Angelo Verga
Verga has appeared in over 150 poetry publications; he is widely anthologized and has been translated into a dozen languages. He is descended from Sicilian & Ukrainian Jews . His seventh and most recent book is Long & Short, including The Street in Your Head (2016). He was an owner of The Cornelia Street Café, where his literary programs (1997-2015) provided a home for poets & audiences alike. He is currently a resident of Harlem, USA. Contact Angelo to purchase signed books and/or arrange manuscript consultations. bronxpoet1@gmail.com
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/angelo.verga.9
To buy books directly: Venmo @Angelo-Verga
Reviews:
https://www.amazon.com/Long-Short-including-
THE ROMANCE OF MONEY
On the longer sides of a tapered table
Officials, division heads, directors
All quick extenders of fictions
Amplify whatever she thinks
Her suggestions are unmatched
Her dress is hotter than all that
Her earrings are money clips
Her lips are warm molasses
If you’re lucky enough to get into
Bed with her, she is utterly fantastic
Poverty just can’t fuck you as often
Or well, as lubricated wealth
AT SHUL
The ripe tomato girl on the other side
Of the mehitzah is wearing red heels
And smiling at me as she sings,
Singing at me as she smiles,
Guttural Biblical Hebrew
In her alluring, unmarried voice.
I am so horny, Most High Lord,
God of Moshe, Abraham, Isaac,
But also soaked with blood Ariel Sharon.
I so wish I’d become a corporate lawyer,
An eminent surgeon at an esteemed hospital.
I might’ve been elected by a princess
To become her king, the chosen one.
BLASPHEMY AGAINST
HER DIVINE MATERNITY
That’s what pisses Mary off, those who deny
She in fact gave birth to a Jewish boy
She spits them out of her immaculate mouth
Speaking of which, Joseph didn’t ream her
An angel covered her with androgynous wings,
She was and remains an eternal virgin
Not like that jive dancing “Madonna” in videos
Nothing ever got stashed in her lady parts.
She will expose those demonic “artists,”
Who mar her icons on billboards and subways,
Drawing moustaches, dicks dripping in her holy lap,
Crayoned speech bubbles that make her mouth
“Call me for a good time, I’m praying you will.”
GOOD-LOOKING
AND SMART
My mother said the day I was born
I’d be smart, very, very smart,
And she added I’d be sharp.
She could have said I’d be handsome,
But she didn’t. Wealthy, she didn’t.
She foretold I’d be smart,
As if that were the key to life.
The day my mother died she said
Son, you can buy smart, you just can’t
Buy happy, that’s what she said to me.
My shrewd Mom got the whole
Guidance thing upside down.
What she gave me at the end
Would have been helpful up front.
UNDER SCAFFOLDING ACROSS
FROM SAINT NICHOLAS PARK
Even in this cold March rain
And plague-frightened air,
Spring threatens to attack today.
WHAT I HEAR AT NIGHT
Fireworks, mobile speakers, thunder
The voices of people speaking at the same time
This is babel, yet I hear whatever I feel
If I’m anxious people plot against me
The tribe from which I’m excluded
Doesn’t want me, I have no friends
The voices on the radio say the same words
Every hour or so, the headlines do change
But what’s going on doesn’t, no strong reason
To go on is provided, but survival is an end
Unto itself, safe poems are lauded by ladies
Whom I’m sure wear dresses and have smooth legs
AGREEABLE
You got to be smart, says the do-rag salesman
Sitting on a metal folding chair in November wind
And though I see no persuasive basis
For such an allegation, no numerical data
To uphold his claim, I agree with him
God takes care of those who do good deeds
Says the preacher over the Blood of Christ boombox
That washes deeply into the Sunshine self-serve laundry.
And I agree with him. Because I am an agreeable guy.
