Some Love


Meditations on love, relationships, and heartache.

June, 2015

SKU: 978-1-56085-243-8 Category: Tag: Author: Alex CaldieroProduct ID: 1491


Indifference rests quietly alone in the universe while love, hate, and hurt rage tightly together elsewhere across safely defined demarcations. Some Love secretly yearns for rest but plunges deeply into the scramble of human emotions:

One Day a hurt hits
with a fact and a sorrow.
It makes me want to
write. It makes me want
to go away, to cry
in the arms of a lover,
past words said and actions
you cant take back not even in
a next life—on that day you
choose the one who comes to you.

From his childhood in Sicily as a Catholic altar boy through his latter days as a Mormon “saint,” Caldiero recalls in verse his emerging passion for performance and for the sensual liturgical marriage of physical space—the church or temple proper—with bodily space. This ritualized confluence of architectural structure, human bodies, images, movements, smells, and sounds affects him as much today as it did in the past. It is this memory of the religious ritual that keeps him striving for a poetic creation and richness that achieves a depth of symbolic meaning.

Alex Caldiero is Poet in Residence at Utah Valley University in Orem. One of his students described him as “a weird cat, but someone who loves what he teaches.” He has received grants from the National Endowment for the Arts and Utah Performing Arts Tour and awards from the Association for Mormon Letters and Salt Lake City mayor’s office.

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4 reviews for Some Love

  1. Natasha Sajé

    “How careful / should I be / with emotions that would unscramble / every letter in my alphabet?” asks Alex Caldiero in his new book
    of diary meditations on love. It has taken him “25 years to speak” and “25 years to know what to say.” His wit and word play make the wait worthwhile.

  2. Joseph Plicka

    Caldiero’s poetic bloodline is thick with Beats and Modernists and Dadaists and other ists and isms abounding—but forget all that. Read it aloud and you too can feel like a “sonosopher,” awash in words and music, drenched in holy eros. Some Love is a marvelous compendium of aphorisms, koans, encomiums, one-liners, slams, rants, tales, odes, burlesques, lyrics, and meditations.

  3. Scott Abbott, Open Letters Monthly

    Alex Caldiero’s new book of poetry is an edifying, eviscerating, and playful exploration of love. Some Love is a modest title, as is the dedication to Caldiero’s wife of forty years—“for Setenay, some love.” While that may raise some questions at home (why not “all my love”?), the title signals possibility and humility. And who should not be humble in the uncertain face of love?

    confessing my love is not unlike asking

    forgiveness for a crime I didnt commit.

    Because I was so sure

    of the meaning of the word,

    I didnt look it up,

    but maybe I should have

    because the one I heard

    was not the one she spoke.

    The poet often confesses love while questioning his ability to do so, as in the book’s first poem:

    Your hair

    is a labyrinth

    I can never hope

    to get out of . . .
    This is the beginning of a

    love poem.
    I’ll just leave it at that.

    Fortunately, the poet doesn’t just leave it at that. Epigraphs preceding parts of the book suggest that these poems will explore a wide range of love. Love can be inhibited: “It’s because an action has not been completed that it is vile,” Jean Genet. Love can be thwarted by misunderstanding: “If you think we’re together, you’re a poor judge of distance,” Mae West in Belle of the Nineties. Love is complicated by gender differences: “Women are strangers in the country of man,” Laura Riding Jackson. Some lovers are more skillful than others: “You’re easy to dance with,” Fred Astaire in Holiday Inn.

    The poet’s lover is often easy to dance with:

    Her mouth on

    my mouth—
    in old age
    I’ll smile and

    not know why.

    The lovers are lively dancers:

    When my tongue

    meets your tongue

    it wants to play tag,

    it wants to play hide-and-seek.
    Then fatigued,

    it would lie down

    in its own moist bed

    alone to dream in flavors.

    But who is this dancing poet from the country of men who fears he might be a poor judge of distance? Caldiero addresses the question in a poem called “Islander” (from his book Sonosuono):


    on the island

    of Sicily

    on the island

    of Manhattan
    Growing old

    on the island

    of Utah
    All my life


    by water

  4. The Goalie’s Anxiety

    It’s a prickly book, this new exploration of love and language by Alex Caldiero. The dedication to Alex’s wife—”for Setenay, some love”—ought to raise some questions at home, questions that find many satisfying answers in the edifying and eviscerating and life affirming and despairing and enlightening and surprising and playful poems.

    Jason Francis designed the beautiful book, small enough to fit nicely in a reader’s hand and fat enough to include lots of poetry. Red and blue are the dominant colors of print (oxygenated and non-oxygenated blood) and creamy white paper alternates at intervals with blue and red pages. IMG_6654

    Like all true love stories, this is a tragedy. Like all true love stories, this is a comedy. Like all true love stories, this is a book about language. Like all true love stories, this is an exploration of sex. Like all true love stories, this is a love story.

    The epigraphs for Parts One and Four lay out two of the many possibilities: “Your eyes are beautiful—they match.” Bob Hope in Road to Utopia . . . and “If you think we’re together, you’re a poor judge of distance.” Mae West in Belle of the Nineties

    A couple of poems as examples of the wit (in both senses: humor and wisdom) of the book: you are so much on my mind/you have thoughts of your own there and Her mouth on/my mouth— in old age I’ll smile and/not know why

    Love is complex and frustrating: Because I was so sure/of the meaning of the word,/I didnt look it up,/but maybe I should have/because the one I heard/was not the one she spoke.


    at cards/or love,/I lose at/both so/I stay home/for dinner

    Love is satisfying and promising:

    In Tongues

    When my tongue/meets your tongue/it wants to play tag,/it wants to play hide-and-seek. Then fatigued,/it would lie down/in its own most bed/alone to dream in flavors.

    Love is heartbreaking. Table for Two with One Chair, for instance, ends with a request: It’d be helpful/if you would return/my heart to my body.

    Love moves at the speed of love in Italian as well as in English. Lovers keep telling and retelling their stories . . . della velocita of love.

    Love opens up new worlds: How careful/should I be/with emotions that would unscramble/every letter in my alphabet?/Perhaps then I could learn another language.

    This book unscrambles every letter in my alphabet, and for that I’m grateful.

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