mark 8:36

every last piece of evidence
dissolved as i lay there in silence
the gold rush of my youth had gone
with nothing to show for in my pan
they steeled their bonds with stagecoach power
left me to rot in riverbed dreams
built their nations on monied towers
groundhog foundations all the way downstream

who cares that i’d had better angels
who cares that they were both now gone
who cares that i’d compromised my self
who cares that i’d vainly strove to fit in

& just like that, i saw men raptured
fond memories, their bullions in tow
they were headed for headier climes
as i died face down, the dead of noon
was fortune a living catastrophe
i was simply forced to decay through
a treasure refined for all but me
rippling away, spangles downstream

who cares that i’d needed dnipro
who cares that i’d gambled george town
who cares that the world could only take
who cares that i could now only break

every last bit of evidence
just like that, had raptured away
the gold rush of my youth was gone
my bones left behind to clot in dreams
the world had taken all it wanted
the little that i’d held in my hands
the fulgurate clumps long picked clean
by bream, the rest long washed downstream

who cares that i’d puddled down under
who cares that i’d puddled in ukraine
who cares that i’d struggled for it all
who cares that i’d done finally fall

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

we were glossolalian

did you know this song was written for you
for my halves both & what we heathen were
we didn’t need always hold us inside
for three to abide
each breath’s suppression of rising horror
foretold our last for to rot in our shells
still in these spaces we let love abide
while we could abide

& the treetops swayed throughout all our days
now their roots reach down into our decay
the nourishment of our fading in dirt
& the love inside
all dogmas & empty puffery spent
& the former lives we laid wreaths upon
enkindled to the last our chosen tongue
tra la la, tra la la
tra la la la la
tra la la

did you know this song was chiselled in clay
each note an impression of quelled dismay
a triptych of anthems named for the day
for three to abide
all we wanted was renewal here now
clear hearts to drum away the chill of now
for to see we three through to noonday stride
while we could abide

& the treetops swayed throughout all our days
now their roots reach down into our decay
the nourishment of our fading in dirt
& the love inside
all the blue grey craters of the moon say
there’s no man in the sky or dreams to weigh
just enkindled nullifidian tongues
tra la la, tra la la
tra la la la la
tra la la

& here in the earth we three will abide
tra la la, tra la la
tra la la la la
tra la la
treetops unearthing the love deep inside
tra la la, tra la la
tra la la la la
tra la la

tra la la, tra la la
tra la la la la
tra la la
tra la la, tra la la
tra la la la la
tra la la

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

autumnal lights

nothing but regret
is this how we truly are
i think i feel us
enclasped in this tested life
have you forgotten to breathe

today was better
but we’re so very old now
grief soaken eyes now

has pain dimmed your sight
trauma lines your folded bones
the horizon’s dreams
banish away sun’s last light
can we forgotten aright

today was better
but you’re so very cold now
closed soaken eyes now

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

TATI’s AND TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // A Kiss. by Robert Herrick

What is a kiss? Why this, as some approve:
The sure, sweet cement, glue, and lime of love.

by ROBERT HERRICK (1591-1674)
Public Domain Poetry

TATI’S TRANSLATIONS // Young Ukrainian Poets: Darii Lazhnevskyi

Literary classics aren’t always created by the greying elder statesmen and women of the writing world. You know the ones. They’re all wise and wrinkly and impassive, and woe betide the scholar who dares mount an honest critique of their bodies of work.

You see, literary classics are also written by upstart youngsters. These youngsters are full of vitality and creativity. They live fully awake and fully aware during these very difficult times. Nothing escapes their notice and they’re unafraid to share what they really think. They walk among us right now, breathing, smiling and crying, loving and hating, experiencing the full range of their humanity without apology.

This series presents names that you won’t find in textbooks or on Wikipedia, but these are the very youngsters who are creating modern Ukrainian literature right now. Trust us, you will want to check them out because it’s only a matter of time before they become household names. When we go back to these writers in two hundred years, we have no doubt that they’ll be mentioned in the same breath as luminaries such as Taras Shevchenko and Lesya Ukrainka.

the last letter to K

dear friend,
i miss
your dreams come no more
to me in reality.

if you knew
how many fates were twisted,
smoked away, half-eaten by dogs
how many letters gather dust in mailboxes
concolourous with dried blood
and how many vows left behind only poetries
somewhere in the bowels of my telegram.

i am much the same as usual
outside the window are the crooked teeth of apartments
with leftovers of the staled unsaid
just got more quiet
it nestles on my knees, purrs,
eats away all my hunger
and i feel the thirst for life no more.

dear friend,
god turns off the light
sleep, i will carry your love protest
i will carry your hate
i will carry your sexual desire
depart with ease
let your fear continue hereafter
suffocate in oblivion.

останній лист до К

милий друже,
я сумую
твої сни уже більше не проходять
до мене на яву.

знав би ти
скільки доль скручено,
скурено, виїдено собаками
скільки листів запилюжені у скринях
кольору засохлої крові
і від скількох клятв залишились лиш вірші
десь у надрах мого телеграму.

у мене ж усе так само
за вікном нерівні зуби квартир
із недоїдками закипілої недосказаності
лише от більше спокою
він моститься у мене на колінах, муркотить,
з’їдає мій весь голод
і я уже не відчуваю спрагу до життя.

любий друже,
бог вимикає світло
засинай, я берегтиму твій протест любові
я берегтиму твою ненависть
я берегтиму твоє сексуальне бажання
помирай спокійно
нехай твій страх і надалі
задихається у забутті.

Original poem by DARII LAZHNEVSKYI
Translation by TETIANA ALEKSINA

© All rights reserved 2024