SoMa Blues in LEFT CURVE no. 36


I am incredibly grateful to Csaba Polony editor of LEFT CURVE for having included my poem "SoMA Blues" in the latest issue of his prestigious magazine. I wrote this poem during my 3 weeks stay in San Francisco in August 2010, at the time I met Jack Hirschman in Caffè Trieste. The poem was inspired by the homeless people in the area of South Market that I met as I was walking along Market Street one day. I was very touched by what my eyes witnessed. 
Next April 29th at 5:00 pm there will be a celebration for the release of the magazine at City Lights Books, don't miss it of you are in town! You can read my poem here below.


Ringrazio infinitamente Csaba Polony per aver incluso la mia poesia "SoMa Blues" nella sua prestigiosa rivista LEFT CURVE. Ho scritto questa poesia a San Francisco durante la mia permanenza di 3 settimane nell'agosto 2010, all'epoca in cui conobbi Jack Hirschman a Caffè Trieste. Ad ispirare questa poesia sono stati i senzatetto della zona di South Market, mentre mi trovavo a camminare lungo Market Street. La scena che mi si presentava dinanzi agli occhi mi ha profondamente commosso. Il prossimo 29 aprile alla City Lights Books avrà luogo la presentazione della rivista. Non mancate, se siete in città! Potete leggere la mia poesia qui di seguito. 

SoMa Blues
                                                

7 p.m.
    South
        Market
               plays
                       its
                    moaning
                           Blues
                             as
                     I walk
                along
             the   
     crowded
 street

full of
  miserable
                men,
                     holes
                 in soles
                    and
           desolate
       notes of
    crying
flesh.



          "A dollar
       for a burger,
     PLEASE", says
         the hoary
             lady.



NEED CASH FOR
ALCOHOL RESEARCH
 

reads the sign that
  a young man holds 
  in his weary hands.

I pass by with a sense of 
sorrow and impotence
for these dostoyevskian
               creatures

s
a i l
 i
 n
 g
                                                    their drunken hungry boats
                                                         on an invisible bread
                                                              and alcohol sea



  My bucks for your
  desolate kingdom
  of nursed bruises,
       licked scars.
               Oh
    wingless fallen
   angels populating
  the barren streets,
 I cannot mend your
s
 h
   a
     t
       t
        e
          r
           e
             d
                 dreams,
       I cannot heal your
                poor souls.

 I can only wail at
 the crisp SF sky your
derelict stories and
  our memento mori.







Comments

  1. Love that poem, Alessandra. And I remember that guy, with the sign, Need Cash for Alcohol Research. hehe...

    ReplyDelete

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