THEFT OF LINES FROM KHLEBNIKOV the gouges in the sides of a tree a hill gouges on the surface of the river the larger birds we see travelling some of the longer distances Péeoo! Péeoo! pyak, pyak, pyak! drag their legs behind useless while they rely on their spread wings' power having opened with a surge of light the day closes its statement moving dullwards under blob clouds when the root stirs the old stem breaks at its base Ek, ak, oook! it has blown up the history of last season taking sides in the contest of memory and experience