Beppe Costa- Italy

1. Even now that the moon

Even now that the moon
what’s it worth if when you were there
she was already gone.
Even now that the moon is here, you are not
and I wonder if even the stars are playing with you
like you and I still wonder if in the land,
where you willingly went there is the same moon and the same sea

Even now that the moon returns
if you perhaps return, you’ll return different
you won’t be with me anymore,
I no longer have light or stars in gone universes,
I often had my thoughts all for you

And I find no other, I seek in vain before
the moon returns while you’re not here.
You are no more and
I wonder if the moon plays tricks and deceives,
or has accomplices or tyrants of love,
that moon which is not there.
And I here, sitting before the threshold
and you, looking at another sky, another sea
where the moon which is not here
there exists!

2. I’d desire earth

I’d desire earth
the smell of leaves and ants
grass, dried tree branches,
I’d sit and watch my body
covering itself with insects

I’d desire the sea
let my body be covered with water
go down to the bottom
to discover light and extinguish it slowly
and die like a fish caught

I’d desire heaven
to pass through clouds and beyond
to intrigue birds,
which eventually fearlessly would start pecking
and fall back with no more heart

I’d like to hear it beating, the heart
to amplify until bursting
I’d like to think about my years
all together

3. Childhood

I don’t know
the sea sound
I feel it like one upon a time
I see it in the not anymore romantic
howling of the wind
the polluted sea which is no more quiet
or I am upset by love
not anymore thinking about doing something
I wander around rooms without memories
white walls with nothing to hang
no memories
where I store only the body
a chair, a bed, and a wardrobe

The dreams of music, books disappeared
the colours of age disappeared

Desert

Desert, not for tourists
desert dusty inside,
of dust and smoke
inside me
without traces or returns
no abandonments
I don’t know where to stay

if I put myself crooked and supine
turned towards the wall against the roof
and upside-down
I do not hear the sea ringing
in the storm
I do not hear the wind’s howl
It’s not romantic anymore
not even the moon for Mozart
dreaming murderer

I conceal myself for the following day,
which obstinately returns

Look
the sea is coming
with its waves slamming
and the wind howling
I carry with me a few grams of Mozart
Four months, three houses
The sea no longer screams in the winter
neither Mozart plays
nor the wind slams
the doors in the front of the coffee shop
with their coats bear-men
noise of trucks
There’s no Mozart living
nor the sea sound
you don’t even look at me
you did not prevent
the sea from playing,
or the screaming wind of black clouds
from
taking me away

Despite this,
I love the howling sea

4. I, with my heart

In this world
Still living of brains
I, with my heart.
Where ‘humanity’ is spoken with numbers
And in this time of terror
I, with my heart.

Where stabbing and accounting
Make anyone fall,
On this ground of crimes
I, with my heart.
Where life is paid per hour
And quality is paid per kilo
In this place with no more flowers
I, with my heart.
And I remember your tears from a distance
Your smiles and eating in the street
I, with my heart.
Where two people make
Their wedding bed,
A kid, a school,
A sickness, a sociologist.

I, with my heart
But how long for?

5. Poetry

Poetry does not wear elegant clothes
It has neither shining spaces
nor wide breaths
it is immersed in the endless sorrow
of a constantly wounded humanity

Poetry has no accomplices
It has no applauding crowds
or intentions of love
It is locked into the hearths of others
often devastated and disappointed
with exhausted bodies

Poetry searches for followers and lovers
of a word out of key
often mute and deaf
written with shed blood
and with uncertain and
often invisible words

6. The earth (is not) the sky!

dust surrounding destroyed houses
eyes wide open of smiling child
despite the darkness of everything around
I thought you are born to learn
but the earth (is not) sky!

not to conquer, to discourage, or to defeat.
We wanted to learn how to walk
to find out if even the moon has eyes
or if we could reach it in flight
but the earth (is not) sky!

and everyone is smart or stupid
persuaded with words or bombs
to conquer a piece of land

but the earth (is not) sky!

for every taken or occupied piece
other pieces vanished in dust
is this the reason to be alive?

but the earth (is not) sky!

7. My parents

Some memories of a father
marvel of small change
transformed in so much wine
one only strong memory
the wife in white
flown away from the window

and there was not much wind

8. I love

I love the earth I do not have
the woman who gave me
sons who are free
the pencil and papers I devour
the music that suddenly sets in
and all that saves me
from what I hate
men in blue for the parade
the parade for the saint and the hero
credit cards and those of games of debts
I love the treasures I find
the muses in form of legs
I love those who stop me for a cigarette
but I hate the paper that limits me
I love those who lie by nature
when nature rebels
I hate those who court for glory
those who are glorified after having stubbed
and I love all the sun that shines
but above all I love when it makes way for the moon
I love you, never accomplished search.

Bio
Beppe Costa was born in Sicily and now lives in Rome. In 1976 he founded the publishing house Pellicanolibri that has also become a well-attended bookstore. He has published in Italy works of notorious international authors, such as Fernando Arrabal and Manuel Vázquez Montalbán. He also published books by Alberto Moravia, Dario Bellezza, Arnoldo Foà, Adele Cambria, Anna Maria Ortese, and Goliarda Sapienza.
Costa wrote several books of narrative and of poetry, among which Impaginato per affetto (Pellicanolibri) won the “Premio Alfonso Gatto” in 1990. Other books are Anche ora che la luna (Multimedia Edizioni), which came out also on CD; Rosso: poesie d’amore e di rivolta (Volo Press) in 2013, La terra (non è) il cielo! (Gilgamesh) in 2014. Costa allowed the “Legge Bacchelli” to pass for the first time in Italy in favor of Anna Maria Ortese.
Many authors wrote of Beppe Costa, such as Mauro Macario, Giacinto Spagnoletti, Luce d’Eramo, Antony Costantini, Lia Levi, Silvano Agosti, and Denise Waltz Ferreri.
He now directs the book series “Inediti rari e diversi” for the cultural association.

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