Margaret Skalbania lives in Lublin. She graduated from the Academy of Fine Arts in Krakow. She paints, draws and writes. Her book of poetry has been recognized as one of the twenty best printed in Poland in 2013. Magaret translates her poetry herself.
departed poet
without the complex to the west
he took with him was inherited from the other poets lower case's outlook
narrow way of thinking about the historical naivety
divinity of their ancestors
whistling called weather of chronicler
worshiped because gentle breeze rustling through the stalks and leaves
native speech and respect for muttersprache
could describe the delayed train
tomato soup at this time or broth in a polonaise shop
passenger train to paris
drove off when the theater was removed shakespeare
the silly season is not drama king lear
cordelia cope without the grace of love
This
is a poem about my friend, the poet arrested in Poland for Solidarity.
Then emigrated to the United States. After thirty-two years, we started
talking again, he has a grocery store and I work in the theater as an
upholsterer. ~Margaret Skalbania
metahistory
i did not go into the cave lascaux and so were taken by me for tourist was
such is no longer there let in
moist exhalations could expose paintings
to calm the appetites of the curious french propose a copy of the cave
here you can breathe easy
work without artistic value
the more
that omitted the most interesting in the paleolithic show
leave life with soul
This
is a story about longing for humanity. When I worked in a factory pate
in France near Lascaux and I did not have the possibility of going to
the famous cave. Local French told me that it was impossible for
tourist to come. ~Margaret Skalbania
and this bird is whose logo
syracuse ny
polish dinner at home transformed into an impromptu vigil
members of the local polish community
experiencing the shocking news of the plane crash that killed the country's president and other top leaders
it just ruined my day says a woman among many who emigrated
now they all stand under the tapestry with a white eagle
This text under the notes of the municipal newspaper.
~Margaret Skalbania
