Poetry is another magazine and a final attempt. We operate differently and refuse to work within local contexts. We are not contenders.

Poetry is not a media outlet. We are not interested in reach; the economics of symbolic capital and the pragmatics of exploiting attention are foreign to us. We assume that our reader does not need to be entertained. In our work, we rely on the polyphony of individualities, accepted not by the majority of the public, but by an innumerable minority of professionals.

The focus of our interest is the figure of a private poet, whose muse possesses, in the words of Yevgeny Boratynsky, an uncommon countenance, and whose opinions often prove unpopular. Beyond the sharpness of the lyrical gift, the very nature of which defies definition, the key qualities of a poet for us turn out to be independence and rigor in creative exploration, as well as the habit of questioning everything—including one’s own correctness.

Our periodical is dedicated to the past, present, and future of Russian-language poetry in a global context. The magazine operates in the international field, invisible yet essential for survival, and does not regard gender and age, geographical and metaphysical coordinates.

Against a backdrop of mounting restrictions, against the need to make choices between minor and major compromises ever more frequently, we seek that third force that is always in opposition. We hope that time and again we will have that “shred of necessary courage” that Zbigniew Herbert wrote of: to stand firm and voice our doubts. Moreover, we find interest in conceiving Poetry as a refuge, a fringe where useless forces swirl, forces that have not yet been priced, as an interval where one can take shelter, briefly believe in the illusion: that there is no oblivion and never will be (as out of Oleg Yuriev), that one can remember—rise again (as out of Boris Poplavsky).