American Samizdat

Wednesday, June 26, 2002. *
I blurred at once the chart of trite routine
by splashing paint with one swift motion.
I showed upon a plate of brawny glutin
the slanting cheekbones of the ocean.
Upon the scales of tinny fishes
new lips summoned, though yet mute.
But could you
             play
                    right to the finish
a nocturne on a drainpipe flute?

A vy mogli by? (But Could You?) A visual poem by V. V. Mayakovsky illustrated by the great El Lizzitsky. From Mayakovsky and His Circle.


posted by Andrew at 10:08 AM
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