Я желаю  Dva-Stula два стула, первый — крепкий со спинкой под девяносто градусов, такой сухой и мощный, стул, который бы с удовольствием снял Стив МакКуин, и второй, более приземистый, с мягкой бархатной седушкой и кисточками, в общем, в целом бы всем такие стулья, но получит их только Найман.

Posing

People — meeting, greeting,
freudian meat-eating,
competing, cheating, beating,
21st century child — central heating,
you’re broke (a cat food luncheon,
gangsta neo-bohemian rap sonnets,
cheap unlimited wine puncheons,
spring filth under nails) but honest.
You’re a manequin
of cocobolo wood and alabaster,
squattering the World Trade Center’s
splinters of concrete and plaster.

Reposing

Pimples, dangerous and blessed,
skin peeling the skin
until you are completely undressed,
until your soul's hanging on a safety pin.
The mannequin of yours
got drunker & better. You got to know —
death created time
to grow us,
death created rhyme
to make me write this,
You must continue growing
'cause everything around you is dying.

Composing

You entered the room
thought someone was sitting on a settee
but it were just —
your clothes
Four phases, one, two, free, four —
posing, reposing, composing,
decomposing. Get born through the backdoor,
buy a heart in a supermarket,
defrost it somewhere on a south pole
than it'll turn into a piece of black coal.
Look tentatively at madness
until it sees you.

Decomposing

The truth is, darling —
Death starts from 21.