David Kowalczyk Poems

'Spain is also a truth, '
the Blessed Virgin Mary once whispered
in my ear while we were riding the F train,
nearing the Fort Hamilton station.
...

Vermillion leaves
tumble slowly
from the wary maple.
...

Seemingly mummified in
the huge bamboo chair
upon his veranda,
...

Because the past five months
of chicken wings, television,
nostalgia, and stale beer
began splitting the seams of my
...

The cold tears of ghosts
fall upon the garbage-strewn
alleys of Ossuary while
gaunt die-casters stumble through
...

This word causes
the stars to cry.
...

My mother is
a trochee.
...

Why this imagined need
to look outside oneself
for direction?
...

by the side of a dumpster,
branches torn, roots shrinking
in the harsh air,
I sense death's mercy
...

Snow sparkles like
sand, magnifying the
winter sun's temerity.
...