An unyielding fever of 103, the Sochi Olympics, and a state of
inspirational semidelirium came together as Vladimir Azarov sat in front
of his television, images swirled in his mind like a waltzing
kaleidoscope. Memories from decades past were triggered as the Pussy
Riot girls were being whipped by Cossacks. Marilyn Monroe of Some Like
It Hot became his muse while he composed recollections: his first trip
to Sochi in 1962; sitting with Henry Moore at his home in Much Haddam;
discussing verisimilitudes with Pasolini, art with Frank O'Hara, film
and acting with Leni Riefenstahl; shock at terrorists killing Israelis
in Munich. As the 2014 Games ended, his fever abated. This remarkable
book of poems arose from those two weeks.