Marina Tsvetaeva and Me

I have read so many works by Marina Tsvetaeva since last summer that I'm totally obsessed by her. It seems to me that I have swallowed a whole world and that I now need to process it, much like an alligator digesting its huge prey. I have had a poem about her 2 daughters whirling in my mind for weeks. It's so heartbreaking, that I fear I may never be able to write it down.

Wish me luck!

2 poems accepted in Rogue Agent Journal

I am extremely grateful to Editor Jill Khoury for accepting two of my poems for publication in her Rogue Agent Journal. "Wishbone" was published in Issue 23 and "Rebirth" in Issue 22. They are somehow visceral poems. I hope you enjoy them!

Three poems in Menacing Hedge

I have three poems in the newest issue of Menacing Hedge. "Pockets Full of Stones" is a poem inspired by Virginia Woolf's suicide. "Meet me at Hotel Elsinore" was written after watching Hamlet 2000, starring Ethan Hawke. It is an odd movie which left a lasting impression. The third poem, "Seeking Francesca," was inspired by a visit to the Pastificio Cerere, here in Rome, one of the plants where photographer Francesca Woodman, took many of her iconic stills.

Check the whole issue and fall in love with Susan Yount's amazing collage! Many thanks to Editor Kelly Boyker Guillemette and all the other Editors.

First Poetry Publication of the Year

We are just a few days into 2017 and I am happy to celebrate my first publication of the year. Two of my poems have been included in the latest issue of Arsenic Lobster, edited by Susan Yount. The first of the two "70s Blues" is one of the first prose poems I wrote. It deals with growing up in the Years of Lead and it is a sort of "conversation" with my dad. I am very fond of this poem and I am glad it found such a lovely home. The other poem "The Fury of Hummingbirds" is a tribute to Frida Kahlo, one of my artistic icons.

Check out all the poems and reviews and thank you for reading my work!

In the End...

The end of the year is just a few hours away and I've spent the afternoon reading some poetry by Frank O'Hara. Some lines from his poem For the Chinese New Year and for Bill Berkson have somehow struck a chord. I am sharing them with you:


it is perhaps the period that ends
the problem as a proposition of days of days
just an attack to the feelings that stay
poised in the hurricane's center that
eye through which only camels can pass

but I do not mean that tenderness doesn't
linger like a Paris afternoon or a wart
something dumb or desplicable that I love
because it is silent [...]

My Poetry Year in Figures

Poetry and figures don't seem to get along too well, but they do on my record sheet. I have a file where I track my yearly submissions, as well as my acceptances and rejections. 2016 has been a slow year for me. Life and work have somehow hijacked my creativity, but I am particularly pleased with the few poems I have written, which are mostly prose poems.

This said, of the 85 poems that I have submitted, 15 have been accepted for publication. And, two of these poems will be included in 2 American anthologies.

I am also very pleased with my first all-Italian collection, A rima armata. It was indeed a pleasure to present it here in Rome together with Jack Hirschman and Agneta Falk Hirschman last June.

I still have to hear back from 2 literary journals about my 2016 submissions, but for the most part I am looking forward to 2017. I toast to more poetry and more words!

Paterson. A Movie About the Poetry of Small Things.

I was curious about Jim Jarmusch's recently released movie, Paterson. In the first place as it deals with a poet and poetry, and secondly because I truly loved his Only Lovers Left Alive, starring Tilda Swinton and Tom Hiddleston.

Jarmusch's mood permeate his movies in a unique way. The atmosphere is always the real thing even in his Paterson. The movie deals with an apparently simple story, the life of a bus driver, whose name is Paterson just like the small NJ town where he lives. We follow him as he wakes up every week day, goes to work carrying his lunch box and a notepad in his jacket, where he pens his poems before starting his daily rides or, after dinner, as he walks his dog to the pub to drink his daily beer. Life is simple, filled with the poetry of small things such as a box of matches that inspires him to write a love poem.

In this small town Paterson and his wife, Laura, are clearly not the average people. Despite routine they both strive to pursue some form of ar…