December 15, 2009 Statement by Fabio Felix 
UGO Ugo person hits the thinness that is reflected in his poetry dry.
so thin that it can hang on his cigarette from which aspires / inhales inspiration, so light and unobtrusive, reluctant to leave the track bed to rest.
a body too frail to his heart beats fast, like a nightingale, like Leopardi, like Edith Piaf. Ugo Di
Poet affects the weight of the thoughts that do not understand how come not to undermine her person.
affects the weight of words: words with double entry e molteplici uscite, ricche di remoti passaggi segreti, di trabocchetti linguistici, iterazioni, ossimori, ossessioni.
Urla, ma con discezione, solo negli epigrammi, nelle invettive contro il Capitale. Ma, pure, si contenta del verso dell’assiuolo, il chiù.
Avevo scritto alcuni versi per lui, ma non vorrei che suonassero come “la scrittura idiota messa lì da qualcuno non si sa perché”. Preferisco leggere versi suoi sulla Poesia, “istrice che lancia aculei”, e sull’Amore.
Da Frammenti di un poema finale:
Poetica
Corrispondenze
Poetica II
Visita II
Salenitana III
Da Ustioni
Per Rosanna III, VII, IX
Colors
News From Mute false
Intervention Eligio 
"Sublime spirit, you gave me, you gave me all that I will
prayed. Not in vain your own face in the fire
me you face.
You have given me the wonderful nature to reign,
strength to hear it to enjoy it.
not only the cold of a surprise visit, I grant,
allow me to peer into its deep chest
as in the breast of a friend "(Goethe, Faust).
Its never been a reassuring to know.
His was a constant watch at the same time a distancing itself from any intellectual seduction, seductive song each.
Inside his voice was heard damnation and redemption.
He gave the poem to those who have never sought.
given to all, different for each of its perennial question, addressed to our questions.
Recently, his writing had become more urgent, as subjected to a pressing need. When the urgent press squeezes the aesthetics. It was not a nihilist, but the meaning of the language of his writing translates the annihilation of the human being estranged from the desert of the real. So, Ugo Lanzalone, hell comes to exploring the aesthetics of existence and denied that the height of immediacy of feeling that is transposed and digest easily, all that betrays the power of the mind. "My poetry is infected, but may give the vaccine to protect against simplistic thoughts comfortable," says Hughes. His death is so difficult to digest, it is even harder to having to endure, not only for humans but for what it was that we left inside. I will miss his LOGOS tearing. The screaming never given its perennial inconvenient truth.
His thinking - essential requirements between philosophy and poetry - as if to embody living on the edge of knowledge at times, of his knowledge, his view being intellectual, critical and community, "even if the matter of his say it was a song. " Anyway, never just a song. An open world of poetry, where everything can be possible, it should be possible, such as changing the boundaries, and his contribution was such that the lines end up no more. Indulge Genio, said her most intimate and personal God and He has answered a Genius with its requirement that has become ours. This leaves us to our dear Ugo. And Joseph Spinillo, who had cooperated with him, was a witness of your consent and grant to the open world of poetry as condescending and granted him open to a broader sense of the possibilities: hence the need to Joseph and also coincides with what His was the requirement. Ugo
mixed with rare humility - with impeccable rigor of separate "his" poetry - poetry with the audience and the author. Within the viewer content of poetry did dwell misunderstood, that the viewer has made its own, thanks to his having been author-poet-spectator. Hugh was one of those who did climb over the brick walls that poetry often puts the viewer. Someone has discovered the self-disclosure, revealing that their vertigo had previously been silent. I'm not sure I look at those "sails to lands not yet discovered," says Nietzsche, and the poetry of Hugh is right to those lands that ambition and lands, from my point of view.
light of Hugh tries to get and succeeds, is the contemporary poet that holds our gaze into the eyes of our century, never becoming blind, seeing lights, shadows and darkness. "Contemporary is the one who receives the beam across the face of darkness that comes from his time," says G. Agamben. And Hugh, contemporary poet, this bundle of darkness to receive, and moves with him to submit his poetry. As we shall also, in the final fragments of a poem, the text of his poetry and his poetic warning, hoelderliniana, knowing that the fatality of death, always lurking, imposes the impression that it would soon do not save.
