One, born to crawl, could fly! The wind began to dance bacchically And he knocked it over - is it a joke? - stroller, Separating child and mother forever. It’s not for nothing that a baby’s shoulders itch, Powdered with fairy dust: Invisible wings grew there, After all, he is “innocent, cheerful, heartless,” A chick, half human. * This is a Kensington bird Son of tweeting Catullus. He's a singer! "Giambatistas of Parables" Lured in and cashed out The relish of a thimble kiss!

entangled in a web of shadows, and you fly into the light - But native Neverland inaccessible to those Who at N-twenty years old stands at a crossroads. or In the end, after all, Forever and ever I will do what is not allowed. From the host of dreams, From lava words Second star from the right It will rise and then I will, You will We will Love.

Spread out at night And on a molten day I'm out of power You are beheaded. The day has been defamed The night was bloodied: You - not on purpose I am purposeful.

Flying monkeys the clouds took a fancy and They disarmed us Into the whirlwind of Gingema swirling: Well, goodbye, Kansas. * In the cradle - on the vale, Red dismantled, Courtesan smoking Dolly got over it... Morphine got in the way. Sprinkling with seed Red tomb Outside of Kansas Muravoy spoiled it The pupa is poppy color, At the same time - Totoshka. We walked along the road to Oz. Oz poetry

God gave me the Word I'll hold him back In a tarred bridle. I'll grab the reins And the stirrups are bolted I'll spur the horses. * My tongue is a Franciscan pretzel, Berk of the emblems of the Chrysostom bakeries. Language - a sharp-character scherzo Symphonies of a contralto bust. Not the sun! wormhole yaril! Gargoyle; apologetic ghetto; Bayan perched on the choir The altar is full of summer singing. Oh brother! Hosts! countryman! spring! Pipe. Aesop. Atavistic pramuscle. Language!

How long will I last? There are more In the hoop silk. Fingers - to the spindle? Ha ha! Fine? If I inject myself, I won’t wake up. If the prince Will perish Birds Blue Syscha, then let He will fall on his face to the beggars!

This is revenge. Next is Arbat. You command me: march! It's a pity Fal- Start.

Body to body - tight. Shadows everywhere: Is it you? Is it me? together? Tili-tili-dough! I dedicate the song I'm crane in the sky. All covered in goose bumps: The gesture of friendship is false - Eye to eye Your mouth also came to life, Pulling it out of its sheath Jaws: - I love! love poetry

(1) You are his if you want, touch. Wave-hair Until gray hairs, if it doesn't hurt, it's gone strip it. To him I - no, I don't think so - see you In every half-asleep. For me are being composed songs and Kiss. (2) No, not because you are beautiful, I would like to be you: So what? - straw mane, A body covered in fingers and trinkets. And not because she’s vocal - We are no strangers to pouring flattery into our ears. Throw your pearls before swine Small.

They're buzzing in my head Two vowels - consonants two. I silently agree After all You are me plus V.

A long time ago I published my fundamental opus FIG LEAF and VIEW on the Proza.ru website, on the Sigma website, FB. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1h1AWzGIAr_DPTpou5rzoJVO04yrI0ySwjUC4kSu4Mgw/edit?usp=sharing I substantiated the concept of telesex in the article FIG LEAF (I recommend reading it). But here I want to talk about the practical side. However, first, a few words about the general idea.

I don't know the Creator To whom I whispered prayers. The face is forged by them Yours, that means He is beautiful too. Because in the image yes Adam was created in likeness. * Strike me, O thunder! The serpent creeps from the mountains. We have stained the sun They produced ten sins. The apple blossoms are simmering. Adam's hell on Earth. * Headlong into the pool! To the Most High - Hallelujah! I believe and love! dv, a p o k e l u i

The stubble tickles your cheeks and not only - You also use words like a hedgehog, You sing breathtakingly. I'm on pins and needles. * I want into you - I want I'll dig in, I'll dig in, Like a leech, with your fingers. We've had enough of a draw And we will have to give in.

Nikolai Khrust Should contemporary academic music be popular or can it remain “research music for enthusiastic researchers”? Do academic music and avant-garde art influence popular culture? What is the difference between romantic music and 20th century music? What can modern academic music give to an attentive and interested listener? Is music the architecture of the mind and what do Husserl and Losev have to do with it? Yuri Vinogradov discussed these and other questions with Nikolai Khrust.

You'll kill yourself on the nose, There is no place for non-locals in the monastery Terabithia. Entrance is prohibited for you, strangers, To the country we call Territory.