CRISTOGIANNI BORSELLA

In his new book, Sicilian-American poet Julian Gallo writes of love, passion and longing for the Mediterranean.

I come by way of the trinacria

in order to drink the

Sicilian-Saracen-Spaniard bloodline

left by those who came before me,

those whose seeds watered by

the Mediterranean Sea only to sprout

under New York City sky.

Thus begins the poem "By Way of the Trinacria," by Julian Gallo--just one of many vivid, heartfelt works included in Gallo's latest book: A Symphony of Olives (Propaganda Press, 2009). Prior to reading this colorful little masterpiece of chapbook poetry, I was lamentably convinced that I was the only young Italian-American poet strongly emphasizing the concept of a pan-ethnic "Mediterranean" identity in my works. Fortunately, I was wrong. Gallo is, himself, living proof that an untold number of Italian-Americans still carry with them this Mediterranean identity (or Mediterranita`), even after many generations have passed since the time of the greatest Italian immigration to this country (between the 1890s and 1924).

A recurrent theme throughout Gallo's book, in his quest to reconnect with the "ethnic self," is the poet's longing for an idyllic return to his Sicilian-Mediterranean roots. One poem, entitled "Mediterranean Homesick Blues," especially exhibits this longing. (Taken from the last several lines.)

I seek your melodious voice amongst the

blast of car horns and the screeching of subway breaks.

I seek your gypsy song

and a symphony of olives.

I seek the light behind those dark Spanish eyes

to illuminate the path that will once and for all

lead me home.

Perhaps my favorite of Gallo's poems is "Java Cabana," which paints a picture of a Mediterranean identity common to both Italians and Hispanics, yet unfortunately overlooked or not conveniently recognized in our very race-conscious society. The following excerpt demonstrates this reality, and also provides rich background information into the proud ethnic traditions of the Gallo family--traditions which, themselves, defy stereotypical categorization:

I speak to her of how my father used to listen to this music

and how he loved the brass, the rhythms and she looked

at me, head tilted to the side, questioningly,

"But you're Sicilian!"

"Go figure," I replied.

Yes, go figure. In a flash of an instant thoughts

of my childhood home came rushing in,

with its gold walls, Spanish lamps, Afro-Cuban jazz,

Bosa nova, flamenco playing on the stereo;

the painting of the bullfighter my cousin painted on the wall,

because of my father's love for bullfights on channel 41,

and me watching Iris Chicon with him some nights,

the ever present bottle of sangria on the table

and my uncle's and grandfather's ever present guayaberas

on their backs in the tropical Miami heat whenever we were

on vacation there.

But yes, we are Sicilians,

from a long line of Gallos

from a place where Spaniards ruled for over two centuries;

a place where Arabs once built one of the biggest mosques

since Cordoba.

I used to tell her we have more in common than she realized,

but this was always lost on her due to conventional wisdom

propagated by those who really don't have any wisdom at all.

In other poems, such as "Muse" and "Fallible Gods," Gallo's themes are of sexuality and love. Overall, A Symphony of Olives is one of the most vivacious and genuine works of poetry that I have come across in quite some time. Furthermore, Gallo's thoughtful, open style makes it easy for people of all backgrounds to identify with the author's words and emotions. A Symphony of Olives, by Julian Gallo, can be ordered online at: alt-current.com. You won't be disappointed!