IMPROVISATION# 116

ROBERT ROZHESTVENSKY TIME
(1932-1994)

Your lips stuttered
in the Soviet snow
from an iron and steel age
heavily lifted and dropped
into a thousand shades
and shadows of  a caravan
and cage of a child's eyes
all with way from Moscow
from your wise language
a if you slept to ride on clouds
in a birdsong's wing
by the lakes or burdock
in the Arctic circle to Yerevan
searching for a country bouquet
of violets in the marshes
or awakening to the city crowds
from a wellspring's crash
into the steppes of your shroud.