Anatoly Kudryavitsky lives in Dublin, Ireland, and writes in both English and Russian. He has published two novels, a few novellas and short stories, seven books of his Russian poems and three collections of his English poems, Shadow of Time (Goldsmith, 2005), Morning at Mount Ring and Capering Moons (Doghouse, 2007 and 2011), as well as A Night in the Nabokov Hotel, an anthology of contemporary Russian poetry in English translation (Dedalus, 2006) and Bamboo Dreams, an anthology of Irish haiku (Doghouse, 2012). He edits Shamrock (http://shamrockhaiku.webs.com), the international online magazine of the Irish Haiku Society, of which he is President. His poems have been translated into fourteen languages.
A ceiling gravitates toward the floor. Only transparent larch-trees, able to breathe in a closed space,
though invisible, can hold it up. The ceiling lies on their tops, and creaks, and groans in frustration.
The floor, however, is by no means drawn to the ceiling. Quite the contrary, it gravitates toward Mother Earth who never strives for anything but rolls like a ball from footballer to footballer, from kick to kick.