I wanted to find other words and is not likely transfiguration expressed in these few lines, to be able to say of his LOGOS-style and effectiveness of his poetry, which I have always loved and appreciated because it is extremely brief. I find in the Poetics, epigram of his will power, which dis-fold what his poetry is, what inspires, what you leave inside. Poetics is the first text of the final fragments of a poem, I read that now.
Poetics
My poetry is not suitable for recreation,
so maybe the party, does not rest, it's hard
porcupine quills that launches, you
arches in the attack and it hurts.
but then suddenly turns
can refresh the panting
female traveler who passes through it.
My poetry is infected, but
can give the vaccine to protect against simplistic
comfortable thoughts.
Can you even play.
The wound remains.
Wolf poster of inn hermann 
Thank you all for being there for reading
for listening
there will be other times and this blog will serve to keep us updated
to find tips and ideas for
hypothesis Thanks Ugo future
of everything
Joseph Spinillo
L’Associazione Culturale “Ingresso Gratuito”
ed il Sito internet di scrittura www.descrivendo.com
presentano
“Ad Ugo Lanzalone” Contro ogni pensiero unico
http://contrognipensierounico.blogspot.com/
Sabato 16 Maggio 2009
alle ore 20,00 in Via Castelforte, 4 - Roma
La serata sarà interamente dedicata al poeta, amico e compagno Ugo Lanzalone ed alle sue poesie.
Si leggeranno suoi componimenti, poesie direttamente ispirate dalla sua poetica od a lui dedicate, e vi saranno proiezioni video.
Si potrà cenare assieme con un piatto di pasta ed un buon glass of wine from 20.00.
contributions to the evening of Alicia Castagna, Anthony Padula, Dominic Sacco, Frank Farina, Eligio Lupo, Fabio Felix, Diego Ionta, Biagio Propane, Lanzalone Bruno, Silvana Matozza, Guido Bonacci, Simona Verrusio, Mario Pelosi, Desi and Patricia Calogero, Mara Guidi, Giuseppe Spinillo, and others.
Daniela 
decide the order. Let us
words, the hand that writes the rough
naive, cunning Congress Party.
Silence.
You said you wanted to know, you were lost
smiles, too bright,
I was telling you about.
I still had to tell you, tell you, maybe you too, we would
encountered, yet, perhaps, one day
outside these walls Party and poetry,
I would have offered a coffee, beer, I
the usual tea,
friendship stronger, I liked your
intelligent questions and true .
I do not know whether it is sadness that goes into these verses
human or other thing that remains for you and we do not go
- as always
talks to himself who speaks to the dead-alive you did not like this adaptation
why we met in these rooms, you work exhausted, fatigue
large, poorly paid, the uncertain future,
and going from city to city
return until the evening, you return to your
find rooms empty of smiles and caresses, words.
guess Sundays emptied
I know. More, perhaps even stronger
you confused that I learned in a phone in a July
that you undid, everything.
But you have not saved
and you did not lost because there is no salvation nor damnation
only the strange feel of humans. We
contiunuiamo
to live here, you pass
the time that remains, as always, via Castelforte, Joseph is saying
of Chiapas where it went in and out, you know its coming and going,
of sloths, poetry, you know Joseph is
and Umberto, Michelangelo, Pasquale, Franco, Eligio, Fabio, others,
we are still short, we exist,
resist, we hesitate.
But I will not say who live in the memory forever in us, you're never dead. Six dead
instead
and
and we do not live a day. There precedesti only.
It was not cowardice, courage, false words of human stupefied, and was another huge
strength of body that governs animal
classes, peoples, Chiapas, Tzeltal,
and commanders, and Subcomandante me, you, the sloth and poetry.
you were not you, not you You decided it was false to the end-to-onset
other force pulls
to do to say to think. And
sì, è tristezza che spinge in questi versi
che ti piacevano
e come sempre dicono di un'assenza.
Dammi però l'inizio
tu che decidesti la fine
per quando anche io non sarò stato. Adesso
voglio pensarti indocile
fibra dell'universo
come me vanamente ribelle
chè la rebeldia non è che disadattamento per altro adattamento, non si sa se migliore
e per quanto.
E' l'ora del saluto.
Non posso dirti addio, arrivederci,
non posso dirti niente.
Non sei mai stata.
(Ugo Lanzalone)
