David Kowalczyk lives and writes in Batavia, New York. He has taught English in Changwon, South Korea, and Quetzaltenango, Guatemala, as well as at several colleges in the United States, including Arizona State. His work has appeared in five anthologies and over fifty magazines, including California Quarterly, Bogg, Maryland Review, and St. Ann's Review. He was founding editor of Gentle ... more »
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David Kowalczyk Poems
As If I Am Your Dream
Here, in the warm white fog, our smiles contain miracles, miracles only an ancient love could ever manifest.
Ars Poetica Haiku
A Time for Roses
Touching them, you sense that beauty within you shall also someday bloom.
Spring. A great yellow stain. Forsythias burst and daffodils explode. Swallows hurry back from Mexico and are bitten by
Beasts in Shades of Gray
As a boy growing up on a poultry farm, every Saturday morning would find me collecting carrion from the roadside:
1. Life Is The Path 2. He Who Hunts Two Rats, Catches None 3. Disregard Reality 4. I Think, Therefore I'm Dead
Ars Poetica Kowalczyk
The invincible moon orbiting your heart.
This word laughs like cool running water. Agog is a delirious munchkin with eyes as big as ostrich eggs,
A Theory Of Snow
Snow falls in a most disturbing way.
Between Earth and Sky
Across tombstones ancient, cobwebbed, and crumbling slips a cold, bilious fog.
Live Wild. Never Die.
Live as if today was conceived in the savage warmth of prayer.
Goddess Of Yodeling Mermaids And Fire-Ea...
Beneath the crescent moon she dances the tarantella with mammoth Martian crabs of Burracho Beach.
Beside the Beautiful
'My work is done. Why wait? ' -George Eastman
Mellow as a mango. The women, ages nine to ninety, always dressed in black. Lavender breezes and waves
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
As If I Am Your Dream
Here, in the warm white fog,
our smiles contain miracles,
miracles only an ancient love
could ever manifest.
My blood turns to wine.
The edges of shadow harden.
Time fills with tears.
Let us surrender
the sky we stole
from the gods.