FEILE-FESTA
Spring 2010

Poetry

Tra gli Aranci (Among the Orange Trees)
- C. Aliberti
Winter in the Valley
- L. Basile
The Red Heather of Stenness
- W.K. Buckley
Holy Water (Acqua Biniditta)
- L. Calio
Landfall – Western Ireland
- K. Cain
Pizza by Vespa
- D. Cartaina
Screaming Like a Banshee
- B. Curley
Foreign Exchange – Armagh, 1965
- L. Dolan
The Little Flower Dethrones the Artichoke King
- G. Fagiani
The Urge to Dream
- D. Festa
A Blessing on Irish Women
- M. Flannery
Red Door
- CB Follett
Family Portrait (Ritrattu di Famigghia)
- M. Frasca
Language Lessons
- M. Galvin
Aboard the Aran Seabird: Leaving Inishmore
- J. Kearns
La Nebbia Veneziana [Fog in Venice]
- M. Lisella
Bakery Girl
- N. Matros
Envious While Leaving Innis Mor on the Ferry
- R. Moeller
Greeks Have a Word for It
- P. Nicholas
The Sicilian Talker
- J. Novara
Calabria Discovers the Sea
- D. Pucciani
Gun, Knife, Shovel
- E. Schear
My Father’s Religion
- E. Schear
Ancestor Conflict
- J. Wells
The World Has Moved
- A. Zanelli

FEILE-FESTA
Spring 2010

Prose

John O’Donohue: The Celtic Soul
- L. Calio
Legami Letterari tra L’Italia e L’Irlanda (Literary Links between Ireland and Italy)
- E. Farinella
The Last Fireman
- R. Junker
Our Lady of the Implantable Defibrillator
- V. Maher
The Blue Cat
- F. Polizzi

FEATURED ARTIST
Andy Kover

BIOGRAPHIES

Contributors

Kathleen Cain

LANDFALL – WESTERN IRELAND Ceann Dubh,* dark headland,           cliff that climbs out of water                    and carries on its back                              green fields                    divided by fathers           among too many sons for a thousand years. Like clockwork           like heartbreak                    it's cliff and field           cliff and field for fifty miles upriver But the dream of landfall begins           the minute we rise over New York                     floating in the belly of the air whale           all eyes and breath—keen as eagles off the coast of Newfoundland. Mid-Atlantic, last harsh words           from Hurricane Helene                     keep the tail fishing air                     all night, keep the Irish women           at their prayers—mantra of rosaries in harmony with the engines. Morning keeps its distance           not yet a certain point of light                     inside dark clouds                     but only one cloud           less dark than others with one hand up on the horizon. We search fog banks           big as islands below                     for whales, ships                     any flotsam, any           life we might claim and calm ourselves. Waves shudder below           a little longer then, until                     cliff and field                               are born beneath the wing Michael will say later           it was landfall near Dingle.                     I'll say Clare, near the Arans                     tell him how my spirit landed           and grew a root right on through to bedrock. *An Ceann Dubh = ahn ky(ANN) doov: a promontory, also known as Blackhead, situated on the western end of Great Blasket island, off the Dingle Peninsula.