Ivan Pozzoni

Edited and Published by

Tamikio L Dooley, Co-Editor Pencraft Literary Magazine Bangladesh.

Sincere thanks Tasneem Hossain

Poem-1.

HOTEL ACAPULCO

My emaciated hands continued to write, 

turning each voice of death into paper, 

That he lefts no will, 

forgetting to look after 

what everyone defines as the normal business 

of every human being: office, home, family, 

the ideal, at last, of a regular life.

Abandoned, back in 2026, any defense

of a permanent contract,

labelled as unbalanced, 

i’m locked up in the centre of Milan,

Hotel Acapulco, a decrepit hotel, 

calling upon the dreams of the marginalized, 

exhausting a lifetime’s savings 

in magazines and meagre meals.

When the Carabinieri burst 

into the decrepit room of the Hotel Acapulco 

and find yet another dead man without a will, 

who will tell the ordinary story 

of an old man who lived windbreak?

2.

THE BALLAD OF PEGGY AND PEDRO

The ballad of Peggy and Pedro barked out by the punkbestials 

of the Garibaldi Bridge, with a mixture of hatred and despair, 

teaches us the intimate relationship between geometry and love, 

to love as if we were maths surrounded by stray dogs.

Peggy you were drunk, normal mood, 

in the slums along the bed of the Tiber 

and alcohol, on August evenings, doesn’t warm you up, 

clouding every sense in annihilating dreams, 

transforming every chewed-up sentence into a gunfight in the back 

on armour dissolved by the summer heat.

Lying on the edges of the bridge’s ledges, 

among the drop-outs of the Rome open city,

you opened your heart to the gratuitous insult of Pedro, 

your lover, and toppled over, falling into the void, 

drawing gravitational trajectories from the sky to the cement.

Pedro wasn’t drunk, a day’s journey away, 

you weren’t drunk, abnormal state of mind, 

in the slums along the bed of the Tiber, 

or in the empty parties of Milan’s movida, 

with the intention of explaining to dogs and tramps 

a curious lesson of non-Euclidean geometry.

Mounted on the edge of the bridge, 

in the apathetic indifference of your distracted pupils, 

you jumped, in the same trajectory of love, 

along the same fatal path as your Peggy,

landing on the cement at the same instant.

The punkbestials of the Garibaldi Bridge, cleared by the local authority,

will spread a surreal lesson to every slum in the world 

centred on the astonishing idea 

that love is a matter of non-Euclidean geometry.

3.

THE ANTI-PROMISE TO LOVE

Anti-poet, victim of my anti-poetry,  

all I could do is dedicate to you an antpromise of love,

my anti-promise of love would have the features of a synesthesia, 

the Stalinist hardness of steel and the softness of colour, 

the finesse of friendship and the consistency of love, 

your white eyes turn me into a hydrophobic cynic, 

and there’s no doctor for rage, my love.

An anti-promise of love to be read before a registrar, 

as to convince a tecno-trivial world, 

i’ve loved you since June 1976, perhaps, in truth, since April, 

i was an embryo and you were still immersed in the aurora borealis, 

for six years you would have been an angel, a ghost, the inessential of a fractal, 

without batting an eyelid waiting for you, six years, thirty-six years, with nothing to say, 

the sheep of Panurge’s contemporaries would condemn me to total silence.

You are my anti-promise of love, and the idea may seem imperceptible to you,

i observe you sleeping, serene, like a crumb abandoned in a toaster, 

my love I am stripped of the role of ‘sapper’ – it is abyssal like a submarine, 

condemned to scatter torpedoes under the (false) guise of a dogfish. 

4.

BALLAD OF THE NON-EXISTENT

I could try to tell you 

with the sound of my keyboard 

how Baasima died of leprosy 

without ever reaching the border, 

or how the Armenian Meroujan 

under a flutter of half-moons

felt the air in his eyes vanish 

thrown into a mass grave;

Charlee, who moved to Brisbane 

in search of a better world, 

ends the journey 

in the mouth of an alligator, 

or Aurelio, named Bruna 

who, after eight months in hospital 

died of AIDS contracted 

to hit a ring road.

Nobody will remember Yehoudith, 

her lips carmine red, 

erased by drinking toxic poisons 

in an extermination camp, 

or Eerikki, with his red beard,  

defeated by the turbulence of the waves, 

who sleeps, scoured by orcas,

on the bottom of some sea;

the head of Sandrine, Duchess 

of Burgundy heard the rumour of the feast 

as it fell from the blade of a guillotine 

into a basket 

and Daisuke, modern samurai, 

counted the revolutions of a plane’s engine  

transhumanizing a kamikaze gesture into harakiri.

I could go on and on 

in the stifling heat of a summer night

how Iris and Anthia, deformed Spartan children 

were abandoned, 

or how Deendayal died of deprivation 

attributable to the single crime 

of living the life of an outcast 

without ever having rebelled;

Ituha, an Indian girl, 

threatened with a knife, 

who ends up dancing with Manitou 

in the anteroom of a brothel 

and Luther, born in Lancashire 

freed from the profession of beggar 

and forced to die by His Britannic Majesty 

in the coal mines.

Who will remember Itzayana 

and her family massacred 

in a village on the outskirts of Mexico 

by Carranza’s retreating army, 

and what of Idris, the African rebel,

stunned by shocks and burns

while untamed by colonial domination, 

he tried to steal an ammunition truck;

Shahdi flew high into the sky 

above the flagpoles of the Green Revolution, 

landing in Tehran with his wings torn apart 

by a cannon shot,

and Tikhomir, a Chechen bricklayer, 

that fell among the indifferent faces

to the ground from the roof of Lenin’s Mausoleum,

without comment.

From objects of narrative 

fractured into fragments of non-existence 

transmits distant sounds 

of resistance.

short Biography

Ivan Pozzoni was born in Monza in 1976. He introduced Law and Literature in Italy and the publication of essays on Italian philosophers and on the ethics and juridical theory of the ancient world; He collaborated with several Italian and international magazines. Between 2007 and 2018, different versions of the books were published: Underground and Riserva Indiana, with A&B Editrice, Versi Introversi, Mostri, Galata morente, Carmina non dant damen, Scarti di magazzino, Here the Austrians are more severe than the Bourbons, Cherchez the troika. et The Invective Disease with Limina Mentis,Lame da rasoi, with Joker, Il Guastatore, with Cleup, Patroclo non deve morire, with deComporre Edizioni. He was the founder and director of the literary magazine Il Guastatore – «neon»-avant-garde notebooks; he was the founder and director of the literary magazine L’Arrivista; he is the editor and chef of the international philosophical magazine Información Filosófica; he is, or has been, creator of the series Esprit (Limina Mentis), Nidaba (Gilgamesh Edizioni) and Fuzzy (deComporre). It contains a fortnight of autogérées socialistes edition houses. He wrote 150 volumes, wrote 1000 essays, founded an avant-garde movement (NéoN-avant-gardisme, approved by Zygmunt Bauman), with a millier of movements, and wrote an Anti-manifesto NéoN-Avant-gardiste. This is mentioned in the main university manuals of literature history, philosophical history and in the main volumes of literary criticism. His book La malattia invettiva wins Raduga, mention of the critique of Montano et Strega. He is included in the Atlas of contemporary Italian poets of the University of Bologne and figures à plusieurs reprized in the great international literature review of Gradiva. His verses are translated into French, English and Spanish. In 2024, after six years of total retrait of academic studies, he return to the Italian artistic world and melts the NSEAE Kolektivne (New socio/ethno/aesthetic anthropology).