FICTION
Guy Gallo’s fiction and poetry have appeared in BOMB Magazine and Mississippi Review. In his most recent poetry project, Gallo collaborated with British violinist Peter Sheppard Skaerved on “The Great Violins” series (Athene/Divine Art - 2015), contributing poems that draw on his lifelong love for classical music. The series was inspired by and will be dedicated to Gallo.
EXCERPT FROM "LEFT OVER AGNES"
“It came to me just this afternoon. I was resting my tired, calloused and corn-cobbled feet, letting my too high-heeled shoes slide down to the toes, stirring too much sugar into a café au lait at the Morning Call section of the Refreshment Center in the Lakeside Shopping Mall. I realized that love was no longer an option.
I cannot claim to know precisely what that means. The phrase came fully formed, of its own accord, the way memories sometimes strike, or mysterious odors. A sudden pain crossed my heart…and settled in my gut, that seemed to me a sign: here was a truth I needed to mull on more.”
POETRY
FICTION
Quarter Romance - a novel - Love and Mardi Gras; a sketch artist and a stripper travel from infatuation, through anguish, and arrive at an uneasy truce with love. (1998)
Left Over Agnes - a novel - The diary of a sixty-five year old Southern Belle looking back at the events and decisions that landed her alone and loveless. (1996)
Dutchy - Excerpt from Quarter Romance, The Mississippi Review, Spring 1992
All Hallows - Excerpt from Quarter Romance, Bomb Magazine, Fall 1991
Maggie and Max - Short story, Bomb Magazine, Spring 1991
Max's Notebook - Short story, Bomb Magazine, Winter 1990
“Sitting Vigil” - BOMB Magazine, Spring 2001
“Weather” - 95 Windows, Dandelion Press, 1998
“Subway”
“Ghost of Christmas Past”
“Reading Keats in Rome” - BOMB Magazine, Fall 1997
“Letter to Nebraska”- BOMB Magazine, Summer 1989
A BIRTHDAY POEM
for Nina
Your absence casts a shadow
across my waking, dimming insight
stuck in my throat, half-born
without your hearing.
There, beside me, where
you reside ever, a shimmering
penumbra, your after image stands,
insistent as a phantom lost limb.
I see more clearly for your shade.
Our time's small victories steel
fears -- stilled to silence -- brazen
flesh into a lasting revenge.
Not here, you have still time's
always sudden solid shape.
3/6/95
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