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Maria Terrone reading to a full house
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By Giovanni di Napoli
Last night I had the great pleasure of attending a poetry reading at Cornelia Street Café, an intimate venue in the heart of Greenwich Village known for its poetry and musical performances. The featured poets were George Held, Maria Terrone and Romanian born Claudia Serea.
First up was George Held, who did an excellent job as master of ceremonies. He read several pieces of poetry, including some excerpts from his wonderful children's picture book Neighbors: The Yard Critters, Book 1. We even got a taste of the upcoming sequel Neighbors too. I especially enjoyed "The Large Blue Sonnet," which is influenced by the notebooks of Wallace Stevens.
Maria Terrone followed with several poems from her award winning collections, The Bodies We Were Loaned and A Secret Room in Fall. I was looking forward to hearing her read again, and was especially delighted by a new poem that she dedicated to the Iranian writer Mohsen Fathizade, who translated her works into Farsi. As always, Maria's intriguing poetry touched on a variety subjects, both past and present. She also recited one of my favorites, "Blood Oranges," in homage to her Sicilian heritage.
Closing the evening was the highly prolific and extremely talented Claudia Serea. Ms. Serea read some very touching and powerful poems from her new chapbook The System. Inspired by her father's horrific experiences as a political prisoner in Communist Romania, the poems evoked the nightmare of living under totalitarian oppression. She also read some moving passages from her Angels & Beasts and unpublished works.
I apologize for not having better a photo.
Blood Oranges
Provenance: Sicily
Two nails deftly applied to skin expose
an interior life not red–
though that would shock enough–but red
blackened by the color of blood spilled
and dried in history’s shadow.
an interior life not red–
though that would shock enough–but red
blackened by the color of blood spilled
and dried in history’s shadow.
You would expect a thousand years
of conquest to produce a bitter
taste. Then how can this sweetness
be? Beware of strangers,
my mother warned, joined
of conquest to produce a bitter
taste. Then how can this sweetness
be? Beware of strangers,
my mother warned, joined
by her parents’ blood to a sun-blinded isle
of secrets. Never trust appearances.
The Sirens were enchanting,
bird legs and claws hidden
behind long hair that blew glorious
of secrets. Never trust appearances.
The Sirens were enchanting,
bird legs and claws hidden
behind long hair that blew glorious
as their song over the Straits of Messina.
Sometimes, when fierce currents
force up the deepest dwellers,
their phosphorescence makes the sea
a silver lure to ensnare unwary
Sometimes, when fierce currents
force up the deepest dwellers,
their phosphorescence makes the sea
a silver lure to ensnare unwary
travelers–one more Fata Morgana
in a place that loves mirage. So what to make
of these gifts concealed in twisted
tissue? As someone before me has said,
Beware the fruit of your darkest wishes.
in a place that loves mirage. So what to make
of these gifts concealed in twisted
tissue? As someone before me has said,
Beware the fruit of your darkest wishes.
