Salvatore Buttaci

Salvatore Buttaci is a retired English teacher who has been writing since childhood. His first published work, an essay entitled “Presidential Timber,” appeared in the Sunday New York News when he was sixteen. Since then his poems, letters, short stories, and articles have been widely published in The New York Times, Newsday, U.S.A. Today, The Writer, Cats Magazine, and elsewhere in America and overseas. He has lectured on Sicilian-American pride and conducted poetry workshops and readings.

In 2001, Pudding House Publications included his work in the Greatest Hits Series with his chapbook, Greatest Hits: 1970-2000. He was also the 2007 recipient of the $500.00 Cyber-wit Poetry Award. His book, Flashing My Shorts, a collection of 164 short-short stories, is available at Another of his books, A Family of Sicilians… is available at What I Learned from the Spaniard and Other Poems is one of several collections of Buttaci’s poetry and prose.

He lives in West Virginia with his wife Sharon, but you can visit him online at:
or contact him at


What I Learned from the Spaniard (2011)
by Salvatore Buttaci

(Available at Amazon.)

This refreshingly conversational and engaging chapbook consists of thirty-five wonderfully multi-sensory poems with a genuine Beat feel reminiscent of Gregory Corso and other famous Beat poets. Cover art courtesy of artist Leo Gordon.

(A browse upon Pages 10 and 11):

“The Power of Conversation”

We conversed in green verbs
because other colors fade
or some, like red, burn deep,
compete with sunsets

But green in all its shades,
spring gradations from bright to
darkest hue, few colors
can dare surpass for
lasting speech:

Green verbs take us
both away and back again.
Long-stemmed promises,
Sentiments rooted in
the depths of understanding.

Each time on our return
green verbs hold us to our word;
we realize life changed
and life stayed the same,
and though we swear to fight
and die for love,
we cannot lose what
all along beyond green talk
was ours to keep.

“Once on My Street”

it was a tall sycamore
proud of its roots
ostentatious each spring
in its display
of blossoms
and of leaves

still proud in winter
bare and shivering
in the white wind
the yellow moon
in its clawing branches

and then one June morning
they took the giant saw
to the trunk
of the unsuspecting
brought low its green branches

and left only a stump
coated with concrete
to quiet the bark
of last impressions

Salvatore Buttaci’s many titles are available at Consider showing your support by writing a review of your favorite.)


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