A Book About Moscow With A Different View

Sleeping While Dreaming of You

How did you get in my bones?

How did you get in my blood?

What made you come to me in the center of that

Frozen waste?

Deep Moscow,

What was the ancient magic word you used?

Is that how I saw beneath your eyes,

Into your skin as

It merged into mine

That first night,

All the nights?

In some extended remarks noted poet Gary Lemons (‘Snake’, ‘Snake: Second Wind’, ‘Snake: The Hunger Sutras’) had this to say about the book:

“If, as Auden suggests, “mad Ireland” drove Yeats to poetry then here we have the remains of a deranged Soviet—it’s frozen spirits and machine-gunned ghosts swirling around the reader in a lyrical wilderness peopled by soldiers and children and lovers and the re-animate left-over costumes from a demented yet fastidious age. The poems are historical windows behind which a dubious cacique sheds blood on the national carpet while outside the doomsday clock ticks down to Mertvaya Ruka or the Dead Hand.  Yet these are also curiously beautiful—even erotic—love poems where one holds on to another because there is nothing—in the end—more powerful than the given heart. Fearless and hauntingly important new poetry by John Huey.”

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