flinging out the dirty
land,

the continuous garroting
earth-

"and from O-great heights
the great columns spoke:

everything
was bright and RED:

and GREAT, until appearing; the wide poet
stands by the ice

locked

harbor. goes home. and we go no further; we stop

at the hugely
unmoving

GATES"

so the mighty yawp of the strangled land sends out
the oracles of REDarmy and 'motherrussia!', speaking speaking
until in the forests the tiny men cry
wise tempests, and all the paintings
are cut up, thrown across

the stone floor.

and no one remembers them,

"the ship
works are quiet
and the town squares these
days and the young men
have nothing
whatsoever to do
and they

stand"

guard by the mausoleums. the forests are bade still:
the seas

heave, and settle, and smirk to night