At first sight, Khlebnikov's world view, like much of his poetry, seems to be composed of various incomplete and incompatible fragments. There are his views on sound-meanings, his numerical researches, his world-government project, his dream of conquering fate, his conception of the prehistoric past, his enthusiasm for "inventions" and so on. Just as Markov sees a conflict between Khlebnikov's poetry and his thought, so it is possible to see a conflict between almost every element of his thought and every other one. His primitivism clashes with his futurism, his Russian nationalism with his universalism, his mathematical "ultra-rationalism" with his championship of transreason and his "formalism" with his revolutionary commitment. Khlebnikov himself was aware that he had not explained himself.[1] is great book on numbers and fate was left unwritten. Just before he died, it seems that he began almost to panic at the thought of what he had left undone. Fernaps also a sense that the revolution was cooling and failing added to his alarm. In any event, Khlebnikov's friend Spassky recalls that in the spring of 1922 there was a "disturbed aura" around Khlebnikov, which began to get worse. Spassky visited Khlebnikov in Moscow and was walking with him one day through some dark, winding alleys:
- Just then I remarked, I do not know why, that it was time to put Khlebnikov's work in order. I said that it was all scattered, a number of brochures, lost in space. Where is it all? There is no book to speak of.
- He reacted to this with unexpected passion. There was anxiety and excitement in what he was saying. He did not complain about any particular person. But he spoke about careless treatment of his manuscripts, about unrealized projects...
- In the spring Khlebnikov suddenly felt extremely tired. He would sit sulking in his brother's room. He would rush to the table, spread his manuscripts, panic, and sigh over them. He would rush to the Briks, full of anxious decisiveness. On one occasion he took me with him. He was in a hurry, as if anxious to explain something. In answer to the question from behind the door, he frantically shouted his name. The Briks were not in; Khlebnikov rushed on. It was as if he were looking for someone with whom he wanted to share some urgent reflections.
- Sometime in May he moved out of his brother's apartment and left Moscow.
- In the summer news came of his death.[2]
