Lo Galluccio, Not for Amnesia – On The Cutting Edge: 2 by Marc Zegans
Welcome to CUTTING EDGE no. 2, the second edition of Marc Zegan’s thought-provoking, in-depth discussion of the poetic craft. This month we are being treated to poet, memoirist and vocalist Lo Galluccio and her collection Not for Amnesia (Cervena Barva Press, 2023), written in Brooklyn, in the early 90s, after a romantic breakup. Trying to survive as an artist in New York, her poetry mines everyday experiences and produces literary gold dust, inspired by Stevie Smith, Anne Sexton and Sylvia Plath.
To read the full review please click here: On The Cutting Edge: 2 If Not for Amnesia Lo Galluccio
Lo Galluccio is an American poet, memoirist, and vocalist. Her chapbooks include: Hot Rain, Ibbetson Street Press; Terrible Baubles, Alternating Current Press and her prose-poem memoir Sarasota VII (Cervena Barva Press, 2008) about death, place and desire by the Atlantic Ocean. Her three vocal CDs are on Spotify, Amazon Prime.and Bandcamp. Lo served as Poet Populist of Cambridge between 2013 and 2015, and she has been nominated for three Pushcart Prizes in Poetry.
FURTHER DETAILS
Marc Zegans is a poet, spoken word artist, and creative development advisor who helps artists, writers and creative people thrive and shine, see: mycreativedevelopment.com
In addition to his broader creative advisory practice, Marc consults with emerging poets on the development of their craft. He writes periodically about creativity and innovation, and politics.
He is on Instagram @marczegans. He is listed as zegansmarc
He is also on LinkedIn and Facebook
4 responses to “Lo Galluccio, Not for Amnesia – On The Cutting Edge: 2 by Marc Zegans”
Thank you
You’re most welcome Matt. Glad you enjoyed it.
I am indebted to Marc for this fiercely intelligent close reading of the poems that constitute “Not for Amnesia.” It is a poetry of “glimpses” and I heartlily approve of the stanzas/poems he has chosen to single out: “the street’s sweet/unisex replete.” and “You whine for sleep your mouth/sawing itself and curse/what splinters your head,” and “Boo hoo, where are you?/boo hoo, without you what’ll I do?” I was like a child abandoned in the crux of brownstones of Brooklyn, looking around, taking in the fallout, making pies of language out of what I felt/saw. In his multi-layered tribute/review, Marc was able to catch the nuances and the child-like fragmentary rhyme schemes of these poems. They were a balm to me at the time. I’m glad he found some redemption in the final poem, “Self-pity with Lipstick,” in which I am willing myself into a new state of being, somewhat sado-masochistic but realigned: “truth sliver, a dither/ a doo. Jiggle pieces/slash beef, make do./Suck the whip girl, you.” That directive to make do, to go on, was ultimately the saving grace in the wake of loss. I can’t thank Marc enough for this brilliant analysis of this early chapbook. His genius shines.
It was a true honor and privilege to spend time with “Not For Amnesia,” and to have occasion to write about it. I hope that it travels far and finds many fine readers.