An Italian-American Writer & Poet with a Yankee Outsider Perspective
Carol Bly, that deep-thinking, acerbic Minnesota essayist, once wrote about “thinking things over at Christmas.” She was living then with her husband, the poet Robert Bly and their children, on the western Minnesota prairie. There’s something about facing wide stretches … Continued
In the vacant Roman villas of Boscoreale and Oplontis (lst century BCE), architectural landscapes advance and retreat across room after room. On one wall, an image of a small round temple sheathed in columns rises from the top center and … Continued
In the vault of The Old Citadel, my mother sits on a saggy sofa in the huge bedroom she shares with my father. She’s reading to us before bedtime. It’s maybe the only time of the day when she sits … Continued
Meaning we go back a ways. Meaning with her jaunty, gravelly voice, Janet was apparently above death. In an illness that would have put most people in a wheelchair, she gamely refused. Throughout the years, we played all sorts of … Continued
He sat at the edge of holiday chat, bent forward as if he wanted to catch the drift, but talking more with his face than his voice. When the subject turned to health, he revealed that he was a nurse. … Continued
He was carrying a sign, standing beside the inside turn before you entered the freeway. I didn’t have to read the sign; I knew what he wanted. Money for food. A few months ago someone who looked like a woman … Continued
Well, not entirely reluctant. I “submit” my pre-formed letters protesting delisting this, fracking that. I contribute almost all the funds I allocate to “charity” to help hungry downtrodden people and protect global lands and seas from pollution, degradation, and ruin. … Continued
To some, such a notion might seem like heresy, but lately, I’m repositioning myself vis-a-vis the canonical figures of Christmas. I want to add a Mother Christmas. No, not in Father’s sleigh. He can soar with his huge pack of … Continued
It’s very northern of us, this tree-in-the-house at Christmas. I know, there are Celtic precedents, something about mistletoe, holly and the Druids, but the Christmas tree itself came from Nordic folk around the Baltic Sea, worshipping what remained green throughout … Continued
I know, we are supposed to treasure our fellow creatures on this steadily shrinking planet. But there are limits. My limits start with bats. Pipistrelle from French or Italian; ours are probably myotis. From our first year in this tall … Continued