Three Poems by Claudio Perinot

 

 

Sacred Wood 

 

The Hamadryad’s breasts 

and nipples were 

bark-brown, like her 

insides drying in the sun. 

 

Turning away, he mused 

on the difficulty 

of representing the 

divine in time. 

 

He already knew that 

the Roman emperor 

(his soldiers urinating 

in the rain), 

forcing his entry into 

the temple, 

would find 

nothing. 

 

Which was logical: 

the inexplicable is nothing 

(not viceversa). 

 

What would ensue was the 

frantic stroking 

of the fish’s belly 

with dirty fingers. 

 

 

Butterflies 

 

A tombstone sky tumbled above 

stubble in fields. 

 

Days spent answering them with auguries. 

Unknown things, dark as wild honey, 

 

slaked the creases in dry throats, 

and thoughts then whirled to rebirth, 

 

becoming words 

with blood-blue veins 

and light-green wings. 

 

Atomic of the Soul (or, The Dying Words of Rt. Rev. Angel Raymond V.C., as Recorded by Buñuel, His Massage Therapist and Closest Friend). 

 

in ever-greedy parts of cosmic monumentals

reaps the bushy breast a newborn

 

with spitting initials that send a cry to the heavens

 

the embracing mouth will smother thoughts

 

atomic of the soul 

but maintaining the spirit of catastrophe

and rubbing organs of origin in perfect glee 

nature will come to leave us evermore let us be

 

atomic of the soul 

numbers perfect moisten wheels of fortune turning 

chimes of golden purity churn the smoke

 

which hovers lazily over putrified matter

 

and chicanes of glory rise to the nation of the lies

 

encompassed by grey and surviving to the noose

 

atomic of the soul 

smooth wastes of space the openness of the sky

agglomerates of dusky beings prostrated in pain 

atomic of the soul forever atomic of the soul 

crevices in brains display the system of delight 

for almighty beans on milky-white stallions

 

of legumes and tending to the limit

 

to the limit of time and space and mass

 

atomic of the soul

 

atomic of the soul forever atomic of the soul 

golden flies the newborn through tons of view 

of void eyes of stainless steel

 

of wrinkled hands of age

 

of passed experience spent in outskirts

 

of maddening constructions of

 

atomic of the soul 

puke grains of feeling

overrun run the targets 

towards the point of no return

 

forever atomic of the soul

 

forever atomic of the soul

 

atomic of the soul 

deuteronomy of craving set against the wall 

noughts of naught and vegetables organic

 

all flow to see in puddles of melancholy

 

sickness through puss noodles to mud 

feeding victims regained from enormity

with arms in folds over paprika sunset seas 

atomic of the soul 

the lightning that hails all through the dark 

like unceasing hate of dogs that bark

 

but a silent being will extend a

 

limb and spray his liquid

 

to wash the stains accumulating

 

active action against thinking theory

 

atomic of the soul 

but squeezing sons of accidental profusion

levers vulcanize infidelity through 

see-through flimsy flesh covers

 

baconed chili mornings of snow caviar

 

neat rows in boats watered by profession

 

the shout rings out oh saint damnat

 

intentionally use your bachall

 

atomic of the soul 

sounds of lithium marrow painted by the side

no go nougat barbiturate armchairs everywhere

bricks of philosophic uranus love deposited to

 

be in narrow sidestreets while skiing starts or

 

not to be fashions trespass that is the purple

 

question academic honours whether 

 oh yes I will yes

 oh atomic of the soul

 ah forever atomic of the soul

 ah

Claudio Perinot is a bilingual retired teacher from Italy. He graduated from the University of Venice in English and Spanish Language and Literature. His poems have appeared in Eleven Bulls, Theviewfromhere and Cricket Online Review, and are forthcoming in Antiphony and The Journal of Compressed Creative Arts. He was longlisted in the 2021 Briefly Write Poetry Prize. His research on the Eliot - Verdenal friendship has been published in Annali di Cà Foscari, ANQ and South Atlantic Review, and is often cited in studies on T.S. Eliot. He is disabled and lives with his wife and two sons.