Nikita Nelin

Story Weaver

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The Obligatory Bio in the 3rd-person:

Nikita Nelin was born in Moscow, Russia and immigrated to the U.S in 1989. He has lived in Austria and Italy, and has traveled the U.S extensively. He received the Sean O’Faolain prize for short fiction, the Summer Literary Seminars prize for nonfiction, and the Dogwood Literary Prize in Nonfiction, as well as being chosen as a finalist for the Restless Books Immigrant prize and the Dzanc Books prize. His work has been published in print and online. Nikita has conducted research through the Harriman Institute as well as translation through Yale Press, and has written on the convergence between fringe and at-large cultural trends for the Hannah Arendt Center. He holds an MFA in fiction from Brooklyn College, is a 2019 Associate Fellow at The Hannah Arendt Center for Politics and the Humanities, and is a member of the Southern Experience Collective.

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03/18/20 WP

April 02, 2020  /  Nikita Nelin

Bubba be special,

Humping back and forth between two worlds

With a rucksack full of brass,

And the musical poetry of the Bayou

Still cooling on his tongue,

Like the last morsel of something served in – yes, please! – too much butter;

Foie Gras, Andouille,

Or even anger at the bosses of the universe

Who have no want to steer this ship

And just collect their stipends.

Shiiiit, you crazy,

To believe

It aint’s gonna keep going back and forth

Like that bowler hat,

Gypsy beads in a cracked hand,

And Eternal Return.

But,

If I weren’t ready for surprises,

I’d never roll out of the old turf, its dank Friday night stands all polluted with unexamined presumptions;

I’d never be here now, by the light of every ancient civilization,

With love,

Sculpting masks,

Not so we hide – would you believe it? – but to help us breath.

There is many ways to cook up a storm;

Some of ‘em are beautiful

Comment
"Fantasy, abandoned by reason, produces impossible monsters; united with it, she is the mother of the arts and the origin of marvels." 
                                                                                     Goya