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Spring 2011


- R. Baldasty
Beloved Albatross
- D. Bastianutti
From Trã Bãn
- K. Cain
The Current (La Corrente)
- L. Calio
Down with the King
- M. Cirelli
May Mass – 1957
- L. Dolan
- G. Fagiani
Persephone’s Devotion to Her Mother
- M. Fazio
- V. Fazio
- D. Festa
L’Amour, L’Amour on Summer Afternoons (L’Amour, L’Amour D’estati Filuvespiri)
- M. Frasca
- S. Jackson
- W.F. Lantry
Little Swift
- R. León
Since You Asked
- M. Lisella
Dublin 2010
- V. Maher
39 Fifth Avenue
- C. Matos
Sunrise in Sicily
- A. O’Donnell
Watching Monzú at Work
- F. Polizzi
L’incontru (Rendezvous)
- N. Provenzano
Propriu Quannu Sta Scurannu (When the Day Is Almost Over)
- N. Provenzano
Bones (Le Ossa)
- D. Pucciani
- E. Swados
Mount Etna
- G. Syverson
Poet Jack Foley Says, “We’re Not Writing for Eternity
- J. Wells
Lord of Winter
- A. Zanelli

Diego Bastianutti

Beloved Albatross

Are the dead my credentials?
What’s my pain worth?

Through the thick fog of time I still recall a living
frontier on the move:
the Oder crossed by Germans trading fears
with Lublin-fleeing Poles,
Sudatens and East Prussians drifting
from Berlin to DP camps
Slavs purging Italians
from their ancestral home
all fleeing, criss-crossing
the scorched, blood-soaked lands
of the Imperial cauldron
limping, shuffling, clutching
relics of an order forever gone
which no alchemist will ever

– DP –
the newly minted global entity
­his forehead, hands, and ass rubber-stamped
deloused, poked, probed, palpated, re-named, classified, consigned,
invoiced, re-routed, detained
de-fascistfied, de-communisted,
ignored, uprooted, and re-planted
in virgin foreign soil.

Now and then I still stroke
half-consciously my beloved albatross
for I cannot let go
the one ghost-feather
my fingers keep brushing by
– Fiume –
too often she's whispered
"you're mine"

Perhaps one day I'll say "I'm sorry" and leave her,
but... not just yet,
as I finger rusty keys
whose locks seem lost