November 1, 2014


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


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

Total Pageviews