FEILE-FESTA
Spring 2006
Poetry
Eritrea My Ithaca
- L. Calio
Escape
- P. Corso
Losing a Country
- M. C. Delea
Inclined
- EF Di Giorgio
A Sicilian in Potter’s Field
- G. Fagiani
a color called family
- J. Farina
The Past
- M. M. Gillan
Don’t Speak
- D. Gioseffi
Sharkia
- G. Hanoch
The Old Blatherskites
- T.S. Kerrigan
Seal Woman’s Lament
- C. Loetscher
Barefoot
- C. Lovin
L'amara Primavera
- Q. Marrone
Understudy
- L. A. Moseman
Brooklyn and America
- F. Polizzi
Death of Brahan Seer
- T. Reevy
For Sean Sexton
- T. Sexton
The City at the Center of the World
- A. Verga
Right Angles
- R. Viscusi
Agrigento
- J. Wells
FEILE-FESTA
Spring 2006
Prose
No Matter How Far
- L. Dolan
Ireland and Sicily: Two Islands
- E. Farinella
Southern Exposure
- M. Lisella
Because She Was
- J. O’Loughlin
Flying
- P. Schoenwaldt
Review of DANCES WITH LUIGI
- T. Zeppetella
FEATURED ARTIST
Melissa Kennedy
BIOGRAPHIES
Contributors
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BAREFOOT I remember that year I had only the red shoesto wear to school. I learned to hate shoes then, embarrassed by scarlet t-straps clashing with my pink angora or blue mohair, just so brother could go away to college. Capezios -to-match cost money and money was scarce as daylight had been in windowless shanties beside the mud runnels of Barefoot Nation, Illinois . Mother told me about Barefoot: impoverished immigrant Irish sharing one pair of shoes in each family of many-sized feet. Only one at a time could venture to town, walking the ten rutted miles in boots too small to lace, or strapped with baling twine to stop them from dropping off. I was a vain child then. What did I care of the dead who need no shoes? Now I see my arch is high and proud. Like hers. Like theirs. |