Poem: The World

Wrapped snugly in its holed coat of space and time, the world puts up the hood and runs away, never showing its face and always one step ahead, casting us off like loose change as it goes. But the world doesn’t really move anywhere; it’s like a balloon on a string held by a child,… Continue reading Poem: The World

Poem: Necromancy

From one day to the next, I never know when the face will show itself again in a mirror or a pan of water, as if unearthed by the ceaseless, circling plough of my mind. It’s always the same; a happy, younger me, long gone, the dead returned to speak with the dying. I wonder… Continue reading Poem: Necromancy

Poem: Waiting at the Water’s Edge

Another day of hope and nothing slides into evening’s apologetic grey; I’m in love, but I don’t know who with. Somewhere, upstream of love and poetry’s floundering strokes, she’s sitting as fine and clear as the first gasp of oxygen. It’s getting dark and once more no one’s turned up; every day’s just a poor… Continue reading Poem: Waiting at the Water’s Edge

Poem: Thursday

And rose. And fell. Once more. Something at the corner of my eye is thrusting its bony fingers into the gaping cracks of my life, pushing its stained fingers into the empty spaces where my life should be, where all my principles and goals, my reason for being should be safely bedded down. I rose,… Continue reading Poem: Thursday

Poem: Pilgrimage

After that, it’s all a blur, just a mass of people rushing past to get somewhere that seems important, and I’m the only one going the other way; twelve years of elbows in the ribs. Places I’d seen countless times through the grimy windows of speeding trains began to seem interesting, to offer the chance… Continue reading Poem: Pilgrimage

Translations of Italian Poetry

A small archive of translations of Italian poetry, including Pasolini, Ungaretti, Saba, Carducci, G. Rossetti, Cavalcanti, Corazzini, Pascoli: https://scflynn.com/translations-of-italian-poetry/ Previously published in Modern Poetry in Translation and Acumen.  

Poem: From the Notebooks of Poet J XIX – XXII

  XIX. TRUST ME   I sat for hours creating a poem in my head It was so complete, so perfect that I didn’t need to write it down     XX.        MULTI-PURPOSE POEM [Written in black marker pen on a kitchen sponge]   When a sad poem is required, immerse in water, read and… Continue reading Poem: From the Notebooks of Poet J XIX – XXII