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Click title to download PDF microchap
Cover: ‘Barquinho em Repouso’
by Marcel Caram of Brazil
Facebook/Instagram: @marcel_caram
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Ship of Fools
Find a storm in the tree
the devil in the ribbon
Check if the bottom
still keeps the abyss at bay
Remember: you’re not the captain
you are the captain’s captive
Your soul, rank grass
your day, eyeblend
The mad sail flaps
with a delayed collapse
Have a glass of ice peas
watch the bible boat downsize
These weak men of winter
their red-alarm noses
Credit: A) GLIMPSE) OF), April – July 2020
A Flood after the Flood
The word for world is water.
O calculating hands!
In the wake of the raven,
waves of dovetailing ravage the sky.
The captain’s books have become traps
for the bees of your tilted eyesight.
Which of your “you” has time for you?
Under the child-painted sky, sailors
dive into their fathomless habits.
Some torso reads his greyly bread.
Some shoulders say, We’re stuck
inside our pet tritons.
The dead have a quicker sense of surreal.
Tristram of Cornwall
I don’t speak your eyes.
Whatever you lantern, I
invoke.
We incur what we wizard.
A birdcage that sings to a belfry.
A silkworm of thrill.
Man is his own compass.
My sight, dispatched to peregrinate.
Lapwing me to the wind.
Happiness, static as beauty...
Brain is a substance creator.
Fortresses of dawn, my sentinels...
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Tibet
The distance that wants to drink
your want;
droplets of birds’ blood...
In a few tomorrows’ time
we’ll add them to the roster.
Smaller than five-terraced mountains
but larger than perennial darkness;
red as Uzbekistan.
Why, what and how?
Phantom is a phantom is a cold kiss.
Tomorrow is a dead man’s word.
Half-night, half-resurrection.
And the valleys
digging indigo.
Credit: Shot Glass Journal #26, 2018
Caucasus
Landscape with blighted stonegrowth
the acidulous sky you sleep in
a bird-eye view
into another bird
The moment’s shard message
true as flint:
emboss
A rethought silver sea
its blackness
bluer than equilibrium
Your hair plays trees
shadow eyes emit autumn
Montparnasse
The boulevard, a river of trees.
The Sun’s sparkling pulse...
Nothingness is crowded,
wordlessness crowned.
Man needs a heart
to map his address.
You are your fear of multitudes.
The wind flutes through your head,
through your nothing.
A congealed past, ripple by ripple.
The meeting of eyelids and centuries.
Every man is a sky.
Credit: Shot Glass Journal #32, 2020
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Anatoly Kudryavitsky © 2021
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Anatoly Kudryavitsky lives in Dublin, Ireland, and in Reggio di Calabria, Italy. His poems appear in Oxford Poetry, Poetry Ireland Review, The North, The Prague Revue, Plume, BlazeVox, The Honest Ulsterman, Cyphers, Stride, The American Journal of Poetry, etc. The most recent of his six poetry collections are "The Two-Headed Man and the Paper Life" (MadHat Press, USA, 2019) and "Scultura Involontaria" (Casa della poesia, Italy, 2020; a bilingual English/Italian edition). His new collection entitled "Sky Sailing" is due from Salmon Poetry, Ireland, in 2022. His latest novel, "The Flying Dutchman", has been brought out by Glagoslav Publications, UK, in 2018.