Chris Kujawa

CONTACT:
Email
Website: sevenballpub.ccom (currently under construction/unavailable)

BIO:
Chris Kujawa is an Oshkosh-based poet, author, songwriter, and publisher who graduated with a BA in English from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee in 2017. He has a wide range of influences, including Syd Barrett, William Blake, Jennifer Espinoza, Bern Porter, and Philip K. Dick. He currently has two poetry collections: Songs Sharp & Soft (2017) and The Breadth of Colour (2026).         

Poetry

Museum Organisms 

I exist as tides
I reach out and retreat
I doubt the reality of stillness

A steerless raft
Swords buried in sands
Merchants preserved in marsh
Relics and fossils live inside our motion
We go thru the same patterns
Move forward like a wheel
The horizon never gets closer

You’re my air conditioning
You’re my root beer float
You’re an ocean, too
You are also filled with skeletons
And old coins with proud heads
And walls showing gods who teach the patterns

The gods are prone to upheaval, too
And our pious hearts are restless
We are sensations, we are addicts
But most of all we’re built to be atmospheres
And we are made for love

Flammable love
Brushfire passions
Soothing mint love
Cool breeze delicate care

All these pathways
All these desires
Fantasies and films lit on the wall
All the pixie dust and magic kisses
All the conquests and subjugation
All the chariot wheels crashing bones
And chains on necks
And revolts and revolutions
And compromise and reparations

All wind and sun and ocean tides
Just moving parts, just heavenly bodies
Going in circles
Wheeling forward
Searching for a place in time
That’s all love, all party, all pillows and breeze 

The Self as the Sparkles of Sparkling Grape Juice Desperately Trying Not to Go Flat

The moon, in every cycle, attempts to inspire you
To make you stop and listen
To make you slip reflectively into yourself
Contact your buried enthusiasm
Drowned by expectations and the gaslights of the smooth
Who with little more than whims convinced you
To abandon all your more precise intuitions
That is the way you arrived here with trembling sunken eyes
It is how we failed to realize that within us
There are foreign bodies coming together
But we know that the sky around you is the sky around me
And it occurs to me that there are chisels manically striking inside you
Which is true of everyone
Which is never settled until collapsed dissipation
Like everything that’s evolved
Including the squiggly arc of civilizations
Like the fizzy nature of my-self