Maja Trochimczyk is a poet, music historian, photographer and non-profit director born in Poland, educated in Canada, and living in California. She is listed by Poets & Writers. Her two books of poetry are illustrated with her photographs (Rose Always -- A Court Love Story and Miriam’s Iris, Moonrise Press, 2008). She published in: The Clockwise Cat, Ekphrasis, Magnapoets, Quill and Parchment (featured poet in Oct 2009), poeticdiversity, San Gabriel Valley Poetry Quarterly, Poetry and Cookies , Phantom Seed, The Sage Trail, and anthologies by Southland Poets of the Fantastic and Poets on Site. Her photographs appeared in The Huston Literary Review (June 2009) and poeticdiversity (artist in residence, August 2009). Her next poetry project is an anthology, Chopin with Cherries: A Tribute in Verse. She also published three books of music studies (After Chopin: Essays in Polish Music, USC, 2000; The Music of Louis Andriessen, Routledge 2002, and Polish Dance in California, Columbia University Press, 2007), as well as hundreds of peer-reviewed and popular articles, essays, entries, CD liner notes, and interviews, on music and culture.
Spring 2010
Table of Contents - Vol. VI, No. 1
Maja Trochimczyk
-- inspired by Ella Fitzgerald’s “Misty” and a Sunday drive to a Buddhist peach orchard © Maja Trochimczyk
the dark honey of Ella’s voice
filled the valley with a golden sheen
The bike stopped at the red light.
The biker looked at me intently.
All in black leather, he did not seem familiar.
the dark honey of Ella’s voice
spilled onto the asphalt
The light changed to green. I was touched
by the brightness in his eyes as he drove by,
turning his head, clearly off-balance. He stopped
to gaze at my metallic Honda. I felt his surprise.
the dark honey of Ella’s voice
blossomed in an aftertaste of sweetness
I knew he realized who I was,
the woman he found irresistible again
and again and again. I wonder if he told
his girlfriend about our sunny encounter.
the dark honey of Ella’s voice
flowed over the wonderland --
the dark honey, oh, the dark honey
The country road led me towards live oak
and grassy slopes, shining yellow and bronze.
There was no hatred, just being alive
after the storm. I was silent. I had nothing to say.
