- Published: Thursday, 18 January 2018 16:02
- Published: Thursday, 18 January 2018 15:52
"In the" Eratoterapia "Collection, Giuliano Ladolfi Editore, the transparency of the joy and the conviction of living sends glimmers as if even the turbid and restless Arno as we suddenly became a clear torrent.
“Un manto di luce rossa
sulle acque dell’Arno
Grigia la fuga dei ponti.
Sullo sfondo un aereo
in discesa, trafitto
da schegge di fuoco.
Aleppo è vicina.
E il rosso del sangue.”
- Published: Thursday, 18 January 2018 15:48
"Erato is the muse of love poetry: ergo, the title chosen by Roberto Mosi evokes the potential therapeutic capacity of writing in verse. Nothing new, but obviously we need to shift our attention to the presupposed element: because of what pathologies do we have to resort to the treatment of poetry?
The answer is not explicit. The author never declares which external factor determines the movement of the pen. We must therefore look for the reason for their writing in the verses themselves. The first disease that transpires is the absence of references, of places to find a home, in which to be "at home". So, at least, we read the different texts dedicated to physical places, mainly located in the city of Florence - where the author lives, which configure a transparent but very solid mapping in which not only Mosi, but also, with him, the reader ends up meet again, avoiding the disorientation caused by the many non-places, as Mosi calls them, declining a term so dear to Michel Foucault.
- Published: Tuesday, 09 January 2018 17:02
A cura di Lorenzo Spurio
I struggled a little to read his book; [...] this is not in any way a review, has no ambition to show itself as such. It is clear from his lyrics a clear preference for forms and images of classicism and this could not be otherwise given its nature, its inclination and its interests that they see the teacher in that branch of knowledge.
Beyond the exquisite workmanship of the book that testifies as always the superfluous editorial care of a publisher such as Ladolfi, I read his book in numerous shots, often returning back, rereading even two or more times some lyrics because perhaps a single and summary reading could not be considered sufficient to allow the reader to have interpretive tools. This is clearly a company that always takes the form of a book of poetry: on the one hand we try to understand what the poet really meant, on the other we often conclude that poetry is merely a communication -evocative, that is to say that it can - indeed must - be realized on several levels and therefore provide for various exegetical keys. Understanding what one is able to see and what that one thinks of seeing you.