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The
Shop of the Busy Ocean
Vladimir Orlov
The shop
of the busy ocean
closes down after its blazing shift of day.
Its beaches, surfs and ships now stand
ingrained in the magnifying glass
of the star-lit display window
inviting a tired traveler to call by,
as the first shafts of the morning sun
melt the ice of the window glass
of heavenly repose and nature's rest
frozen in the freshening shift of night
under the Milky Way of Eternity
never traded in the shop.
The Overdue Train of Revival
Vladimir Orlov
Visions
are performing the ghoulish funfair
of their foolish nightly dance,
funereal in its full-bodied fury.
We are bathing in a gently rippling
canvas of our long overdue
catafalque train of revival,
roughly, wickedly, angrily daubed
by the vile and marauding hands
of the alienated Fate of common sense.
The canvas
unfolds of its own accord
before our haggard eyes of
self-appointed martyrs mesmerized
by the self-inflicted bites of snaky troubles
and daydreaming in the habitual oblivion
of a spellbound reluctance to wake up.
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