Biography of David Kowalczyk
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 Strength Quarterly. He has published three chapbooks.
David Kowalczyk's Works:
A Gentle Metamorphosis (Small Poetry Press,1993)
Stealing the Sky (Small Poetry Press,1999)
Invisible Vienna (West Town Press,2005)
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
This word laughs like cool running water. Agog is a delirious munchkin with eyes as big as ostrich eggs,
Ars Poetica Kowalczyk
The invincible moon orbiting your heart.
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.
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
Live Wild. Never Die.
Live as if today was conceived in the savage warmth of prayer.
Mellow as a mango. The women, ages nine to ninety, always dressed in black. Lavender breezes and waves
Wolf Moon Dreams
Countless years of
lard and shadows wrestle
to shed the lies that blind.
Ogres bursting with
unspeakable sins, fiends
pulsing with audacious crimes.
Quasimodo's children are praying
in the shyest of whispers.
Not for forgiveness,