Kim Peter Kovac – 2 poems




Scattered through Ireland are ‘thin places’,

where the veil between this world and the next

is very thin, and my Myth-hunter’s trained

weather eye can, on certain evenings

at nautical twilight, see to the other side.


The Newgrange Monument, a half-century

older than Stonehenge, is vibrantly thin

and abuzz with stories of The Dagda,

a Druid god, his son eldest son Angus,

and the shapeshifter called Pooka.


Perhaps it’s the latter who runs at me

out of the evening mist, on four legs,

with curved tail all aswirl.  White fur,

mostly, with black blotches around ears

and tail, body shrinking as he nears.


It’s a puppy racing from the Newgrange

mound to the only human visible, and I await

his arrival, punctuated by leaps into the air.

bouncing as if built of spring-metal, finally

leaping higher than possible, into my arms.


As he licks my face I hold his energized head

with my hands and smile, “What’s your name,

boy, what’s your name?”  He holds my gaze

tightly with his deep russet eyes

and speaks out loud: “Fermac of Croboy”.









Captured in a photo

from the Sarajevo Siege,

emerging from the rubble

of a neo-Moorish archway

fronting the National Library –

first a book, next a young girl,


moist blood streaking her face.

In hospital, her fairy tale book

never left her side, so her nurse

christened her Crvenkapica (Little

Red Riding Hood) which always

resulted in giggles of joy.


Two decades later the world

hears her, a singer now called

Garnet Capely with an aching

soprano growl floating above

thrashing, jangly guitars

in an electro-punk swirl.





Kim Peter Kovac works nationally and internationally in theater for young audiences with an emphasis on new play development and networking.  He tells stories on stages as producer of new plays, and tells stories in writing with lineated poems, prose poems, creative non-fiction, flash fiction, haiku, haibun, and microfiction, with work appearing or forthcoming in print and on-line in journals from Australia, India, Dubai (UAE), England, Scotland, Singapore, South Africa, and the USA, including The Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, Red Paint Hill, Elsewhere, Frogpond, Mudlark, and Counterexample Poetics. He is fond of avant-garde jazz, murder mysteries, contemporary poetry, and travel, and lives in Alexandria, VA, with his bride, a Maine Coon cat named Frankie Malone and a Tibetan Terrier named Mick. @kimpeterkovac – www [dot] kimpeterkovac [dot] tumblr [dot] com