Or Maybe Vodka – A Sputnik Poem


Sputnik says:

Vodka, always this vodka.
My spirit is a hemorrhage.
And suddenly I lose my glass,
and there is vodka all over the place.
God wakes up. Ho, ho, he is the old one.

I strengthen myself with the spirit
coming from Jesus Christ as poetic tirade.
Now I do not need to drink vodka.
I can drink of God with my very ears.

The alphabet is a weak medium
to fasten God into fixed words.
But nevertheless: I feel this joy
of having a part of him
here too.

I have discovered Jesus’ exceptional clear-sightedness:
He is a seer among us blinds –
a sun shining into the dark hollow of our eyes,
a glistering gift in the orbits, moy drug.

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