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A sequence of disconnections
a play in 12 minimal movements



various poems




A sequence of disconnections
(a play in 12 minimal movements)

A: Sydney is beautiful!

B: No, Sydney is cruel!

A: No, Sydney is beautiful!

B: No, Sydney is cruel!

A: No, Sydney is beautiful!

C: Sydney is beautiful and cruel.


Raskolnikov killed an old lady to make a point.


A sequence of disconnections


A: This is an asylum.

B: No, this is an exile!

A: No, this is an asylum!

B: No, this is an exile!

A: No, this is an asylum!

C: This is an asylum and an exile.


The rays of sun as tough as one week's stubble
Grasp rock and sand, but never ice or marble.


A line of beads in sand


A: Those lines don't cross...

B: And yet, they are not parallel.

A: They remind me of a ladder.

B: They remind me of spokes from the wheel of time.

A: They remind me of the cross. But only remind.


And dryness settles for long, forever,
For the river has told its beads.


Exile healed him. At the river bank covered with pale moss, with a prostitute beside him in a scarf scarlet as the lung blood, Raskolnikov eventually repented - not without the help of the old lady, now long dead and presumably free, who otherwise would have ended up miserably in an asylum.


A: Beauty is cruel. Take Sydney!

B: But is cruelty beautiful? Take Raskolnikov!


O beautiful exile! O cruel asylum!


O rusty rails, where the West ends.

Sydney, 2008




dream facilitation
thesaurus entry


dream facilitation

(enter the saurus)


24/7 per second

city light in slow motion

per se (*)


pile of pages that cannot be turned

enlightenment in progress

broken communication

broken silence



per se

per se police

per-se polis


perception failing

echoes falling

city made of posters: new

city made of echoes: old

and thus a sample of olden rhyme
(whose production cost's nickel-and-dime):
in concrete of loving heart
men and women're taking part
and symmetry
of their affair
is a cemetery
of breathed out air
from talks,
from sighs,
from gasping,
from cries,
from moans of love,
from smoker's cough,
from garlic,
from yeast
there's only left the silent mist -
it's removed like a cyst,
healed with plaster.
in the soaked thick of posters
our youth will live forever.

hour youth will leave forever



being modern is tiring, being traditional is boring
from art disposable to art recyclable
being disposable is modern, being recyclable is an art
modern is disposable, being is recyclable
pre-disposed to being
from tradition to tradition
being is a tiring art




a pre-recorded conversation with a friend
from rest to rest
the air tired to shake
no lake, no sea, no sight
light sliced
the chopping board scrubbed with sand
end of the river for today
no al[li]teration allowed




no shade
no space
a stale deluge, dry
spade aside



thesaurus entry


music for prepared audience ruark lewis
from ear to ear
from mouth to mouth
so near
open string open letter open borders
country open | country prepared
keep clear
stay at the distance
travel in space
gear from a $2 shop
in the whitespace
a necklace of rusty nuts
pays gold, the joy of a far-fared



today's koan

holy stick




1976 | ancient
theme park car park
1976 ruined more than rome
(i went to school then, i was not even 10)
a counter-tenor | up-to-date
wor[l]d freed from capitals at last
("du Dom" | google it)
do you still have that name?
the speed of sound: one mile per century
past recorded | past replayed




i | privileged access
ii | impenetrable
iii | intersubjective





o long lines that flow like horizontal tears
o tears in the terrain and paper that lead the flow
o mute intermissions between vernacular saturdays
o autumn that never becomes winter anymore




whitegoods of the west
lit porcelain
a whitespace
milk before bedtime



a table

definitions | final
draught | techically defined
a catastrophy not worth mentioning
deluge holding our weights
birth and death | reshuffled metaphor
birth | always unnoticed
eden | no weather report



privacy of metaphor

privacy of metaphor
metaphor of privacy
a manifesto limited to me
also this:



a table

poetry | pottery
touching | touched
fired | burnt
in a table | on the table
dark inside
breaking the order
reordering tables
ordering a burnt meal dark on the side
in turning wheel rhythm forbidden



final note



Sydney 2009





city walls: bark of glances

legumes in iron armour

words: cheapest resource word mine explosion: three trapped

professionally profound

compose | dispose 

the sin of regularity

one more time immortality

relentlessly pursuing happyness 

scavenging for meaning of life


Sydney 2009-2012

various poems 


*  *  *

my shadow soundlessly collided
with the shadow of a bird;
my soul collided with another -
no sound either.



*  *  *

alone in the universe
alone in the verse
versed in loneliness



*  *  *

in the beginning was lol
in the beginning was laughing out loud
in emptiness
in the dark
like a duck
like a frog
in emptiness
in the forest fog
as if after rain
as if after pain
which was not there yet
there was not any there yet
only a laughter
and He saw that it was good.



*  *  *

scales of the fish that never comes to tropics
but arches over the sky over the bay
over the top if i may try or may not to knot
to steer away from pots with tender smell
and colour of home of morning of heim
of morgenrot when pickled sun which isn't
expired yet with morning papers morning
internet or web with gems of dew all duly
missed the day is set as solid drawers of
an old desk with dust in corners and
a 5-cent coin which no longer buys but only
rests or even shines enshrined as a medal
for a boring daily courage to be cut by
ultra-violence and ultra-violet that
alternates with well tempered shadows like
stripes on the body of a tropic fish a
painted spear a scale a scarf a pierced veil
the day that drags like snail with trail of
wet memories that glare and shift and
quickly dry without time to mold or set



new year's eve 10 km from alice springs

black sun of the night black uv skin protection
geological time on the clock | countdown
crumbling walls of central empire still warm
forbidden city | entry fees apply




reflection is not a part of the object
since a tree may fall and a dog may run away
and also since the dog cannot stop and reflect
reflection is not a part of the water
since it is anything but water
and also since the water surface is so devoid of itself
reflection is not a part of the eye
since the eye only consumes the light and rarely radiates
and also since the eye can blink and wipe off the world
reflection is not a part of the brain 
since the brain is too a thick liquid tickled by electricity
and also since the brain resides in darkness
reflection is not a part of the mind
does it have soul of its own?
will it be taken back to the light when the evening comes?




humans have souls inside
but the souls of potatoes are in their skin
just like human skeletons are buried in flesh
while skeletons of insects are outside
that's why macdonald's chips don't go to heaven


* * *

my faded old backpack
with holes brings me luck
it was given to me by my partner
that's why it brings me luck
when i am tired of walking in the heat
i feel my backpack and remember
that my partner gave it to me
that's why it brings me luck
i remember that we still are together
that's why it brings me luck
my restless mind finds rest
and cool shade in the heat
my sight clears up
my fear goes away
i see the rocks
and don't trip over them
i see people and i smile to them
that's how it brings me luck





disconnections 2008++ vsevolod vlaskine

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