Only the moon came over the hills—a good nurse in sensible shoes. My breath caught in the branches of my ribs. The only house
—Heraclitus (translated by Brooks Haxton) This stone is older than its human shape, having had no say in becoming this. Sea wind forgives its
When the doctor asked about the abyss I feel in my bones, I showed him a box of bent wires stripped from the radio
—Sergei Korolev in Kolyma Gulag, 1938—1941 This is how Stalin fed us in the gulags: cold and hungry, we became our own fuel.