Posts Tagged ‘ Vittoria repetto ’

Vittoria Repetto reads from my fingers wonder on Vimeo

 

Vittoria Repetto read at The Bureau of General Services—Queer Division with Linda Whalen Quinlan on November 22. I went to hear her. I think she has been one of the movers and shakers in the LES poetry scene over the last few decades, and of that generation, too, that took it to the streets to fight for Gay Liberation back in the day. The poet is also a chiropractor, whose hands not only write but heal. At the Bureau, she read from an unpublished manuscript, my fingers wonder, with her unapologetic New York accent, West Village, growing up on Cornelia Street, in the 1950s, Italian Americans, bohemians, artists, gays, a quiet block where folks lived and let live; and where I think, the poet, with sense and sensibility, stayed. We are there in those hands of hers holding the poems where she wonders as she wanders, sensual and knowing, and kind, pressing down on lover and client and listener too, words we can feel, touched by the sound, it is true, before we hear it vibrating on our eardrums into words. Listen and enjoy. – Don Yorty

Source: Vittoria repetto reads from my fingers wonder – Don Yorty

Three Poems by Vittoria repetto – EOAGH

a poem of thanks

in my 20’s,
coming home
3am from the dyke bar
i climb the stairs up from dekalb station.
a monarch butterfly flutters on the stair lights;
lost from its course.
thinking someone might hurt it,
i wait ‘til it closes
its wings together,
softly grab the paired wings
wait for it to relax its legs;
once taught to me
when i was a kid
by the old italian guy
who grew morning glories
next to the bocce court on leroy.
i cup the monarch in my hands like a prayer.
out on the street,
3 young guys
coming from where i need to go
say
hey dyke!
where you going, dyke!
i figure i’m in trouble
then i remember
i still have the butterfly
and need it let it go.
i turn,
face my future beaters,
lift buddhist prayer hands to my face,
open and push the butterfly away.
it flies towards their faces.
the 3 guys duck,
confused and startled.
as the monarch goes safely to its course,
i too
go safely home.

 

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poems by Vittoria reperto at EOAGH