Lovers and wife’s lipstick  leave rouge palimpsest  across my funeral arms,    tell the mortician ‘I’m so over them’  and my neck still slips from the rope    If my fingers could pull strings from the sun  they'd strum guitar across your breasts,  could you feel my absent  hands in...

... in which the inexplicable becomes even more so for L?nya, Tolya and Valya, while Boris Sergeyevich plays with plasticine and sets quests Lyonya, Tolyan, and Valya, leaning over the table and frozen in place, stared intently at a liter-sized...