Monday, July 15

Month: January 2022

Fiction

We are seeking stories from the diaspora

Pummarola, an online journal of arts, politics and culture, is seeking works of short fiction for our upcoming issues. Pummarola seeks to capture the spirit of what it means to be part of the Italian diaspora, but with an interest in all expression. We recognize the intersection/crossroads of the Italian diaspora with that of many cultures and groups, including but not limited to Indigenous, African American, Latinx, Feminist, LGBTQ communities, and as such, we welcome work that reflect those experiences. At this time, Pummarola can offer no payment for contributions. Please see our submission guidelines for more information.
Ros’e Argende
Poetry

Ros’e Argende

Ros'e Argende by Douglass DeCandiaRos'e Argende is the name of a folk song from the Montemarano, Campania region, that inspired the poem. It means Rose and Silver in the dialect of the region.I heard a song today An old songfrom the old country It sounded like wind and spoke of longing Though I did not know the words My body became a field of poppyand wheat And for a momentthat was the forever of this song Time lost itself in me And we circled together Backand aroundand forth again Untetheredin the wind. ------- The original song recording https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jH4w3B5qPaMRos'e Argende, read by the author: Original lyrics:Ros' e argende se n'ha jute,E la signora è romanuta, Ohì signo', ohì signo',Ros' e argende, è ros' d'amor. La signora è romanuta,E a l...
Stracciatella: A Sprinkling of This & That

Minestra: Monday Mid-Day Dinner Up the Farm

by Joanna Clapps Herman Excerpted from her book, When I Am Italian: Quando sono italiana. Part one of a three-part series. Photo: Annie Spratt, www.unsplash.org My cousin, Bede Becce Avcollie, the first born of my Aunt Bea and Uncle Rocco, grew up on the farm in Waterbury, Connecticut where the oldest ways of cooking went on for the longest in all of our families, because it was a pig farm and they had a huge kitchen garden. They made their own prosciutto, sausage, capicollo. They canned tomatoes, pears, lots of other things too, and made their own cheese. My grandmother was the originator of all of this cooking who, even while she reviled my Aunt Bea mercilessly, simply because Aunt Bea wasn’t from an Italian family and married her only surviving son, taught her all of her cook...
Opinion

Fighting the Good Fight & Celebrating Together — Post-holiday Ruminations on Migrant Prisons

Inflatable boat in the Mediterranean carrying migrants bound for Europe. U.S. navy photo by Chief Information Systems Technician Wesley R. Dickey/Released. by Elena Marcheschi I consider myself fortunate that the recent holidays brought with them gratifying moments of communal joy and wellbeing.  At the same time, the season provided plenty of reminders of old and new forms of human oppression.  Oppressive practices have always been invariably contested by other human actors, whether in ancient or modern garb, engaged in a dialectical dance of resistance and fought-for liberation.  Themes such as these have haunted humanity’s holidays for a very long time. It began with the burning candles of an early 2021 Hanukkah, celebrated as a commemoration of the successful r...
Poetry

An Epiphany: January 6, 2021

by Peter Fortunato Little Christmas, as it used to be known,January 6 of the Julian Calendar, though who remembers why?What irony that on the day of the Epiphany, when the newborn Christian savior was revealed to three wise men,the U.S. Capitol was assaulted by barbariansin the name of a deceiver!Some were simply servants of the Lie,others, ignoramuses, but there’s no excusefor their attempt to nullifythe votes of millions.   In the year since then, I haven’t hearda public comment that relates the ancient feastto that event, when instead of bearing gifts to honor Baby Jesus,  insurrectionists bore arms. No preacher that I know has spoken out aboutwhat seems to me equivalent to desecration, but then, I’m not a church...
Poetry

Poems: Teaching Tools, Rapini

By Joey Nicoletti   Teaching Tools My brother, am I allowed to work less on reactions, which are taxing for me to manage in the moment?   For instance, did I hear you correctly when you said Buddha is a four-letter word?   Did I understand you when you said Ahmaud Arbery wasn’t murdered?   Do I have to be on the same timeframe that everyone else is on? Am I allowed to go for a walk, stop   and enjoy all that any moment has  to offer me, such as a shot of Bailey’s  in a fresh cup of hot chocolate?   The look of concentration in a muscular acrobat’s eyes,as he throws a chair   and a petite woman  in the crisp December air,one after the other?   Am I allowed to marvel  the radiant smile  on the woman’s face   when she lands in the chair, his ripped arms as still as ...
Poetry

resistance requires a guerilla memory

by Charles Tocci Photo by Charles Tocci She died in a bus shelter outside the CVS. A few blocks down, bunching traffic, congesting the neighborhood for hours,  before filing out, quiet and dark. We were left to wonder just what all the lights and sirens had been about. And then the morning after, it was gone. JC Decaux, paid millions, power washed it clean: Sidewalk, bench, and an ad for Blue Cross Blue Shield. When curiosity turned to Google, the Trib reported a woman, disheveled, roamed the CVS with a kitchen knife. Startled employees call the police, who arrive post-haste to North Sided distress. Cops, finding her, now out in the bus shelter, yell to put the knife down. And failing that, attempt to tase her, and fail at that. So when they say she...
The perennial mystery of La Befana
Stracciatella: A Sprinkling of This & That

The perennial mystery of La Befana

by Stefania Puxeddu Clegg Cari lettori, As we approach this time of the year again, a question arises: how do we (educators, parents) introduce Befana --- this folkloristic, kind, old female character --- in very simple words to school children, and how do we justify her presence shortly after Santa’s visit? Source: Wikimedia The character of Befana most likely originated from Northeastern Europe (Belarus, perhaps), possibly evolved, and, like Mary Poppins, followed the southward winds and landed in Italy at some point. How and why do we have her deliver even more gifts on the 6th of January (as if whatever was received on the 25th was not enough) was never really clear to me. And why on earth does she have to uncomfortably ride a broom rather than a camel (like the W...