Once upon a time, Vladimir Putin shot himself in the head and billions around the globe rejoiced. Steven Seagal, however, did not rejoice. He mourned the death of his boyfriend and never made another shitty martial arts movie ever again. And this too caused the billions around the globe to rejoice. The end.
P.S. Though one other person did cry… but who cares?
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023
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.
Untitled
When everything ends
The sirens grown numb
Loved ones will be hugged
Properly, as they should be
Following the north wind
I will reach an areal of tears
Mighty and ancient
I will bow to the ocean
And begin to cry bitterly
I will give my soul
To heal children’s wounds
I will give my blood
For the lives of veterans
I will give my heart
For the devouring of the fucking war
Ripping it out again, and again
For the memory of the deceased
For the memory of scars
I will give my body
To dissolve in a wineglass
I will give my life
For this free, unsubdued land
Lay here forever
With my happy
Bones
Без назви
Коли все закінчиться
Зніміють сирени
Близькі будуть обійняті
Як слід, як треба
За вітром північним
Дістанусь сліз ареалу
Могутньому і древньому
Вклонюсь океану
І гірко заплачу
Душу віддам
Щоб дитячі загоїти рани
Кров я віддам
Щоб жили ветерани
Серце віддам
Сучій війні на поталу
Вириватиму знову і знову
Щоб пам’ятати полеглих
Щоб не забути про шрами
Тіло віддам
Щоб розчинитись в бокали
Життя віддам
Щоб на вільній, нескореній землі
Залишитись
Щасливими
Кістками
Original poem by POSEIDON
Translation by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2023
“Ahchoo!”
I was running late. I should’ve left fifteen minutes ago but a sneezing fit put the kibosh on that.
I sneezed from the front door back to the bathroom cabinet where I hoped the antihistamines were. I saw myself as I opened the mirrored door, all streaming nose and puffy eyes.
“Ahchoo!”
I looked at my watch. I should’ve left five minutes ago. Stop… five? I rubbed my eyes. No, the time was right. So, what would I need to do to get back to not being late? Get another sneezing fit? Cough? Fart?
Time travel, eh? Who knew?
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023
a girl and a dog sing under my window
the minor falls, the major lifts
and all my disquietude drifts
off to one side and out the door
the sky full of stars and the moon so blue
moths take a fancy to my table lamp
my cheeks recovered from their former damp
and the thought in my head that boys don’t cry
i look at the pile of crumpled sheets
the last blank page in my shabby sketchbook
the promise of less is all it took
to end at the start and cry some more
so i draw the girl and her funny dog
the stars and the moon, moths and the lamp
and this seat of emotions will subtly shift
to slough off the shadows when morning comes
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023
white foam and grey ash
on the brim of my tumbler
a plated mushroom head
with poppy seeded tundra
radioactive pine nuts
scattered over snack dish
an off-white triangle
its perforations kissed
lo, i drink to the health
of whomever killed him
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023
unbolt me 