Steve Kowit | The Sun Magazine #1

Steve Kowit

Steve Kowit was the author of In the Palm of Your Hand: The Poet’s Portable Workshop and seven poetry collections. A critically acclaimed poet, he died in April 2015 at the age of seventy-six. His most recent posthumous collection is Poems That Speak to Us.

— From September 2021
The Dog-Eared Page

Refugees, Late Summer Night

Out there, in the dark, they could have been / anyone: refugees from Rwanda, slaves pushing north. / Palestinians, Romani, Armenians, Jews. . . . / The lights of Tijuana, that yellow haze to the west, /could have been Melos, Cracow, Quang Ngai. . . .

September 2021
Tribute

The Whole Inexplicable Business

A Tribute To Steve Kowit

Steve Kowit was a gifted poet and a compassionate human being. He was enthusiastic and outspoken, both on and off the page. . . . Kowit once said that he wanted to “move the reader with memorable tales that celebrate the whole inexplicable business — this strange, unspeakably marvelous life,” and that is exactly what he did.

July 2015
Poetry

Abuelita

At the Paso Picacho Campground just after dusk, I walk past a big Mexican / family picnic: everyone chatting & laughing around a long plank table littered / with paper plates & plastic cups & half-empty bottles of Fanta.

March 2015
Poetry

Progeria

Those kids who age prematurely: / at seven already sclerotic & gray. / & I too!

July 2014
Poetry

Selected Poems

from “I Stand in the Doorway” | Sometimes when you say goodbye you know it’s goodbye for keeps. / You touch your lips to her cheek, or you squeeze his hand & walk off. / What else can you do?

October 2013
Poetry

A Neighbor

When he noticed four teenage kids from the Mission School / lugging boxes out of her house, he phoned her / — his neighbor just up the road — & she told him / that escrow had closed a week early: she’d be gone / by late afternoon.

May 2013
Poetry

Five Skunks

Graduation was awful. When I handed Jholie her diploma, / that idiotic, oversized black mortarboard slid down my forehead / & covered my eyes & out in the stands everyone started to laugh

March 2013
Poetry

Some Marionettes

One afternoon years back, in a distant city, I found myself staring / into the window display of a toy store that some ingenious window / designer & puppet maker had fashioned of cardboard and papier-mâché / & painted to look like the very street I was on

February 2013
Poetry

Leah’s Daughter

The workshop was just about to get started when somebody noticed / that Leah looked glum & distracted & asked what was wrong, / & Leah told us her daughter had called from Iraq that morning, / hysterical, screaming & weeping.

January 2013
Poetry

Raymond

Jesus comes back like he said he would: a stand-up kind of guy, / reticent to a fault but rock solid. The shy type everyone likes / but no one thinks much about one way or the other, / until one evening

July 2012
Poetry

The Visit

It was late, & Mary, I thought, was already asleep when I figured to / make another stab at cleaning that insufferably cluttered desk / where I write my poems before turning in for the night.

May 2012
Poetry

Selected Poems

from “A Prayer” | If it weren’t for Mary, who knows all too well my oblivious nature, / I’d never have noticed those tiny, crepuscular creatures / floating around in the dogs’ water bowls.

March 2011
What Do You Think? Has something we published moved you? Fired you up? Did we miss the mark? We'd love to hear about it. Send Us A Letter